As I get home from work, my wife greets me with what looks like a leftover, partly eaten Cobb salad . . . “We went to IHOP,” she says, “and we got this for you.” “Oh, thanks,” I say. “Thanks for thinking of me.” Later in the evening I catch up with my son and ask him what he had to eat at IHOP. “I had a steak omelet and pancakes,” he says. “That sounds really good. I wanted to thank you for treating me to the half-eaten Cobb salad.” “Mom said you’d like that,” he says. “And that was pretty much a whole Cobb salad.” “It looked partly eaten to me.” “The bacon was partly eaten.” “That’s the best part of the salad.” Read more →
EppsNet Archive: Fathers and Sons
The Thin Man
“The doctor said I’m really skinny,” my son says. “I’m in the 75th percentile for weight but I’m in the 94th percentile for height.” “That’s not a really big difference,” I say. “She said I could be 6-foot-4 by the time I’m 20.” “I’d like to be 6-foot-4.” “I wouldn’t,” he says. “I’m going to stand out everywhere.” “I’m 6 feet, maybe a little over, and I’m taller than most people, but if I was 6-foot-4, I’d be definitively taller than most people.” “Exactly,” he says. “I’ll be a freak.” “6-foot-4 isn’t a freak. Girls love tall guys.” “I’ll be an outcast giant.” Read more →
Lost or Not Found
My son can’t find his cell phone . . . “You should glue it to your hand,” I say, “since you lose it at least once a day.” “No, I don’t,” he says. “Once a week, then.” “Okay, but I never lose it. I just can’t find it at the time I need it.” Read more →
School’s Out
Today was the last day of school here in Irvine . . . “Can I get a ride to Orchard Park?” my son asks. He has friends that he meets there to play basketball. “Did you check with Mom?” I ask. “I don’t have to check with Mom,” he says. “I’m out of school now.” “So you don’t have to check with Mom?” “No. Not any more.” After he checks with his mom, I drive him over to the park. Actually, he drives to the park and I ride along. As we’re approaching a red light at Jeffrey and Trabuco, he says, “I’ll stop the car so you can’t even feel it.” This is something I showed him how to do. I’m pretty good at it, but he goes through so many slow-motion false stops and starts that by the time he’s done, the car is almost entirely in… Read more →
Halfway Through High School
Tomorrow’s the last day of school here in Irvine. I walk by my son’s room . . . he’s studying for his last finals and listening to bebop piano music, which is not on his normal playlist. “What you listening to, Mr. Noodling Jazz Musician?” I ask. “Thelonious Monk,” he says. “Is that part of an assignment?” I know he’s been studying the Harlem Renaissance in English. “No, it just helps me study.” He’s in 10th grade now . . . he continues to improve his study habits and time management so I pretty much let him do things the way he wants to. “OK. Let me know if you need anything.” By this time tomorrow, my little boy will be halfway done with high school . . . Read more →
Shell or Chevron?
I gotta get some gas. I pull off the freeway — Shell or Chevron? They’re right next to each other. I check the price for regular — $2.93 either way. It’s a tossup. Then my son notices on a sign that the Shell gasoline is “nitrogen enriched.” “Nitrogen enriched!?” I say. “Are you kidding me?! Fuck Chevron . . . what is nitrogen, anyway?” “It’s an element.” “Yeah I know, but who can tell me why it’s a good idea to put it in gasoline? What are we, chemistry professors?” “It seeks out and destroys engine gunk.” “What? How do you know that?” “I read it on the sign.” “Oh . . . OK then, we’re going Shell!” Read more →
The Angels Wanna Wear My Red Shoes
I’ve got the dog all hooked up for a walk but I don’t have shoes on . . . Look! Right here by the front door are my son’s prized possession — his red sneakers! He notices me slipping my feet into them and says, “Hey! What size are your feet? You’re not going to stretch them out, are you?” “Actually,” I say, “they feel a little loose.” “OK,” he says grudgingly. “Don’t step in any puddles.” Read more →
Women and Solitaire
We’re driving home from the hockey rink in Corona . . . my son’s playing solitaire on his iPod. As we’re pulling off the freeway in Irvine, he says, “I just won my first game the entire trip.” I say, “When I play it on the computer, I lose most of the time, but once in a while I’ll get like a three-game winning streak.” “Yeah, me too.” “It’s like women in that respect. The overall goal is to make you feel bad about yourself, but they throw in just enough positive reinforcement to keep you from giving up completely.” Read more →
Finding the Dragon
My son and I walk into Trader Joe’s . . . there’s a big sign that says “KIDS! Find the hidden dragon and win a prize!” “I’m going to find the dragon,” the boy announces. “I bet it’s at the free sample stand.” Not surprisingly, it’s not at the free sample stand, but while we’re there we’re able to drown our sorrows with some free baked beans and hot dogs . . . Read more →
Learning to Drive
My son’s learning to drive . . . pulling out of a parking lot, he turns right and clips the curb a little bit. I ask him, “Did you look left to make sure no one was coming?” “I saw no one was coming.” “How did you see that if you didn’t look?” “I saw it in my peripheral vision.” “Did you also see that curb you just hit in your peripheral vision?” Read more →
Twitter: 2009-05-23
Automaker bankruptcies: A success of the market system – http://bit.ly/1BgH7 # At Wingnuts w/Casey. For wings. # At Corona rink for AAU Nationals # Read more →
Shopping for Watches
I’m at Target shopping for a new watch. My son is with me. He’s 15 years old. “Bah,” he says, sizing up the display. “Where’s the platinum stuff?” “Look,” I say, “all I need here is an inexpensive watch that’ll tell me what time it is.” A guy behind us chortles. He knows what I’m talking about; he’s browsing through a rack of $19 Ray-Ban knockoffs. “Buy what you want then,” the boy says. “But my watch is very attractive to the ladies.” “What kind of watch do you have?” He’s not wearing one so I have to ask. “I’ll give you a hint,” he says. “It starts with an ‘R.’” “Very funny. What kind of watch do you have?” “OK, it’s a Casio. But it’s got a really cool band.” Read more →
The Value of Education
I’m reading a USC alumni magazine when I notice a mosquito flying around the living room ceiling. So I roll up the magazine, wait for the mosquito to drop down the wall a little bit, and crush it on the first swing. I tell my son, “I knew my USC education would come in handy.” Read more →
I Can’t Read The Sign
I’m driving my son to hockey practice . . . at Barranca and Culver, an Asian kid is holding a sign with an arrow and something written in Chinese. Or Korean maybe. “Wow,” I say, “that is racist. I’m being totally excluded from the activity, whatever it is. If he had a sign saying ‘No Whites Allowed,’ it couldn’t be any more racist.” “Maybe that’s what it says,” my son suggests. “Good point.” Read more →
Getting Pissed Off
My son tells me that when he has a hockey game, he’s now going to start getting pissed off as soon as we leave the house so he’s in the right frame of mind for the game. I can’t see how being pissed off is going to help anyone play better, but I think he’s sort of kidding. Anyway, we’re leaving for the rink . . . his mom made him a bowl of beans and rice to eat on the drive over. He takes one bite and says, “This meal SUCKS!” “Is this part of your new ‘get pissed off’ strategy?” I ask him. “The rice is SOGGY!” His phone buzzes. “Who is sending me a friggin’ TEXT message?” Read more →
Rated M for Mature
My son and I are watching a TV commercial for the Resident Evil 5 video game. “Rated M for Mature,” the commercial says. “Is anyone who plays video games really ‘mature,’” I ask, using finger quotes to emphasize “mature.” No reaction from the boy, a video game player himself. “You see what I mean?” I ask him. “No,” he says. Read more →
Metacognitive
My son’s got an assignment to write a “metacognitive” for English — basically a short essay describing the thought process he went through in writing a longer essay. “Let me know if you need any help,” I say. “You know my motto: I never metacognitive I didn’t like.” Read more →
At the Dinner Table
My son looks at his plate . . . “What’s up with these little tomatoes?” he asks. “They’re cherry tomatoes,” I tell him. “I don’t like cherries,” he says. “They’re not cherries. They’re tomatoes.” “The flavor is different than regular tomatoes.” “They’re concentrated. They pack the maximum flavor per square inch. Or since we’re talking about volume, I guess I should say the maximum flavor per cubic centimeter. That’s why Mom bought them.” “Actually,” his mom says, “I bought them because they were on sale.” Read more →
A Father-Son Day
Everyone’s got armbands and 3-D glasses . . . — Elvis Costello Irvine schools are on spring break this week. I took a day off for father-son activities with my boy, age 15. As we were driving back from lunch at Wingstop, I said, “You want to see Monsters vs. Aliens in 3-D IMAX?” “Not particularly,” he said. I’d already decided that I did want to see it so I got off at the Irvine Spectrum exit. “I guess this means we’re going to see it,” he said. “You know what they say: Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time, but regret for the things we didn’t do is inconsolable.” “Oh shut up, Sophocles. It’s a movie for two-year-olds.” “No it isn’t. There’s a giant girl in it. It looks cool.” “I’ll be the combined age of everyone else in the theater.” We got there a… Read more →
Basketball Diary
I was shooting some hoops at the park this afternoon with my boy, sort of guarding him so he could try out some moves. I suggested that when he drives past a defender, he should cut back into him to keep him from reaching out and making a play on the ball. He tried it again but still didn’t cut back into me with enough gusto. The third time, he overcompensated. Before he even got past me, he drove his shoulder into my solar plexus and knocked me off the end of the court. Did I mention he’s the same size as me and a lot younger? Ouch . . . I’m still feeling it right now. Read more →