Our daughter, Ella, turns a number today. I won't say how many—but she's not long a twenty-something. HB2U, dear Ella—in true Millennial spirit:)
Ella was born in County Durham, UK, but grew up, studied, and went to university in Australia. It was a Sunday; she was late, as always. Not true. The Guinness didn’t work this time. Durham were playing Warwickshire in a one-dayer; I called in sick, we lost, but my replacement had a good day. I had to wait a couple of weeks to get back in—her Mum said it would give me good time with my daughter—I had to agree.
Both children turned out just fine; her brother lives and works in Boston. Ella has a practice on the Gold Coast. And I’m here; a lopsided triangulation.
I want to ask her my Dad puzzle. "How many decades have you lived?" She knows the trick—it's in how quickly you ask the question. You want them to hear the decades bit. As a twenty-something, most will say two, some three, hardly any will say four. Which can also be true. And is in Ella's case.
Ask yourself the decades question. You might be surprised.
Onya Frankie,
Dad
xoxo
Thanks for nothing Nick. It’s 8 and it’s scary