On a day when my father's third-year memorial service finally settled down, a flashy gal appeared who claimed to have been his student. My father had been a high school teacher at the time. The gal said she wanted to offer incense and was invited into the house to share memories of my father. The stories she told revealed aspects of my father that I, as a youth, could never have known. She said she wanted to repay the favor to me at that time, but…
