There comes a time in a young man’s life when he must throw off his child-like ways and face the cold hard realities of life - one of which is that your father is not always perfect.
Now that my oldest son has graduated, it is time for him to fully understand how truly imperfect I am.
To examine this, one has to travel all the way back to my son’s kindergarten year. In other words, this column has been locked away in my mind for more than a dozen years.
This is a column that my 18-year-old will simply find embarrassing now. However, if I had written it when he was 12 or 13, it may have required therapy. So in some ways, he’s ahead of the game.
So what could be so bad?
How about showing up at your son’s school without your pants on.
Bet you didn’t see that coming, did you?
Sure, it happens all the time in dreams, but trust me after seeing me in nothing but my Fruit of the Looms, no one was dreaming about anything for quite awhile.
I suppose the only place to start is the beginning. For awhile I had made a habit of going to the YMCA over my lunch hour. On this particular day, I noticed my gym shorts were still in the washer, so I threw them in the dryer. After a peanut butter sandwich and a dozen Oreos, I knew it was time to work off both the creamy filling and its crunchy cookie container.
So off I went, with a little music on my iPod and a sporty new pair of Adidas tennis shoes to add a little bounce in my step. After a grueling 15 minutes on the treadmill and a near heart-stopping 15 minutes on the stair climber, I was nearly at the end of my rigorous training regime.