Sunday, June 19, 2011

My father.

My dad taught me to throw a football. He taught me how to shoot a bow and arrow. He taught me how to drive. He taught me that getting drunk on champagne or red label Budweiser is a one-way ticket to a brutal hangover. He taught me about the four corners offense and how Dean Smith designed the system. He taught me to respect my mother and that because I respect my mother, I should respect all women. He taught me that words have meaning and I should choose them carefully. He taught me that the “00” in James Bond’s agent number meant he had a license to kill. He taught me how to bait a hook. He taught me how to warn approaching cars of a speed trap. He taught me that boys pee standing up. He taught me that it is best to take two steps off of first to get ready for a steal and it’s foolish not to use them. He taught me that family comes before anyone else. He taught me that Fredo was weak and stupid.
As a boy, he taught me that he was my father, not my friend.

He’s both now.