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It’s Just a Number
It was a BIG birthday this week. 60. It hurts to say it much more than anything else. Since age 40, I’ve had some students say, “What? You are THAT old? You don’t look that old.” Thanks. It has helped to hear that. They swear they didn’t say it for good grades; they really meant it . . . they said. I don’t know what I expected 60 to be. Like every birthday, it doesn’t feel any different. It helps it has come a couple of weeks after retirement. Now there is more time for reminiscing. Wow, 60 birthdays. I think back to the milestones. That photo above is my…
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My Dad, My Adversary
My four-year-old was sitting on a board hooked over the barber’s chair to make him taller. We had recently moved back to southern Illinois from Kentucky and I was reconnecting with people in my hometown. Monk the barber knew everyone and everything going on in the village boasting a population of 2,000. When he realized who I was, he switched the conversation. “How is ole Duck doing?” With nicknames like Monk, Duck, and Butt-cut, I didn’t know where this may be headed. I knew my daddy (Duck, short for Donald Duck) and Monk had some kind of history together from way back, so I wasn’t sure what he wanted to…
