A father in Albuquerque has, since his daughter was five years old, been secretly reading every book she reads — approximately 1,400 books over nineteen years. She discovered the practice in June. She has, in the two months since, been trying to understand what it means. Her father has been trying to explain.
A retired accountant in Sacramento spent his career being the specific practical thing his father had raised him to be. At 68, three years after retirement, he began quietly training for the specific thing his father had once, briefly, wanted him to be at 18. At 71, he succeeded. His father has been dead for forty years.
A 67-year-old man in suburban Minneapolis began, in the spring of 2025, dressing exactly as he had in 1987 — same haircut, same sweaters, same Polaroid camera. His daughter does not know if this is grief, art, or rebellion. He has gotten compliments at Target.