RaisingDad

 My father is old school.      I mean, really  old school.      I once peeked at his Social Security card and his number was #000-00-0007.      When my beautiful wife and I got him a dog, we got him a dog for two reasons:      1) for company, and      2) because he wanted one.      "You won't have to worry about a thing," he told us like an anxious ten-year-old. " I'll take care of it.      Well, guess who takes care of it?      I mean, besides my beautiful wife.      Me.       I take care of it.      Part of the "taking care" part was having to take the poor pup to be fixed.      My father laughed at that when I told him.      "You don't need to take him to the vet," he told me, enthusiastically rubbing his nose in amusement.  "All you need to do is tie a strin...

as featured in Desert Exposure Magazine desertexposure.com    A few baseball seasons back, I was in my den reading the newspaper, shaking my head at Dear Abby, and enjoying a hot cup of gourmet coffee.    I was listening to my TV’s Blues channel. They were playing Mean Old World, one of my favorite songs. Maybe I like the song so much because I like the title so much. This old world can be pretty mean. You only have to keep up with current events to realize that. This version was by Little Walter and His Night Cats. I prefer T-Bone Walker’s. Maybe I just prefer the name T-Bone.      In a way, the Blues have ruined my appreciation for Rock & Roll. When I first heard certain artists, I thought they were geniuses. Forty years later, when I widened my taste in music to include the likes of Buddy Guy or Z.Z. Hill (Z.Z. Hill. ZZ Top. See the connection?), I realized everything I loved about Rock & Roll was stolen from Blues...