They all turned out all right, those three boys, but the youngest, Freddy, impressed me the other day. He invited one of my brothers and us to a dinner at his house, and his wife, Paula, prepared the reception. He’s now a multiple employer: He just hired Amos, an Amish man from his supplier, and Amos is learning how to handle the electronically based clientele that deals with Freddy.
As we ate our dinner, I choked on an unchewed piece, and my son said, “That does it. Dad, you have to get your teeth looked at. Every time we have dinner, you choke. I’ll pay the dentist bill.” I looked at him. He was a real Pater Familiae (I still remember some of my high school Latin), the role I once had. I have to get used to these changes.
I thank God.