One indelible memory of my buddy Dave, and then we move on.
Waaaay back in the day, a bunch of archaeologists would hit the bar by the office on Friday afternoons for a beer or three over an hour of bullshitting. My son was tiny then, and liked coming along because the bar had a nice walled patio with a koi pond and room to roam, and on one particular Friday--he was three years old--he hopped up into Dave's lap for a while while we drank and yapped.
The next morning, he climbed into his seat at the breakfast table.
Boltgirl: Oatmeal? Cheerios? What sounds good?
Boy: All I need for breakfast is a cup of coffee and a cigarette.
Boy: Well, that's what Dave says.
Boltgirl: Um, whatever Dave says, you just do the opposite of that, okay?
The man was the embodiment of if you can't be a good role model, be a dire warning. And now we move on.