Okay, okay...Father's Day got to me...

Okay...my compulsive sense of humor usually keeps me from getting all mushy. And Bagman helps by keeping me kind of wild and lusty and Butler helps by keeping me kind of proper and rigid. And I once wrote a blog about crying that I can't easily find now or I might link it.

And I was in a crappy mood this weekend anyway and woke up Sunday just wanting to kind of get it all over with. But I put on a good front when my son, Brian, his wife Melody, and grandson Conner showed up. The plan was for Karen and Melody to cook breakfast for me and Brian.

Yeah, yeah...Father's Day...that's the usual plan. And then they showed up with the biggest card I'd ever seen that they had made for me. Melody had done the artwork on the front and there on the inside were Brian's handprints!

Now this doesn't show the scale. But it was adorable. I looked a little tonight through old scrapbooks because everyone who has ever raised kids has had at least one card or paper sent home from kindergarten or church school with those cute, tiny fingerpaint handprints...and I know we have some of Brian when he was four or five or six and although I couldn't easily locate them, they could probably fit in one his current, big old meaty thumbs.

Big as they were -- suddenly he was my little boy again. And then I read the message he had written on the right side of the card...


...and you can't read it all in the photograph but if you look, you can get the gist...and I don't have the emotional stamina to transcribe here. I don't think a tear actually squeezed out -- because that's me, dammit -- but when I looked up at the faces of Brian, Melody, and Karen -- it looked like they were all preparing to catch me if I fainted so something must have been showing.

And Brian was holding Conner...and I just pray that someday years from now...Brian's going to get the same affirmation of his life that Brian gave me.

BAGMAN: Get a grip, Mark! Don't get all mushy now!

And we went to the pool and after they left, Karen and I ate a pie that Melody had made with incredible thoughtfulness...inventing it with chocolate, more chocolate, chocolate chips, just a little peanut butter (because she knows me well), and more chocolate! I'm sorry that Blogspot hasn't developed the technology yet to allow me to upload taste. It was so good that it almost negates the idea that it's the thought that counts. Because the thought was incredibly sweet.

But, in all honesty, the taste was pretty sweet too! It might be a toss-up.

Anyhow...one amazing, powerful, wonderful Father's Day for this old fart.

And stay tuned because after next Saturday I might not be blogging as much because we're getting a visit from Jean, my daughter from an earlier life who has somehow found the courage to reconnect with me. Last time I saw her she was maybe 10 years old or so. She is now 32.

BAGMAN: Oh no! Not more mush! Can't we at least find some time to make off-color remarks?