what we see

during the television broadcast of an nfl playoff game, the camera focused in on the cheerleaders…and so, my son and i focused in on the cheerleaders…then, he spoke…

my son: they must be cold.


me: i reckon so.

[in an instant, forty-five years of living as a man in the world flashed through my mind; when he said that, i scanned through all of the thousands of pieces of social data, experience, and history i had seen and heard over the years (everything i knew)…that led to this very moment–where young women were standing there, in front of the world, in a strip of clothing–so much to say and no words, for my six-year-old son–so, deliberately, i tucked this moment away in my mental files and stacks, in the section called, “father/son conversations“–and thought, we will talk about this again, son, we will talk about this again–and, next time, i will be ready]

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