Aaron and I, along with our friend Jessica, were walking down to the Santa Monica pier one afternoon long, long ago. Or maybe it was in April. Regardless, I spotted this fellow on a gnarly, sprawling tree trunk in the park and immediately recognized him as my dad. Then of course, almost as immediately, realized it wasn’t.
Despite being over two thousand miles from home, there are other flags that should have alerted me that this was indeed a stranger. For example, I wouldn’t describe ol’ Gar Bob as an avid reader. Sure, he reads, but its not like books are his go to choice for entertainment. And recliners are more his speed when it comes to kicking back.
Maybe I should be alarmed that I could be duped into thinking that, even for just a second, that guy was my dad. But, there is just something about associating this man – so clearly relaxed, reading, on a tree – with my dad, that makes me happy.