A Note for Father's Day

Every family has traditions, and chasing the ice cream truck is one of ours. My father taught me to do so when I was a kid, and now The Child and I have perfected the art of stalking the frozen treat. So it was no surprise that we spring into action today when we were on the beach at Daytona. The Child heard the truck first, and I spied it coming up the beach lanes towards our Base Camp. I jumped out in front of the van to bring it to a stop, while he went for the backpack to get the money we’d need. And forty-three seconds later, his pace slowed by an arthritic right knee but his enthusiasm undimmed by age, my father came lumbering up the beach.

You know how you have those moments where you wonder how you could ever be related to those people who claim to be your parents? This was not one of those times. There is no question that these three generations of men were united with one goal in mind: To pay the highest price possible for an ice cream on the beach. And because we are men…Rodenberg Men…we did just that.

Happy Father’s Day to one and all.