" And your father?” my aunt said. “My father was a good guy,” I said. I believed this to be true. Also, this was what most people said about him. For instance, his former athletes and fellow coaches at his funeral: Roger Bledsoe was a good coach, they said, but more than that, he was a good guy. “Have you ever noticed,” my aunt said, “that whenever someone says someone else is a good guy, then no one ever wants to know anything more about it? But when someone gets called a bad guy, then that’s not enough. We want to know exactly how and why.” I had not ever noticed this. It was probably worth noticing. But I was wondering about something else. “How well did you know my father?” “Well enough,” my aunt said. “Did you know his sayings?” Aunt Beatrice smiled and said, “This isn’t my first rodeo, you know.” Her expression was fond, and far away, very much like those people at my father’s funeral, and I expected her to say that my father was a good guy, but she didn’t. "

― Brock Clarke , Who are You, Calvin Bledsoe?