On New Year’s Eve, 1996, I became a father for the first time. Bonnie changed my life in all of the right ways. My beautiful red-headed girl.
On July 23, 1998, I became a father for the second time. Gracie was almost 11 lbs when she was born, looking like two loaves of uncooked bread.
On June 20, 2001, things changed again. Up until that point, I had been the father of two daughters. On that day, things changed once again.
I had a son. Dane Thomas. Named for my wife’s heritage, her father, her brother, my father, my brothers, all blended into a name fitting this little strawberry blonde kid.
Today, Dane turns 16 years old. He drives. He plays trumpet, He plays golf, and he games with the old man. He’s practical and saves his money… in his wallet, which he can’t find at the moment.
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Fathers live vicariously through their sons, perhaps even more so than mothers through their daughters. We start ’em off playing baseball, basketball, football, and golf. Over time, they find the things they like, discard the things they no longer find fun, and move forward from there.
I’m a proud dad, and the boy is growing strong and true, with maybe a bit more common sense than I certainly ever demonstrated at his age.
Happy Birthday, Son. I’m proud of you.
Peace y’all.
