Sometimes I wonder what it was like to be my dad when he was growing up. Sometimes I convince myself that something terrible must've happened to him, perhaps multiple terrible somethings, for him to be as afraid of everything as he is today. To be as blind to his internal contradictions as he always has been.
He shared a story with us today, something that happened when he was close to my age. He owned and operated his father's ice plant back then, and one of the guys working for him was apparently very much against eating pork. One day, they were sitting around a fire, and the guy was going off on a rant about how terrible pork was. Pork is unfit for human consumption, he proclaimed, as he roasted a hot sausage link over the fire. My dad and the other employees got a kick out of it.
I asked him if anyone'd had the nerve to break it to the guy that he was about to eat pork for dinner. No, he told me, We figured we'd just let him figure that one out himself.
He shared a story with us today, something that happened when he was close to my age. He owned and operated his father's ice plant back then, and one of the guys working for him was apparently very much against eating pork. One day, they were sitting around a fire, and the guy was going off on a rant about how terrible pork was. Pork is unfit for human consumption, he proclaimed, as he roasted a hot sausage link over the fire. My dad and the other employees got a kick out of it.
I asked him if anyone'd had the nerve to break it to the guy that he was about to eat pork for dinner. No, he told me, We figured we'd just let him figure that one out himself.
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