The visitation

So I had my parents visit this weekend. They drove 13 hours and made the long trek to see me and my family. It was a pleasant visit that refreshed me very much. I was not able to keep up to date with the blog so I am playing catch up.

Family is so important to me. My family has given me strength and helped me through some tough times. I do not want to know where I would be without my wife. My daughters have brought me joy and strength. I am coming up on my 9 year anniversary in marriage. I worked hard on it and am proud of it.

I do not get to see my parents very often anymore. Being a couple hundred miles away makes it difficult to see them more than once a year. When come down it is a special time.

It takes me back to a time of me being younger.

I end up pushing the shopping cart at Walmart.

I find myself laughing at my dad’s “dad jokes” only now with more understanding.

Its family.

and they came to visit.

Hug a pony my friends.

Words and feelings.

I find it harder to help people who don’t care about their fellow person. I find myself more and more in the place of a mindless drone. It is not because I want to act like it, but because you conform to the image that people project on you. Case in point, the following.


I had a father and son come into my store today to make a purchase. I was helping them out and the father stood back to let his son pay. This is a commonplace thing for parents to do to teach their kids about money and finances. I told the son the amount and the son gave me his handful of money.  I counted it out back to him and found he had given me 5 dollars too much. I gave him back the extra and his father jumped on the boy. The father was upset that the child shouldn’t have handed me the money without counting it. He told the boy that if he didn’t watch his money, cashiers would take it. I was shocked. I told the father that I wouldn’t, nor would any of my staff, take the extra money. His response was no better. This father told me that while I probably would not, there could be others that would take the money and pocket it. At this point I almost lost my cool. I had been practically called a thief and told my profession is a thieving profession. This father was teaching his son this, in his actions and his words. I have no problem with being careful, but he was directing his words at me.


It is hard to not be the drone. It is hard to stand and be silent. It is hard to be called names and labels that are not only untrue but hurtful. It is even harder to see the next generation being taught that same hate horrible values. It is hard. Time to go hug a plush pony.