The Junk Drawer 12

(I’ve moved, please join the conversation at: )

I found the following photo while searching my files for a presentation I gave a number of years ago.  And it took me back…

To say that my son was a fun-loving, high-spirited kid in high school would be an understatement.  I would estimate that I received an average of 3 calls a week from various teachers, school administrators, etc.  If in fact, St. Michael’s Academy did not have to bring in a portable in which to store Beloved Son’s file, they at least had to invest in an extra file cabinet.

Case in point:  His junior year.  From the end of his sophomore year to school picture day the following year, he grew his hair.  The day before school picture day, he and his buddies went to Sports Clips and Beloved Son asked for a mullet.

While all of his friends did not join him in his bold hair statement, they all joined him in wearing the shirt pictured here (one guy put it on, got his picture taken, took the shirt off and gave it to the next guy).  They all did the “bad ass stare” pictured here.

Weeks later when the photo packet arrived, I got a call from the school saying that Beloved Son, along with all of his buddies were being required to pose for retakes and would I please advise him to take it seriously.  There would be no refund on the mullet/redundant shirt packet.

A year later, I received a letter from the school that basically said that purchasing space in the yearbook would be a nice gesture of love for my graduating son.  Did my love equal a full page?  Or was mine a weak, ambivalent love that could be expressed in the limited space of a half page or a quarter page?

So I rummaged through some drawers, found the mullet shot, had a friend drop in the surrounding photos and my little poem – and scratched out a check for the full color, full page remembrance.

Then I waited for the offending photo and check to be returned.  Guess what?  When accompanied by a hefty check, a mullet and a bad ass stare are no longer so objectionable.

It made the yearbook.  Money changes everything (and I guess the acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree.)