My pop grew up a Depression kid, a hard man in a hard time. After the Navy let him out at the end of WW2, and he had worked his way through to an engineering degree hauling wood and waiting tables, he was seldom in the mood to cut me - or anyone else, for that matter - any slack.
He’d eye my unruly pals and remind me that if I let trouble hang around with me long enough, sooner or later it would get me in trouble.
The Thorns should have listened to my pop.