Last summer I wrote a blog post called An Open Letter to Mitch Garver of the Minnesota Twins. It’s about Silas, my 7-year-old son, and his obsession with the major league baseball player.
Reflections on my upbringing, fatherhood, and trying to be a better person.
I was 12, a Peewee hockey player on the A team. Honestly, though, I sat the bench a lot that year. I was one of the younger kids. We didn’t have enough players for a B team, otherwise I would have been on it. It’s not that I was a terrible player. It’s just that …
I used to watch my dad carve the turkey. He had one of those electric knives that looks like a mini hedge trimmer. I can’t wait to do that someday, I thought to myself.
Sunday morning church service. I am 15 and it’s my performance debut. Pastor Joe prays before the offering is received. Upon “amen” I’m supposed to start a picking pattern on my acoustic guitar that will accompany my sisters singing.