I was about twelve. Dad was watching the news on CBC. There was a report about prostitution, and the reporter made the point that, in Canada, prostitution was legal, but soliciting a prostitute wasn’t. I was old enough that I had a handle on what prostitution was but I was confused about solicitation. So I asked Dad.
He explained that solicitiation meant, in essence, a prostitute offering sex for money.
“Oh,” I said. After a moment I asked, “So why do they call him the Solicitor General?”
Dad laughed harder than I think I’d ever seen him laugh in his life*. He never did answer my question.
* One thing I inherited from Dad is the way he laughed. He would find a lot of things mildly funny, enough for a smirk or a smile, but you knew he’d really been tickled by something if he guffawed, loud and usually with little warning.
My dad passed away recently. I’m going to be posting little memories of him for the next little while. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.