Same as Kidney Stones, It Must Run in the Family!

Like father, like son.

Having an infrequent chat with my father last night (he’s still not forgiven for ditching any sense of “family” he should’ve, by now, had), I realized that, animosity aside, I should really recruit him for roller derby.  It turns out he knows more about it then anyone I’ve ever taken, and he hasn’t seen it since it’s heyday!

“Don’t both teams have like five people out there, and one skates past the others to score points.  And then they can put their hands on their hips to stop?”

Someone give this guy a “Have a question?  Ask me!” sandwich board and seat him with the rest of the romantically mislead geriatrics out there!  (Just far away from me.)  He describes it better than I can!  It’s been thirty years since he’s seen it, it’s been twenty days for me!

And he’s not picking up from me, ‘cuz even before I chose to stop talking to him, I still didn’t talk with him that much!  Most outsiders wouldn’t even be able to tell there was a problem!  He might not even know!

[Sadly, all my excitement here was for nothing. Years after this conversation, and after countless recaps typed on his computer, when I told my father about my (then new) job as the Tampa Bay Roller Derby Examiner, he had no clue what I was talking about. ‘Cuz that’s how my family rolls…]

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