How I Disappointed My Dad

I've talked before about how my step-father raised me. When I talk about my Dad, that's usually the person worthy of that title. My real father is something else. I harbor no ill will to the man, I barely know him. I saw him twice a year, birthday and Christmas, when I was growing up. After I got my license, S.L. only visited my twice. Once when I graduated high school and once for Thanksgiving. Oh, by the way, S.L. isn't some cutesy attempt to hide the man's identity. That's what he goes by. His name is Sammie Lee Cates, everybody calls him S.L.

After I started driving, I had to go visit him. He lives in the Missouri boot heel and when I was in college I drove up for something called "Homecoming," which is just an excuse for everyone to drink and eat goats (you heard me).

We went across the street from where he lives for a beer at the local tavern (which happens to be owned by the Sheriff). After a couple of cold ones, he started in on me about college. "I don't understand why you are even bothering with college. I got drafted, did my time in the Army during the Korean war and then went to work. I didn't need any college."

Like most men that age, I had thought about the armed services. To my thinking, it seemed almost like an obligation, a civic duty and I often felt guilty because I had declined to serve. When S.L. started talking about how when he got drafted, before he shipped out, he gave his car to his best friend and his records to his girl, etc. etc. because he might not be coming back, I started to really feel the guilt. At the time my best friends Dad had been a decorated fighter pilot in the Vietnam war and his step-dad won the Silver Star as an Army Ranger in the same conflict, so I asked S.L. what he did during the Korean war.

He got quiet and then took a swig of Pabst Blue Ribbon. He turned and looked me in the eye and I was bracing myself for some horror story about killing babies.

"I was stationed in D.C., my outfit cooked mess for all of the units shipping out that traveled through there."

I stared at him blankly and then chugged down what was left of my beer in one big gulp. I never let S.L. make me feel guilty about anything after that night.