The Loser's parents did well, too, mostly thanks to his mother, who took an interest in investing and showed great aptitude for it, even if that aptitude came in the form of knowing who to listen to. By the late 1970s, the Loser's parents had money, and by the 1980s they felt confident enough to spend it. No, that's not true. The Loser's mother felt confident enough to spend it. The Loser's father, a Great Depression era kid, lived in constant fear of ending up in the poor house no matter how much he had.
Nonetheless, he allowed his wife to bend him to her will, even when that will said "We're going to St. Barts."
They stayed over a month every year once they were elderly, stopping only a few years before their back-to-back deaths in fall of 2011. (They stopped because getting around on cobblestone streets and climbing stairs with no railings became too difficult for them.)
They often encouraged the Loser to take some vacation time and visit them there. He never did.
The Loser has spent some hours of the first day of this new year going through boxes of snapshots which have been sitting in his parent's second floor storage room for over a decade (the Loser now lives in their house and will until ...?).
Most of the pictures are awful. Friends smiling at the lens, meals, people sunbathing and reading. Uninteresting landscapes.
The photo below is from winter of 1985. The Loser has no idea who the people in it are or who took the photo, though he guesses it was his father, who was more of a shutterbug than his mother.
|A topless girl on a warm beach.|