I was 7 years old, pulling back my bow in the yard, an arrow knocked into the string and about to let loose into the target my father had built for me. I made a decent shot and looked up to see my neighbor standing in his yard and looking down. Robert Awad had a wide honest smile, and the sun glowed down onto his bright white hair.
“Nice form!” he said.
With these simple words of affirmation began one of the closest relationships I have ever had with another human being.
It was strange, a 52-year-old man spending time alone with a 7-year-old boy who wasn't part of his family and had met in such a random way. I was curious when my father would walk into Bob's house unannounced and silent in the first year, and Bob's casual reaction to the procedure.