A Humble Request
Hello again party!
While we’re in this somewhat brief interlude I find that it’s time to come to you to ask a favor. I’d like you to share this Substack with your friends.
This whole thing started as a way to spread my grief around with a bunch of people, which it certainly still is. But it’s become something of a cathartic exercise for me as well. I’ve written about how I’ve been able to see a new side of my dad while going through his collection and I’ve had frequent conversations with his memory during those times.
Though I’ve tried to keep things on here pretty chipper it’s honestly been an immensely difficult time for me personally.
Some things I’ve learned along the way which I think are pretty universal and might piqué someone’s interest in the Quest, which I’ll put forward to you.
This is a story about a child trying to know their parent better.
I never knew as much about this side of my dad while he was alive. Especially in his later years when things soured between us. I find now that Dad had an immense talent for identifying and purchasing items of value. As we all move forward and I tell you about what gets sold and for how much you’ll understand what I’m saying. But as an example, one of the comic books dad bought is estimated to bring in a 158,874% return on investment. Which is just bonkers numbers, and if there was an investment banker who could hit that kind of number regularly we’d all know their name. Dad had several of those types of assets, which I think is a profound skill, one I wish he could’ve harnessed while he was alive.
It’s also a story about your legacy.
See, while he was alive, Dad was tough to be around. At the end none of the family was talking to him because he’d made communication impossible by belittling or cursing us. He was obstinate and also lazy. He stole from his parents while also heaping his ire on them. He was extremely poor, but as we’ve seen also wealthy.
He’ll also be a blessing to my children and hopefully generations to come. He’s already bought my daughter her first bike, paid to landscape my yard, and will help keep hundreds of children safe by helping to pay for a new daycare fence.
His story also reminds me that I’m not here long.
He died suddenly at the age of 59, which means I may only have another 24 years. Or more, or also less, but keeping that fact front of mind is helpful in framing my actions today. It’s also confirmation for me to keep writing, because I love doing it, but also so that one day my children will find these and think of me fondly and know who I was when they were still very little.
So friends, please share the Inheriquest around. It’s dangerous to go alone.