One afternoon shortly before my seventh-grade school year, I was helping my Dad with a dump run. We were by ourselves, a good time to talk.
He was trying to explain some of the ‘other’ facts of life to me as we rumbled south on Highway 101 and over the Klamath River.
“Question everything,” I recall him instructing me.
“Why?” I asked.
“Don’t be a smart-ass,” he returned.
Yeah, even then. And now you know why I am the way that I am.