When I was a kid back in the 70s family friends of ours went into business and right from the get-go, it was the classic rags-to-riches story. We kids were all friends; I was the second youngest in our gang. They moved a ways away a few years later to Snob Hill - an exclusive development adjacent to the golf course. After that it was to a hobby horse farm a couple miles out of town. The folks were in the big time: huge sprawling house, new cars, best-in-class horses from top breeders, season tickets in the VIP section for the Oilers and Eskimos, and on and on.
The folks lived in the fast lane, but so did the kids. All the cool kids went to their place in the summer to ride horses and play in the pool. When they turned 16 daddy bought them their first car. T got a brand new Trans Am. S and K got heavily customized hot rods - Pop and I built the engines for them. (I did all the important jobs like washing parts and polishing the cylinders😉). The kids lived in the fast lane too. S got into big trouble with booze and drugs when he was 16. So did his two younger brothers at 14 and 11. I remember looking at them and wondering what had happened to them - they might as well have been space aliens.
I have my own failure day and I will never forget it. It was the first day back at work after the Christmas holidays. I went into work early and did some chores, emptied the garbage cans and chatted with the coworkers to see how their holidays went, and get a sense of what was on their plates for the day. I sat down at the computer, turned on the mail… and saw one from my daughter. I opened it up, expecting to find she’d forgotten something at our house, or that she needed some money or something trivial like that. Instead I found out that she was now a self righteous militant lesbian, and that our family - I - was going to change… or else. Somewhere I had failed as a father and failed badly. For awhile it was the end of the world for me. We haven’t seen each other since. She may as well be dead.
But I got away lightly too. Nowadays, with 76 genders and 141 sexual orientations… there are even nastier perverts out there than the queers. Can you imagine being the father of a tranny? And being forced, by law, to support and pay for incredibly expensive “gender re-assignment” “therapy”? Not to fed poast… but let’s just say I’d be in jail if that happened to me.
It took me years and a new faith to gain an appreciation for what I did have, and how much worse things could have been. Big Al’s boy did the same thing to him… and today his mid-20s son is living in his mom’s basement. He and I understand each other in ways we wish we didn’t. But we are unlikely fast friends because of it. Funny how life works these days. I thought it was nuts in the 70s and 80s…but today I wonder what planet I am on.
Things could always be a helluva lot worse. There are days my baggage weighs on me like a stone… but at such times, it’s perspective that is most important.
It’s a long weekend up here today - for those of you that have to go to work, I’d offer my condolences. But… I’d love to have a decent job to go in to. Consider your good fortune. 😉👍
Have a great Monday. Keep yer damned chins up or else!