Red Letter Day

We interrupt the story from the Alabama woods to recount a snippet of life from the writer.

Today is a red letter day--a mile marker on the road of life.

My youngest son, Kyle, will receive his diploma from Auburn University. He will accomplish this in four years, unusual today in the era of changed majors and "what do I really want to do?" and parents who are able to finance indecision.

He has achieved much, and we are justifiably proud.

His older brother John came by for supper last night. He is a fine young man in his own right. A talented musician and a hard worker, I can honestly say that he has never disappointed me in any way. We think alike, he and I, and often he will say something in social situations before the same words get out of my mouth.

We talked of his brother's big day. I mentioned that it was a big day for me too.

He asked what I meant.

I told him that I was free. I had fulfilled my obligations. I was an old lion who had raised two cubs to become lions themselves--adult lions who were trained and ready to go out into the jungle and make their own way. As such, I was now free. The old lion can now go anywhere and do anything--he is free to to roam the jungle unfettered by responsibility. Adventures await. The old lion will venture out.

The response with immediate: "where he will be promptly pulled down and eaten by hyenas."

That's my boy.