I got a thank you note the other day. It was for a college graduation gift. I gave the young man a neon bar sign of his college’s mascot. So yeah, it was a pretty awesome gift. And, following protocol, he sent a Thank You.
When my son was a senior in high school he’d chosen his college and picked the dorm. All that was left was the roommate.
I went to school conferences today. For the last time.
I’ve been going to conferences since my oldest was in preschool, squeezing my derriere into those tiny little toddler chairs. I’d listen attentively to the teacher telling me my oldest son was developing strong pre-reading skills or that he liked the science station.
My son was in Guatemala last month doing volunteer work. He worked with some other young people, all women. The group, seven total, took a weekend trip to Tikal, an ancient Mayan city in the northern part of the country.
The tour guide and my son became fast friends that weekend, bonding both as the only males and the only Spanish speakers. One evening, my son tried to convince the rest of the group to take an additional tour - a night hike through the jungle, I think.
None of the women were interested. The tour guide listened as my son pled his case, with no success. With the matter settled the guide turned to my son and said - in Spanish, “In Guatemala, the man always gets the last word.”
My son tells me he was trying to think through an answer to that when the man finished. "The man always gets the last word -- yes, my love."
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