Damn Fine Sentence #13
“It’s like he grew out, and everybody else grew up …”
— — — Kiese Laymon
— — — Long Division
When I was a kid, Dad had a bunch of old friends, testosterone-flooded men he’d grown up with. Some were also cousins, in spirit or in fact. They came to our house on weekends to play cards and swap lies about the old days. There were loud accusations about the most recent squirrel-hunting debacle, arguments about whose wife had the skinniest legs.
Somewhere along the line, Dad got involved with community theater. He still joked about skinny legs, but he and his new friends also talked about plays and books. He stopped squirrel hunting. He started writing a novel.
The old friends didn’t come around anymore.