Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth
In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.
Hair on the Chest
“That'll put hair on your chest!”
It's what my father always says when the tea's too strong.
It's a standing joke. Legs aside, none of the men in my family have much body hair to speak of. If there's any Neandertal DNA left in there, it must have got diluted out a long, long time ago.
“Gee,” I quip, “You mean I'll have seventeen?”
“Quit bragging!” says my father.
You raised a son with the courage to be himself.
I call that pretty damned good parenting.
Happy Birthday, dad.
Job well done.
Author's recent posts
Comments
-
Please login first in order for you to submit comments
