My kid brother is a guy's guy type guy, at least on the surface. He was a football center in high school and college; he was in the Air Force, he has a couple of tattoos (of which my mother still asks, are you sure they won't wash off), he's balding and it troubles him not a whit as he merrily shaves it all off. That is the exterior Boo. (Boo is short for boo-boo, for what else can you call the kid who is so much the baby in the family??)
As often happens, Boo has no sons. He has three daughters. His daughters dance at the same dance school their mother attended as a child. Boo and his wife are very involved parents at the studio, helping with repairs and recitals. The last two years, Boo has been drawn into the actual recital, adding some comic relief, and this year doing the lifts (with his middle daughter, which is a REAL trust-building issue.)
Because Boo is such a guy, a couple of the other fathers broke down and joined the company. Boo was especially close to Larry. Together they were going to be Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Doo in last week's recital.
Boo got a call from Larry's wife the Sunday before the recital. Larry had been involved in an automobile accident. He was gone.
Big men don't cry? Nope. Big men cry, and then they carry on. Larry's daughter had a large part in the recital, and felt that the show should go on. So the remaining Tweedle donned Larry's shirt, donned these cute shoes (okay, how many of you thought those were MY legs?) and did his part.