I hope everyone is doing as well as possible, and that all of you are taking the opportunity to unplug and disconnect for a bit.
To that end, this week’s column will be free of the current topic at the forefront of everyone’s mind. So enjoy a quick break to enjoy some times when other people thought my wife and/or I were horrible parents.
I figured everyone could use a break from Coronavirus information today, so I figured I’d lighten the mood and share with everyone about the time I got stuck at the top of a Chick-fil-A playground.
As I stood at the base of the waterfall, the cool mist sprinkling over my face, I thought of the centuries of time that had passed as the waters flowed over these very rocks. I closed my eyes and reflected on the steady, relentless consistency of water, unfazed by time. And then I thought, “If I slip and fall here, I will have an incredibly bad day, as that water is really cold, there are lots of rocks out there, and my phone is in my pocket.”
Note from Mike: This column was first published in 2013. My kids are now both teens and well beyond this stage. But I hope it either still rings true for you, or has a new special meaning for those who maybe didn’t have ones at this stage six years ago. Merry Christmas.
If you have never had the joy of shopping for shoes with a 16-year-old young man, I invite you to embark upon this adventure: Ask your dog what kind of shoes it would like. When he stares at you blankly, ask him then what size he wears. Wait for blank stare. Thus is life with a 16-year-old.
My father has beehives. He got into beekeeping a few years ago, and he and my brother-in-law are the expert stewards of the hives.
The bees provide delicious honey, and are also really interesting critters to watch go about their daily bee lives.
Some might say that when you go actively looking for snakes, you probably shouldn’t be surprised when you get bitten by a venomous one.
Well, believe it or not, it’s actually more surprising than you would think.
While I have not been in college for decades, I remember vividly the college days, in particular that my gas tank and refrigerator were usually very close to empty.
And I remember when my folks would visit, and those problems would go away, as parents visiting you at college are oftentimes emergency relief funds.
I just attended my first Major League Baseball game in almost 25 years.
You must be thinking, wow, Mike, you are clearly not a baseball fan.
Au contraire.
I am a huge baseball fan. My first job ever was before I was old enough to work, and the owner of a baseball card store near my house figured out a way to game the system and, rather than pay me to work, let me have store credit if I “volunteered.” At the end of each week, he would tally up my volunteer hours and gift me a store credit. One week, my entire pay … I mean, gift … was a single baseball card, a 1980 Topps Ricky Henderson.
Thirty years ago, I went with my dad on a week-long trip to Arizona. It was one of the most amazing trips of my childhood. My dad is a biologist, and we focused on seeing all kinds of amazing critters – rattlesnakes, roadrunners and coyotes, oh my. It was a constant adventure and discovery after discovery.