FATHER SON RELATIONSHIPS
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Forty-plus years of resentment and hatred toward my father, and it all disappeared in what my wife described as "a God moment." I always thought my dad would die and I would feel the resentment and hatred until the day I died. But that all changed in a few seconds when I told my dad I loved him -- and actually meant it.
My son discovered the luminous blue bicycle on his fifth Christmas, next to the tree. That cold morning, I led him along living room and dining room circuits as he got the hang of riding on two tires, with a lot of help from training wheels. He was still years away from any possible attempt at the Tour de France...and his only performance-enhancing drug was the exuberance of a little boy.
Once you start this book you will not be able to put it aside. It may burn your fingers but it cannot be dropped. It is compelling reading that awes, repels and entertains all at the same time. It is the book we have been waiting for Iles to write. It has finally arrived and we are all the better for it.
Today is my father's birthday. He would have turned 84 years old today, had he survived beyond the way-too-impossibly-young age of 68. Though it's closing in on two decades since I last shared my day with him, road-tripped with him, or swam with him out to that little sand bar in the Gulf of Mexico, I can still hear his voice.
Adulterers relax. This isn't about you. It's uglier than that. A couple of months ago, just before he turned 8, my boy and I attended something called a Father/Son Getaway. Any sane parent will tell you this is an oxymoron, that "weekend getaway" and offspring are conceits that automatically cancel each other out.