My Daddy can Beat up Your Daddy – The New Olympic Games
My Dad is a big man and has been as long as I’ve known him. He’s not NFL offensive line big or anything like that and he’s only 6’1”. But he’s one of those guys who seems even bigger than he is. When I was young he was, of course, the strongest man in the entire world. I remember that I couldn’t even lift my “Green Machine” pedal car and yet he could pick it up and carry it up stairs with only one hand. In his younger years he had been a real-life, actual lumber jack working in the woods in northern California and the tales of his strength and ferocity from these years were the thing of myth for me and my brothers growing up. We heard stories of car doors ripped off their hinges, forks being stabbed through people’s hands that dared to play at stealing my Dad’s dessert and on and on. In truth, my Dad is not a violent man at all. To my knowledge he has never been in a fist fight since I’ve been alive and I don’t recall hearing any stories from his younger days of actual fights. B...