But if we left a project unfinished or a tool out of place or questioned his theology, Zen morphed into zealotry. His fury and disappointment became a wretched silence; he simply stopped talking. Sometimes for days.
Eventually, one the boys would pry him out of his swampy malaise with a question about how a thermometer works or how to make dandelion wine or why warm salt water cured a sore throat or how he could use a pen to finish crossword puzzles. Even the fathers of our friends called him for answers. He knew it all without being a know-it-all.
He was Google before Google.