Category: Massaro World

Hi!  If you’re reading this, it means at some point you supplied information to my blog page allowing emails to be sent, informing you that I’ve submitted a new post.  I owe a big thanks to my buddy Dave T. for getting this notification process up and running!

I also want to thank you!  You probably subscribed to my site because something I wrote interested you.  Or, you didn’t find anything interesting but in the name of friendship you subscribed so I wouldn’t feel bad.  Or, you realized that some of what I wrote was so incredibly stupid that it would be unfair not to share and laugh about my ignorance with your real friends.  Or, we’re related.  Just so you know, I’m fine with any of those reasons.

Normally I’ve been sharing my posts on Facebook, and I’ll continue to do that from time to time.  However, you as a subscriber will now get bonus coverage that the general public will not have access to.  Together we’ll  tackle the tough issues we all ponder from time to time, issues like;  When ‘dining in’ at a fast food restaurant that offers free refills on soft drinks, why would anyone buy a large beverage?  Or, before turn signals on cars were invented, were drivers in Alaska really ticketed for not using arm gestures when stopping or making a turn?  And the age old question;   Why doesn’t the dog seem to be as bothered by your snoring as your spouse is?

But wait!  There’s more!  Your membership not only entitles you to share these mind blowing questions with friends on Facebook, it also allows you to make comments directly to me on my blog site!  But wait!  There’s more!  Unlike some of your Facebook friends, I’ll respond!!!!

You’ll see that I’ve changed the header on my site to say;  Welcome To My Mind  Uniquely Created; Similarly Evolved;  That’s because I believe that while God has made each of us unique, He has not made us different.  Through age and experience many of us have been drawn together.  Where once we may have been unable to imagine a life built around God and family, we now are unable to imagine a life without both at the center.  In that sense we are not so different, we’ve evolved.  Whether what I post is an attempt at humor, a story of faith, or a combination of both, my hope is that you’ll be able to relate, and say, “Yeah, I get it,” or, “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.”  And if sometimes all you can say is, “Huh?”  That’s okay too.

Finally, I have a favor to ask.  If you have a friend who you think might be interested in some of my posts, point them toward my site and ask them to subscribe.  I’d appreciate that.  Have a great day!

Thanks again for subscribing,

Dale

 

Home alone Friday evening, I was sitting on the couch watching television when at about 6:30 the doorbell rang.  I don’t like when the door bell rings, because rarely when I open it do I find someone on the other side who I actually want to see.  My doorbell ringing visitors normally fall into one of three categories; 1) The political candidate looking for my support.  I politely accept their literature, tell them I’m planning on voting for them and wish them the best of luck.  Technically that’s probably going to turn out to be a lie.  I haven’t made any such plans about their candidacy, but it gets them off of my doorstep quickly and everyone walks away happy.  2) The solicitor.  Regardless of what they’re selling, my pat answer is that I gave at the office.  Although I only count this as one lie, I suppose it could be considered two.  I didn’t really give at the office because I currently don’t have an office.  However the genius of this response is that the person can’t figure out a way to sell me something I supposedly already have, so this also gets them off of my porch rather quickly.  This scenario leaves only one of us happy, but the good thing is that it’s me.  3) The Jehovah’s Witnesses.  This is a tough one.  There’s almost no way of getting them to leave quickly.  I thank them for wanting to save my soul and let them know that just 20 years ago Jesus knocked on my door and informed me that He had already taken care of that for me, so I’m good to go…..so to speak.  I’m able to look them in the eye and say it with a straight face because thankfully that one actually is the truth.  Having said that, I hate to admit this.  If God measured the amount of times I tell the truth to people who knock on my door the same way statisticians measure baseball batting averages, I’d be hitting .333 and considered to be a super star.  Unfortunately He doesn’t so, I’m not.

Friday’s visitor was a solicitor.  At first when I opened the door I didn’t see anyone.  Not until I looked down did I see the pint sized salesman.  A little kid about ten years old looked up at me and said, “Hey mister, can I mow your lawn?”  He was a cute little twerp, very polite.  I was a couple of days tardy in mowing the yard so it did need it.  This should have been a no brainer, but without even giving it a thought I said, “No thanks, I mow it myself.”  He said, “Okay.” and walked away looking kind of dejected.

I sat back down to watch more television and began to think of all the times I went door to door asking people if I could mow their lawns or shovel their sidewalks and wondered why kids don’t do that anymore.  Maybe I thought, it was because adults like me don’t give them the chance.  I rushed to the door, ran outside, and looked up and down the block.  I wanted to say, “Come back you cute little freckle faced kid, I’ll let you mow my lawn.”  But I was too late.  He was gone.

I have to admit that I was disappointed in myself.  Many of us, and that includes me, like to talk about how kids just aren’t the same as they used to be.  That usually means they’re not as polite or as hard working as we think that we were.  To a certain extent, that may be true.  But what’s just as true, what we need to face up to, is that a lot of adults aren’t the same as they used to be either.  Many adults back in “our day” would have been smart enough to let that kid mow his lawn, understood the importance of allowing him to do it.  Not only that, they would have let him mow it whether the lawn needed mowing or not.  Then when he was done, they would have paid him and probably given him a glass of lemonade to boot.

I want a second chance. I want that kid to come back and ask me again.  But he won’t, because my house is now the one where the guy who mows his own lawn lives.  As the saying goes, you only get one chance to make a first impression.

There’s a book that came out a number of years ago titled, ‘Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus.  It was on the best seller list for 121 weeks and sold over 50 million copies, none of those copies was sold to me.  Being somewhat narrow minded I never felt  the need to spend money on a book that was going to tell me what I already knew; that is, that men and women think differently.  I first realized this when I was about 10 years old. 

My parents bought me a model car kit to build.  It was a 1955 Chevy, and I spent days assembling that plastic beauty.  I carefully painted it, applied, removed, and reapplied the decals so that the pinstripes would look perfectly even, made sure the wheels rolled just right; then when I was all done and satisfied that it looked perfect, I decided to use my dad’s lighter to set the front of the car on fire in order to make it appear as if it had been in a horrible crash.  As a flame rose from the right front fender, the car began to melt.  Hot plastic, like molten lava dripped onto my right index finger. (the scar is still visible 48 years later)  When I threw the car into the air and screamed, my mom ran in, took one look at what was going on and calmly said, “Dale, sometimes you don’t use the brains you were born with.”  Feeling proud that she was giving me credit for having any brains at all, I took her statement as a compliment.  Not until my brother explained that she was calling me a dumb little kid, did I realize that by not taking offense at her comment I was actually making her point for her.  Personal experience more than any book ever could, led me to the understanding that men and women sometimes do not communicate their thoughts very well.

Last week on Facebook I posted the following;

Recently added to my list of things not to ask (say to) your wife. “What do you think I am, stupid or something?” Guys, the mere fact that you felt compelled to ask this question in the first place, should be a good indication that you both already think you know the answer. Just let it go. Keep Quiet, Keep Calm, and Move On.

Going forward, as a public service to all of my male friends I will periodically post more of my ‘Things not to ask (say to) your wife’  Not because I think any of us are stupid, just because we can always use helpful reminders to prevent us from saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.

‘Things not to ask (say to) your wife’ # 2

You’re lying on the couch and just to make conversation you say;

“The sump pump made a weird noise when I tested it the other day, it may be time to put in a new one, after all it is 20 years old”

Here’s what she heard;

“The sump pump is completely trashed and the basement is likely to flood tomorrow morning.  I’d better run to Lowes, pick up everything I need to replace it and start working on it right away!  The fact that it hasn’t rained in 2 and a half months and the Doppler radar shows clear skies all the way from the coast of Japan, is irrelevant, you can’t be too careful with these crazy weather patterns.  Besides, there’s nothing better to do and I don’t really care that the football game is tied at 27 going into the fourth quarter, because it’s a boring game anyway.  And even though I’ve never put one of these in before I’m sure I’ll be done in a jiffy.  How hard could it be?  Maybe if I get done early enough I can start on that three season room that we talked about building 7 years ago.”

Important Note:  Guys, this does not only apply to sump pumps.  It can happen with any household repair; garbage disposals, garage door openers, anything.  Therefore, if you don’t plan on doing the job immediately, just shut up!

On Monday I received my most recent  job rejection from a company I will call ABC, it read;

Dear Dale,

 Thank you for your interest in employment with ABC.  We have reviewed your resume and have carefully considered your qualifications.  While your skills are certainly impressive, we have decided to pursue other candidates for the Procurement Manager position.

Please let us know if you would like us to maintain your resume in our candidate database.

Again, thank you for your interest in employment with ABC.

I have received this type of letter more than once, but this one was especially frustrating for a number of reasons.

First of all I didn’t think they were lying to me, I really do believe ABC thought my skills were impressive.  In fact when I sent my resume, the biggest fear I had was that they wouldn’t believe it because my work experience and qualifications seemed to fit too perfectly with their job description.  The match was so identical that I briefly considered dumbing down my resume out of fear that ABC would think it was a fabrication, written specifically to match their ad.

Along with the position requirements, ABC had also clearly stated “No phone calls please.”  Understanding how resume’s can get lost in the shuffle (but still wanting to follow their instructions) I opted to send a hand written letter to the VP of Human Resources, thanking him for accepting my resume and giving him a heads up that I was a qualified candidate.  I hoped at the very least, the letter would get ABC’s attention.

I then began to mention ABC to everyone I talked with.  As luck would have it I stumbled across a couple of friends who did business with them and knew people in management there.  They promised to put in a good word for me and I have every confidence that they did.

With a resume that matched the job description perfectly, a handwritten note to bring attention to it and some personal references passed on to people who could make a difference, I was feeling pretty confident that an interview was imminent, until I received the email on Monday.

So what went wrong?  Did it have anything to do with the fact that my resume shows being employed 33 years with the same company?  I think maybe it did.  You don’t need to be a mathematician to figure out that 33 years of service puts me somewhere in the 50 to 60 year old range.  Don’t get me wrong, this is not meant to be sour grapes.  I still believe that companies should be allowed to hire who they want to, regardless of age, sex, race, religious affiliation or almost anything else.  If it’s your business, you should within reason be allowed to run it as you see fit.  What I’m trying to point out, because so many of us now fall into this range, is that age does matter.

Now maybe it doesn’t matter to us, because we know that we haven’t gotten old, we’ve just aged, and we understand the difference.  And while it’s true that many of our views and opinions were formed long ago, it doesn’t mean they’ve been set in stone.  On the contrary, we are wise enough to be flexible, mature enough to be understanding, and experienced enough to be mentors.  Not only do we still have the energy, we also have the desire and the work ethic to contribute greatly.  However, the reality is that so often we are not seen this way.

There’s delusion associated with youth, a kind of defense mechanism that can cause the young to believe this “aging thing” will never happen to them.  It can affect the way they make decisions.  There’s also an arrogance which allows them to think that if the unthinkable happens and they do age, they’ll never be looked upon as old.  We probably shouldn’t judge them too harshly for this, because we’ve been there.  They’re young, they’ll learn just like we did.

There’s a saying I heard many years ago that I really didn’t understand, probably because I was too young.  It goes; Young men think old men are fools.  Old men know that young men are.

Now I get it.

I’m tired of athletes with Twitter accounts.  I’m tired of entertainers with microphones stuck in their face.  I’m tired of reality stars who open their mouths and allow words to come out.  Hell, I’m just tired of celebrities in general.

Why we give so much time and attention to the opinions of people who can barely put two intelligent words together unless they’re reading them off of a script or cue card is beyond me.  And why we hang on every one of the 140 characters punched into an I phone by any idiot who was fortunate enough to be blessed with opposing thumbs, remains a mystery.

We seem to have become a nation obsessed with celebrity.  A place where if you have a number one single, can dunk a basketball, or act well enough to convince people that you really are an action hero, then any idiotic thing which comes out of your mouth, or thumbs for that matter, is automatically labeled, at it’s best intelligent or at it’s least news worthy.

The sad thing is that we’re the ones who’ve convinced these people that their opinions matter.  For so long we’ve told them how wonderful they are, that they’ve grown to believe it.  We’ve told them that if they’re rich and famous, or either, then their thoughts must be profound and we should take note of them.

My blood pressure began to go up once again when I made the mistake of reading some celebrity tweets on the George Zimmerman trial.  For example;

And our taxes paid for that trial. We just paid to see a murderer walk free after killing an innocent unarmed little boy.  Nicki Minaj  (entertainer)

All them jurors should go home tonight and kill themselves for letting a grown man get away with killing a kid.  Roddy White (football player)

America justice system is a joke.  Kendrick Perkins  (basketball player)

This is America waddya expect? The only thing u aren’t allowed to kill in an instant is a fetus. Hey Zim, find another hobby now that u won.  Bill Maher  (not really sure what he’s supposed to be)

Finally, David Simon, a television producer and the creator of an HBO show called, ‘The Wire.’  He decided to vent his outrage concerning the Zimmerman trial and wrote the following;

“If I were a person of color in Florida, I would pick up a brick and start walking toward that courthouse in Sanford.”  and this, “Tonight, anyone who truly understands what justice is and what it requires of a society is ashamed to call himself an American.”

Take a minute to let that sink in.  He seems to be implying that if he were black he would riot.  Then he suggests, if people had any brains at all, (I guess like he does) they should be ashamed to be Americans.  I can only presume he’s saying this because six jurors who heard all of the evidence in the trial, evidence which in some cases only they heard, came to a conclusion that was contrary to what he thought it should be.

I don’t always consider myself to be the most ardent flag waver and patriot, but I do need to say this; With all of the problems this country has, and there are many, it still allows people like Mr. Simon or anyone else to speak like a fool without fear of punishment.  It also allows them to pack up their belongings and find a different country in which to live if that is what they choose to do.  If you are ashamed to be one of us then please go.  There will be no hard feelings, I promise.

However, if you choose to stay, then sing your songs, say your lines, shoot your three point jump shots, produce your TV shows, and make your millions.  But please stop believing that fame or money somehow make you the smartest person in the room.  Maybe then I’ll start caring about your opinion.

Until then I’ll try and focus my attention on people like Donte’ Stallworth a professional football player who somewhat renewed my faith, when he tweeted the following;

Instead of rage & anger, let’s direct that emotion towards a positive movement. Like education, poverty & black on black crime in the hood.  Well said Mr. Stallworth.

Last week on Facebook I mentioned how I had been watching the Champions Golf Tour on TV when I allowed my curiosity to get the better of me.  I decided to start Google searching the age of the players in this 50 and older league.  I didn’t realize this was a truly bad idea until I discovered that seven of the first ten players I searched the ages of were younger than me.   Immediately I became aware of why a few years ago they changed the name of this tour from the Senior PGA Tour to the Champions Golf Tour.  No one needs a constant reminder that they have become a “senior.”  You might say I’ve started to become a little sensitive about it.

The scene:  My wife and I are sitting at the kitchen table.  She’s putting on her make-up and fanning herself with last Sunday’s church bulletin.  I’m looking at Facebook, and drinking a piping hot cup of coffee wearing a long sleeve shirt, sweatpants and furry slippers;

Me:  Will you please stop doing that?  You’re creating a draft!

Sue:  Are you nuts?  It’s hot in here!

Me:  You already know the answer to your obviously rhetorical question about my sanity and as far as it being hot in here, you’re the one who’s nuts.  It’s freezing!  If you stuck your tongue to my nose right now you’d end up like the kid in that movie A Christmas Story.

Sue: (Laughing)

Me:  Go ahead try it, I’m serious!

Sue:  I know you’re serious, and I have to be honest, that worries me a little.  I’m not going to stick my tongue to your nose, I heard you sneezing before.

Me:  I sneezed because you have the thermostat set at 60.

Sue:  Actually it’s set at 70.

Me:  Same difference.

Sue:  In what world is 60 and 70 the sa……forget it, please don’t answer that.  Boy, in the last year I’ve noticed you’re cold a lot.

Me:  You don’t really want to go there do you?

Sue:  What?  I’m just saying.

Me:  I know what you’re saying, you’re saying my blood is thin.  You’re saying I’m getting old.  Don’t think I don’t remember us laughing about your Great Uncle Fred being dressed in earmuffs and a parka on 85 degree days in the middle of summer.

Sue:  I never said you’re old.  All I said was that you seem to be cold a lot.

Me:  Old, cold, what’s the difference?

Sue:  No difference Uncle Fred.  No difference at all.

Dear Mr. Tovar,

I recently read the statement below with great interest;

“We are ending our relationship with Paula Deen Enterprises and will not place new orders beyond those already committed,” said Dave Tovar, a Wal-Mart spokesman. “We will work with suppliers to address existing inventories and agreements.”

I noticed you did not specify in your statement why you were ending your relationship but I’ll assume it has something to do with the use of that offensive N word that has been so highly publicized in the media.  I would first like to say that I’ve never really been much of a Paula Deen fan and fully support your right to end a business relationship with anyone you choose, and for any reason.  I think there is already too much government interference in how people run their businesses.  But I fear your company is sending out mixed signals.  As I was browsing through the music section in your fine establishment I noticed some CD’s by artists I found curious you would be carrying.  I was wondering if you may want to “end your relationship” with them also.

Let me illustrate my point by sharing with you a portion of one of Snoop Dogg’s songs titled “Murder Was The Case.”  Knowing how sensitive you are to offensive words I’ve placed the naughty ones in parenthesis using only the first initial.

Man he’s Snoop Dogg  Man (F word) that (N word!!)
(N word) man!  Get that (N word) man!
Man get up fool man, get up man, don’t be tryin to run man
Get up on that fool man, I don’t give a (F word)
What set you got now? (F word) you (N word!)
Yeah (N word) whassup?  (N word?)
Yeah (MF word)  Yeah (N word), one less (N word)
Yeah (N word), youse a dead (MF word) now

Admittedly his grammar isn’t the best, but there are two more verses and a chorus that are just as good as this.  A true masterpiece.  That was an attempt at sarcasm sir.

And here is part of the song A.D.H.D. by Kendrick Lamar.  You carry his CD’s in your store also;

(F word) that  8 doobies to the face (F word) that 12 bottles in the case
(N word), (F word) that 2 pills and a half, wait (N word), (F word) that Got a high tolerance When your age don’t exist

While undoubtedly destined to go down as one of the true classics right up there with the likes of Bing Crosby’s White Christmas there are some who might find the lyrics offensive.  I’m sorry, yes that was more sarcasm.

And finally one of my personal favorites from R Kelly.  I found one of his CD’s in your store too;

Gettin that money my (N word) Ha ha, ha ha
Ha ha ha ha ha ha gotta laugh at this (S word) get.. this.. money
Gettin this money my (N word) Yeah, ohh oh ohh oh
Oh it’s too late to get scared (N word) get.. this.. mo-ney
It’s way too late now… gettin this money my (N word) get.. this.. mo-ney
Gettin that money my (N word)

I believe Mr. Tovar, that most people now a days are looking for some consistency.  It bothers us when we’re sent mixed signals.  We don’t really like to be told that something is offensive one minute but perfectly fine the next.  And for Walmart to carry this type of music does not seem to be consistent with the high standards you purport to have.  Forgive me for being confused and I hope you won’t be offended by my asking, “What the dif (MF word)?”  Oh, MF doesn’t stand for My Friend?  Sorry.

Very Sincerely,

Dale A. Massaro

P.S.  Can you do something about your shopping carts?  The wheels wobble.

Have you ever used racial slurs?  I have, more than once I’m sure.  Sometimes I’ve used them out of anger.  Spitting out the words because they somehow gave me a brief but embarrassingly satisfying way to vent some particular frustration.  Sometimes I’ve used them because I thought I was being funny, a sophomoric way to evoke laughter from someone, much like many modern day stand up comedians do.  Those who use profanity seemingly with every other word because they aren’t creative or clever enough to entertain with original thoughts or ideas.  Do I believe that using a racial slur is an ignorant way to express myself?  Sure I do.  But does the mere use of certain words make me a racist?  Obviously there are people who will tell you that they do.  Those who believe that all things said, in some way hold hidden truths and meanings.  I for one don’t subscribe to that theory.

Our country has put itself into a box.  We have become a place where words carry more weight than actions.  A place where one ill timed, misinterpreted, or yes, ignorant word can wipe out an entire life of accomplishment or kindness.  We enjoy extracting one statement out of many, and using it as a gauge to measure ones character, ignoring all other factors.  How many of us would be able to emerge unscathed from the scrutiny of our past comments?

We have backed ourselves into a corner.  Admit to using a racial slur and you’re labeled a racist.  Paula Deen comes immediately to mind.  Deny ever using one and you risk being labeled a lying racist.  Those of you who are old enough will be able to remember the circumstances surrounding Mark Furman, one of the lead investigators in the OJ Simpson murder trial.

We’ve become so defensive that we have begun to link together the terms racism and criticism.  Criticize an individual of another race, black or white, and take the chance of being accused of painting the entire group with the same brush, as if criticism and racism are synonymous.  The fact is, at times we are all critics.  Maybe we are critical of  people who choose to live in our society as uncivilized animals rather than productive human beings, as takers rather than givers.  Those people sometimes happen to be white, and sometimes they happen to be black, or Asian or Hispanic, or Indian.  Choose any ethnicity you like, still, for the majority of us, our criticism is not driven by race, it is directed (to paraphrase Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.) not at the color of ones skin but at the content of their character .

It’s been interesting to watch the reactions during this recent Paula Deen case.  I would’ve loved to have been in the board room at Food Network or any of the other companies that decided to discontinue their association with her, if only to hear the discussion of how they would express to the public their disdain for all of the “terrible” things she has said.  It would’ve been fascinating because in most cases I don’t think these companies are all that morally bothered by anything she has said or done.  I also don’t believe that any of them really think she is a racist.  If they suspected she was, then they should have fired her long ago.  Their dilemma and fear is that if they don’t punish her they risk being viewed as racists themselves, and while it may be the cowardly way out, they’re making what they believe to be the politically and financially correct move.

I’ve also watched with interest the people who have portrayed themselves as being injured by all of this.  The people who delight for reasons known only to them, in seeing themselves as victims of injustice and discrimination, often where there is none.  The people who are really not as offended as they want you to believe they are.  The people who just want to be a part of making an example of someone.

If you’re reading this as a defense of Paula Deen, please read again.  The question of her alleged racism is something only she knows the truth about.  It’s between her and God.   Racism is wrong.  Always.   But when will we learn that sensationalism and over reaction is not the way to bridge the racial gap that exists in this country, and as long as we think it is there are no winners.

My wife and daughter were walking past a local grade school with our grandson and dogs yesterday.  At the same time a drum and bugle competition was being held at the nearby high school and apparently the competing squads were given assigned areas to practice before it was their turn to perform.  Some parents of the squad were milling around on the sidewalk in front of the school my wife and daughter were attempting to walk past.  As they approached and tried to pass, the “adults” on the sidewalk refused to step aside and my family was forced into the street in order to go by.  A big deal?  Maybe not, but it got me thinking how apparently giving a kid a uniform and telling him how great he is does not only promote bad parental behavior in the world of sports.  I guess it bleeds over into the rough and tumble world of drum and bugle competitions also.

For about 12 years I coached a youth basketball team for one of our local Lutheran grade schools.  The very first thing any of my players were talked to about, long before learning how to pass, dribble, or shoot the ball, was something called respect.  Respect for your coaches, your teammates, your opponents, the referees, opposing fans, you name it.  All else was secondary.  The speech was always given to them in the presence of their parents.

Four years ago our team was fortunate enough to be very good.  We took third place in the state at the Illinois Lutheran Basketball Tournament and were invited to play in the National Tournament at Valparaiso University in Indiana.

Playing a team from Iowa in what was a double elimination format, we both had one loss, meaning the loser of this game would be out of the tournament.  Both teams were fighting hard, we were leading by 3 points with about a minute left and decided to go into a stall offense to prevent the other team from getting the ball back and possibly tying the game.  As we passed the ball around to keep it away from our opponent some parents from the other team, one guy in particular started berating our players.  Shouting at them to “Play the game!”  He then got the crowd involved, chanting “BORING, BORING!”  It really rattled our kids, remember we are talking about 7th and 8th graders.  We ended up losing the ball, the other team got it, scored, and were now within a point.  Fortunately we got the ball back, made a few free throws and hung on to win the game.  Eventually we would lose our next game and be eliminated from the tournament also.

As I was leaving the gymnasium a car pulled up along side of me and rolled down the window.  A woman stuck her head out and said, “I want to apologize, it was my husband who was yelling the loudest at your players.  But I have to tell you what one of your boys did.”  Oh no I thought, here it comes, if one of my players said or did something to make our team and school look bad I’m going to go nuts.  “What happened?” I asked.  “One of your players came up to my husband and said,” “Sir, with all due respect, all we were trying to do was win the game.”  “I loved it!” she laughed, “My husband had no response.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen him speechless before.”

I’ve thought many times of how proud I was of him and the words he used.  Sir and respect.  Words that he had obviously learned at home from his parents and that I was fortunate enough to be allowed to reinforce in him.

Now it’s four years later, we haven’t really stayed in touch, I see him or his parents around the neighborhood, we may stop and talk for a couple minutes or just say hello.  But he has invited me to his high school graduation party, and today I am attending.  I will know hardly anyone there but I wouldn’t miss it for the world.  Because you see, it’s a matter of respect.