In a rush to judgment, my daughter-in-law, Roz implored me to write a short memoir of my son for her and my two grandkids, Max and KC. I've started on the piece, and I find I'm enjoying the process. I perceive my problem is that I'm going to portray him as the perfect son raised by perfect parents. The truth is located somewhere between he was a normal teenager whose experience was a path strewn with the normal potholes of anyone's life journey and "My God How did he ever live through that." But that, as we know, is not the whole story. The fact is, he has turned out fine. I tend to rate him as great. My dreams of him becoming a successful professional golfer were only my dreams, not his
The other devil in these details is the tendency to have slanted memories. I'm wondering, as I tell of the first time he came home falling down, where-the-hell am I drunk, do I really remember what color T-shirt he was wearing. As for pants, was it jeans or cut-offs? The other question might be, how sober was I when he stumbled into the house through the back door. I know. However, in some realm this stuff is important.
Anyway, I continue to strive for reality. We'll let truth sneak in when applicable. As we all know, for an Irishmen, the truth is only helpful when it moves the story. If it doesn't, imagination is necessary, for the story is more valuable than the truth.
I let Lucy out this morning for her walk on the Plain of Poop. In the last week, I have become used to the idea that I don't need a jacket, sweater or light cover over my t-shirt. It was above freezing out there at 7:00 pm. this morning. The dew point slipped up into the mid-fifties. It actually felt muggy. Three hours later as The John B and I exited the Xperience gym, an East Wind pushed cold, wet air from Lake Michigan over our fair city plunging the temperatures, the dew point, and the comfort level into the post-winter pre-spring Zone (Not Nice)
So much for the two nice days, we've been allotted so far. I want everyone to exam their lives and how they have been behaving lately. Someone has pissed Mother Nature off in no uncertain terms. Man up damn it! The rest of us are suffering for your indulgent behavior. Remember she's a mother. How and why she's so upset may not make sense. You know who you are. I stand here with my golf clubs waiting for you to take your medicine.
The other devil in these details is the tendency to have slanted memories. I'm wondering, as I tell of the first time he came home falling down, where-the-hell am I drunk, do I really remember what color T-shirt he was wearing. As for pants, was it jeans or cut-offs? The other question might be, how sober was I when he stumbled into the house through the back door. I know. However, in some realm this stuff is important.
Anyway, I continue to strive for reality. We'll let truth sneak in when applicable. As we all know, for an Irishmen, the truth is only helpful when it moves the story. If it doesn't, imagination is necessary, for the story is more valuable than the truth.
I let Lucy out this morning for her walk on the Plain of Poop. In the last week, I have become used to the idea that I don't need a jacket, sweater or light cover over my t-shirt. It was above freezing out there at 7:00 pm. this morning. The dew point slipped up into the mid-fifties. It actually felt muggy. Three hours later as The John B and I exited the Xperience gym, an East Wind pushed cold, wet air from Lake Michigan over our fair city plunging the temperatures, the dew point, and the comfort level into the post-winter pre-spring Zone (Not Nice)
So much for the two nice days, we've been allotted so far. I want everyone to exam their lives and how they have been behaving lately. Someone has pissed Mother Nature off in no uncertain terms. Man up damn it! The rest of us are suffering for your indulgent behavior. Remember she's a mother. How and why she's so upset may not make sense. You know who you are. I stand here with my golf clubs waiting for you to take your medicine.
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