December 8, 1980
When I was six or seven, my stepdad came into my life, and I remember thinking he knew everything. He could befriend anybody, anywhere. In grocery stores, he chatted with strangers over cuts of meat; at gas stations, he bonded with people pumping fuel over how the smell of gasoline was disgusting and yet enjoyable. In restaurants, he took an interest in waitersβ livesβlike Steve, whose father was dying of cancer. When Steveβs dad died, my new dad attended the funeral.
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