When I was a child, my family had little money to spare. I'm not trying to bemoan my youth spent in abject poverty like every parent in the world is obliged to do, it is just a simple fact. This is brought up to illustrate the fact that extravagance was not a part of our lives, including lavish vacations. My father REALLY enjoyed telling me that if i could run down to the end of the driveway and back before he counted to ten, then we would pack up the car right now and the whole family would go to DISNEYLAND. I would be the picture of intense concentration as I stood at the mark waiting for Dad's signal. The fate of my younger siblings' happiness rested in my hands (or feet, rather), and this was going to make me a hero in their eyes. Dad said "Go" and I was off like a prepubescent club-footed cheetah. I was always too focused on my potential glory to ever quite realize that the rate of speed counting up to ten increased as I got closer to finishing the task. Dad would always manage to say "Ten!" just as I was mere inches away from the finish line. My very soul would be crushed, but I always managed to wear a face of stoicism as my father (laughing) would say
"Oh no! And you were so close, we would have actually gone too! Well......maybe next time."
You'll notice that my word choices indicate that this happened more than once so, yes, I am as stupid as my dad is an asshole. But, Daddy Dearest was born 57 years ago today and I love him more than any little boy has ever loved his father. This is my tribute to you, and Happy Birthday Bob.