Father knows best…

Unless you ask his offspring.  How fondly I remember the day when my teen-aged daughter first called me a geezer.  What a proud day that was. It recalled to me my own youthful days of innocence.  I felt a little shaky on the day when I first began to suspect that my own father didn’t know everything ( I was thirteen).  Then, of course, like most teenagers, I began to catalog all my parents’ shortcomings, feeling the superiority of youth.  Things do change, thankfully.  It was not long before I echoed the words of Mark Twain: "When I was fourteen, I thought that my father was the stupidest man I had ever met.  By the time I was twenty-five, I was astonished at how much the old boy had managed to learn."   I’m probably misquoting slightly, but that’s the way we geezers are.

My daughter is 22 now.  She isn’t quite to the point of thinking I’ve learned a lot, but she may see a glimmer of hope for the old boy.  I’m traveling to see her for "Dad’s Weekend" at college.  She’s a senior, so this is probably my last official "Dad’s Weekend".   Maybe after I learn a little more we’ll have more to talk about on regular weekends.

While I’m on the road, I’ll probably not have an opportunity to post, but you never know.  Anyway, in the words of the governator, "I’ll be back."

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