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meet this lady. I mean, you weren’t exactly close to Dutch.” So true. At best, Eliza had a detached relationship with her now departed father. They spoke, they saw each other every few years, sometimes even less frequently than that. But they never connected. She never thought of him as Dad, not since he walked out of her life more than four decades ago. After that, he was just Dutch, the old Air Force call sign that she guessed was a nod to his family ancestry, or just easier to say and spell than Aloysius. Whatever name he used, he was always too busy flying somewhere to be a father to her.
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