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Dad laughed."After the food this weekend, I don't dare be hungry for a long time. No. It was something my best friend Darnell used to say to me. Once we were walking along a railroad track—we must have been twelve or thirteen years old—and we heard a train coming. It was a pretty narrow passage that we shouldn't have been fussing around on. We knew we'd have to either jump into the ditch on one side or the blackberries on the other. He looked at me and said, 'What's in your kit?' I said I could swim so we both jumped off into the ugliest, awfulest ditch water you can imagine. The train went by—a long one, so we had to wait down in that water what seemed like forever. Then we crawled back up on the tracks and dragged ourselves back home. Darnell said, 'Maybe we should put Band-Aids in our kit and jump in the berries next time!'" I laughed at Dad's little story. I guessed he was trying to lighten the mood."Who was Darnell? Did I ever meet him?" I asked."No. He was Jim Swift's little. It is a very personal story, not to be released before my death, but one that is very important to me. Even if no one else ever gets to read it, I wanted it to be written.Before we get to that story, let me introduce the cast of characters, my family.We’ll start with my dad. His name was Michael Bloom, and he was 55 when he died down on Mariachi-2. Long before I was born, he grew up on Hestia-3, went to college, got his MBA, got married, and started working in corporate finance. They had a couple of kids, but I guess things just gradually started to fall apart. My dad took a new job with a biotech company on Podarok-2 where he met my mother, the final nail in the coffin for his marriage. He and my mom got married soon after the divorce, I was born a year later, and my sister was born a year after that. He was a good dad, and seemed to be a good husband, although he poured so much energy into his work that we all kind of had to make the most of the time he had free. And he.
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