A Father's Day story

   As my son gets older and we spend more time together doing various things, I think about The Old Man. In this entry I will call him my father. My father had me when he was much older than people had kids back then. So I never really went out and played football with him like a Kennedy or anything. It was always the little things that we did together that made me feel the best, like his only kid.
    The happiest memories of my father were of watching TV with him at night after he came home from work. He would get out the sharp cheese, crackers, and he'd have his Twelve Horse Ale. I'd sit on his lap and watch the A-Team or Mike Hammer. Sometimes when I couldn't sleep, shocker right?, he would let me watch Johnny Carson with him.
    Father's Day is pretty special for a son. I'm sure you can remember making many dad-themed gifts in school. Made with gallons of Elmer's glue and Popsicle sticks, you hoped that it would elicit a very happy reaction. I can recall vividly, making him a file holder out of this concoction. It had 'Dad' written on it in black marker. He did put papers in it and kept it in his cabinet. I was very happy. As an adult sometimes, you forget what it's like to be a little child. As I received my "Number One Dad" hand-painted coffee mug today for Father's Day, I instantly remembered, and those memories and feelings came over me like a tsunami. I hugged my son, and told him I would bring it to work on Monday and drink my ten cups of coffee out of it. And I will.
Happy Father's Day.



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