It was August 8, 1991, before I ever called my buddy Rolf’s dad “Bud” like everyone else did. Until that date, he had been “Mr. Kragseth” to me for over 20 years.

This memory came back last week. I frequently drive the neighborhood kids to school along with my own; the five of them are pretty good buddies and it’s fun to hear them discuss the important issues of the day as we make our way to the middle school and high school.

I used to participate in the conversation but as the kids have gotten older, I’ve turned into somewhat of a taxi driver. They’re very polite, but it co...