Sometime in grade 3 when I was in Hebrew school, Mrs. Ben-Ron told us the story about King David and how his son was dying and he prayed to God to save him. She made it sound like he was in turmoil and pleading with God constantly to save his son but after he died King David stopped being miserable. She asked us why he stopped being upset? I liked the question, it was like a conundrum and there’s always an answer. Everyone made guesses until we gave up. Eventually Mrs. Ben-Ron answered that he stopped freaking out because it no longer mattered, the child was dead, no point praying further. That logic impressed me. A couple months later my father and his brother-in-law, uncle Ray, came to take me out of school one afternoon because my grandfather died. It was very confusing. Why were these guys here? They never ever came before. Very very weird. As we drove off I stood in the back of the car. That’s how it was then, no rules about seatbelts for nine year olds. The two middle aged men told me my grandfather died, I could see the struggle in their faces about how to tell a kid. They were worried but I reassured them sharing the story of David praying to God and moving on after his son was dead. I can still see their expression which meant either i) Bobby’s a weird kid, ii) this was a cool reaction from a kid. They’re both gone, I’ll not know what they thought but I like everything about that memory including what was playing on the radio while we were headed home, Fire and Rain by James Taylor.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"