Charlene said."Dad, You're 85 now. You're not going to live forever, you know." Dad said."What's your point?" She said."Do you want to—forgive the phrase—pass on anything? A tip? A caveat? After all these years, I still don't know what makes you tick." He said."I'm your father. What more do you need to know? here's something for you: I was born in Brooklyn. Does that help?" She said."C'mon, Dad! Give me something I can hold onto." He said." Give you something to hold onto? You never gave me 'something'—grandkids. I got nothing to say. Anyway, who cares what I got to say?" She said."I do, for one." He said." Well, one's the closest you can get to zero. You want a tip? Pass this on to your neighbor's grandkids: All you have to know is where your next meal is coming from."