All’s Well That Ends Well – AKA: This Means War

Dear son,

I don’t usually address you directly in my blog. But astute readers will note that you form part of my target audience of two. I started writing this blog many years ago when you were just six weeks old as a way to document our travels together. Over the past eleven years it has morphed into something of a “Notebook” wherein I document our life together. Recently you have discovered my writings and begged me to read them to you every day. I have certainly loved sharing so many memories with you and I greatly appreciate your love not only for what I wrote but for me.

Of course, I love you and your sister more than anything. That’s why I’m going to tell you this little story by way of offering some fatherly advice.

Six months ago I started working in education once again. After a one year hiatus I was given a chance to return not only to the classroom I love so much but to school administration – something I always believed I could be good at. And once again God has provided a magnificent setting for me. The school is awesome! The kids are awesome! The principal is awesome! The third season of Dallas is awesome but that’s another story.

The school year ended last week on a high note. I got to call out awards at the award ceremony. I got to shake hands with each of the graduates at the graduation. I met with the other high school teachers this morning to discuss our plans for next year. And I did what I love best about being a teacher at this time of year. I walked out the door for some well-earned vacation time.

You also know that since recovering from my second spinal fusion a few years ago I’ve been making a very strong effort to get in the best shape possible for a man of my age. Here again, the school comes in handy. There is a small but adequate weight room in the basement. Tonight I went over to lift weights with a friend who’s kids also go to the school. I left feeling pumped – literally and in spirit. What could possible go wrong? I mean, Kim Jong Un could launch a missile at Hawaii but these things are always likely when, as Sam from Wendover says, “you give a two year-old a Minecraft server”.

Well… Here’s what “went wrong”. Seems some of our students had some free time on their hands and spotted me leaving the school. They followed me home. The unloaded a roll of toilet paper on my car and our neighbor’s crepe myrtle tree. I inadvertently scared them off when I went to close the garage door your grandmother had accidentally left open a few minutes earlier.

When you came outside with me and asked what all of this meant I explained the common (and most lame) high school prank known as “teepee-ing”. Your response was classic.

But I thought your students liked you?

They do, son. They’re just teenage boys. We can’t fault them. The frontal lobes of their brains haven’t finished forming yet. At this stage of the game they have room up there for all of three simultaneous thoughts and two of them involve food. What they do not think about are consequences. As in, Daddy is Irish. The Irish don’t forget things. We invented the phrase “Revenge is a dish best served cold.” What’s that, son? Shush now. Yes, I know the Bible says “Vengeance is Mine, sayeth the Lord,” but this isn’t really vengeance sayeth Daddy. It’s more of an issue of justice, which is a virtue. Stop looking at me like that. How else can I be expected to help form them into fine and productive men for God? Even if that formation might take place years from now when they least expect it. Hey, education is a lifelong endeavor.

So my advice to you is this. Don’t ever do something so stupid. I’ve mastered the long game and your parents like me, I mean, you know what? This will be settled. War is hell, Irene. War is hell. What’s that? Who’s Irene? Son, don’t you know your memes? I can see there’s a lot of advice Daddy hasn’t dispensed yet. But I’m glad YOU are on my side.

PS: This is all part of the fun of what I do and who I am. No harm, no foul, as they say. The boys were just having some fun (albeit not thought out ahead of time since cameras were involved) and I truly bear them no ill will. In fact, they’re my students. I love them. See you in September, boys…