The makeshift calendar dangled awkwardly from an aging, bowing fence with June 29, 2014, circled again and again in a “don’t forget this” sort of way.
The reminder hung near a lone fig tree at the back of 20,000 square feet or so of undeveloped lots in a gritty neighborhood at the edge of California’s dusty, smudged, oil-and-agriculture heart.
The calendar was there because Kenny Graham knew it was the most reliable way to see it. Danielle desperately wanted her father, a four-time Pro Bowl pick during San Diego’s golden days of the American Football League, to attend her upcoming wedding.