My Father Tossed a Blue Savings Passbook into the Mud at Cedar Ridge

I stared at the faded red circle stamped on the back page.

“Why didn’t my mother’s insurance policy just name me in the first place?” I asked.

“Was it a standard policy?”

Arthur took his glasses off again.

He didn’t polish them this time.

He just held them in his hand.

“It was a wrongful death settlement,” Arthur said.

“Wrongful death,” I repeated.