[The saga of sorts continues, part i, part ii, part iii. Follow along in order but not necessarily.]
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With our drinks ordered, Dad fell into a quick funk which was not at all a usual state for him. Dad did not possess an into a funk kind of personality. If he did, he kept it from us all these years. Beverli Lee, the object of dad’s unsubtle ridicule, took it more than in stride. She buoyed up into chipper mode, relentlessly carrying the conversation, talking about anything other than Teslas. Continue reading