When I was 10 my family went camping for the weekend at Garner national park in Texas. We’d spent the day by the river, and when we returned to the campsite our newly arrived neighbour was sitting topless covered in tanning oil, burning in the sun. “Look at this bozo,” Dad said, filling a bucket of water. “Dave,” Mum said, but Dad was already walking towards the stranger. He looked, suddenly, not like the man we knew who worked with computers and served in the military, but like a child.
In another world, I’m sure there would have been a fight. The man leapt – angry, soaked, furious – from his chair. Dad just looked him in the eye, grinned imperceptibly and said, “Thought you needed cooling off.”
