My father in law was an intimidating man. He was unreasonably tall, an Episcopal priest, and my wife adored him, so maybe it’s not weird that I needed some way to humanize him, a bit. Maybe that’s why I called him Father Dad.
For the record, he was not a fan. There may have been a glare and a raised shaggy eyebrow, and I may have pretended I didn’t see it; I don’t remember. I do remember, however, that the very first time we met, we talked about the philosopher Wittgenstein.
Now, if that does not sound like absolutely gripping dinnertime conversation to you, you can rest assured that the rest of the table agreed with you. Father Dad and I, however, were thrilled. Continue reading “Why My Dog Is Not a Humanist: God Talk and Kurt Vonnegut”