Family Resemblance
Yesterday we went to Costco and stopped for lunch at the food court. The lady behind the counter, whom I recognized as a long-time Costco employee but that was the extent of our acquaintance, casually reported, “Oh, you just missed your dad by about an hour. He was in here buying a computer this morning.”
Stuff like this happens at least a couple times a year, and that is why I’m no longer caught so off guard that I cannot reply in any intelligent way. This time I inquired, “So do you know my dad or do we just look that much alike?”
“Oh,” she responded, he’s been my insurance agent for a long time. He’s great.”
And in saying this she pays me a compliment that she didn’t realize. This means that she recognized me from the pictures in Dad’s office: one of me at fifteen, at seventeen, and my wedding picture at nineteen. How comforting.
I didn’t inquire further in case these lovely thoughts might be dashed with the comment, “I recognized your boys from the pictures in his office.”
