My favorite relative was an uncle. He was the heart-stoppingly handsome bad boy of the family and I thought he was truly IT. He traveled all over the world and came home with exotic photos and experiences. He ran a jazz club in Paris. Oh my gosh, he ran a jazz club in Paris. How could this not impress a young niece?
Eventually he settled down a bit and lived in California for a long time. Once when we went out to visit he let my unlicensed teenager drive his sports car around the block. Cool, right? He . . .
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