No Off Season...for dads

I was chatting with my mom earlier. She was mentioning that she wanted to take our boys to see their great- grandparents next weekend as a way to meet up and lessen our drive for when we have to pick them up. As she continued talking, she mentioned how my granddad is doing. He has been challenged with the beginning stages of Alzheimer's Disease. She then tells me that he has had some other challenges, including a recent stroke. We ended the conversation and I was sobered. My grandmother lived in a small town in Allendale , SC. We often went there during my younger years. It was a town with about two traffic lights, gnats, one Hardees , and a constant soothing sound of freight and cargo trains. We would sit on the front porch of her house and then daringly jump off. Her car that she had for over 40 plus years still sits under the carport. She passed away some years ago. At the funeral, I was awakened to the fact that I needed to call my grandparents a lot more to check in on them.

I was cutting my grass yesterday. Tall blades were high from all of the recent rain that we had been getting. I decided to be a good neighbor and cut our neighbor’s yard as well. She was very appreciative. Well, she sent out a young man to come and sweep up the excess grass that had gathered on her walkway. I saw the young man as I usually do. He is probably no more than about 21 years old. For the sake of privacy, I’ll call him Bob. I said hello; he said, as he always does, “Hello sir!” I was taken aback as I always am when he calls me ‘sir’. He never has tried to get to know my name. He simply calls me ‘sir’. This day, I took notice of this. I began talking to him. We talked about careers and cars while we were sweeping up the grass. We talked about our professions; he thought I was a college professor. A college professor?!?!? Let that one slide. As I readied myself to go inside, I told him my full name. His response was, “My name is Bob, sir!” There goes tha