Oh to be Houdini Right Now, or Inebriated

What a predicament. I finished work at 5 p.m. and there were still three-and-a-half hours of daylight and the surf was going off at the beach with a 4-5 foot swell, offshore winds and glorious sunshine. But we had a school event – a three-hour festival of plays directed by zealous teachers and starring our children. We drove to the school, the kids in costume – my daughter a doll and son a big ball. Fastidious mothers done up in their best outfits flapped around tying up loose ends on costumes and giving extra kisses to their budding stars. “My son’s costume came out great,” one mother said, beaming with her son dressed as a robot at her side. “What do you think? I mean, I didn’t have much time, what with working all day. But it really came out great.” Fathers stepped over each other for the best camera angles of the stage. We watched from a corner, our son at our side. He wasn’t going on stage for anything. He ignored the teachers’ pleas for participation and ran up and down a path as a ball and stopped to pick up pinecones and throw them in a pile, having a wonderful time. Our daughter acted (brilliantly, of course). But the scene became claustrophobic and I kept thinking the surf, the surf. I can’t escape, can I? My wife looked at me and said she sure could use a stiff drink.

Yet…

This is what makes memories.

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