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All those years ago, when I was babysitting his kids, I never imagined that someday I’d be sitting across a desk from him talking about deductions. The meeting made me feel very old and grown up, and apparently less financially complex than I had believed. (He kindly advised that if I choose to go the TurboTax route next year, he will not be offended.)

How many years has he been in that office? Or wasn’t he with a big firm 30 years ago? I recall he also had a home office -- one of the first ones I’d seen. The office used to be a den before his family moved in, and I know that because one of my friends lived in that house, and we watched TV in the den with her sisters.

It’s strange what you remember ... I remember sitting in his living room, poring over the lyrics to Supertramp’s “Breakfast in America” album and not hearing him and his wife come home. A similar incident happened with Springsteen’s “Born to Run,” which proved my musical taste got better, and that I didn’t learn to be a better listener.

It’s strange how people from your childhood drop back into your life further down the road. In my last job, the manager of human resources was the dad of a family I babysat way back in the day. I had not seen him for decades, but one day we were riding in an elevator and I wanted to tell him, “I remember one time you drove me home, late on a Saturday night, just one block. Clapton’s ‘Lay Down Sally’ came on the radio, and you were singing it. You were so relaxed and happy.” [There is nothing inappropriate about that story, I assure you – I was just amazed to witness a grown-up singing along with the radio.]

One of my favorite families had a dad who taped pictures of sports cars inside the kitchen cabinets. Some people had recipes or family snapshots inside their cabinets – he had Porsches.