Wednesday, September 22, 2004

Old McDaddy

They say you're getting old when you begin to enjoy the company of children, or such chores as feeding chickens, more than you do making money. I see my Dad feeding chickens and I can feel his smile from where I'm lying down-- in the living area, a good ten paces from our backyard-- and I know this piece of urbanite folk wisdom is true.

I'm not that old, --I'm still young enough to be ambitious-- but I'm happy that Dad gets his kicks from simple things. They don't cost him much and they serve to keep him young. Of course, this means I get to wake up to the odd goings-on in the family abode. Like livestock running loose in the dining room, a dog and cat sharing the master's bed, a myna that must have worked in a call center in its previous human incranation.

At least, his simple pleasures don't involve unhealthy doses of women, wine or (thank God!) videoke.

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