Yesterday, I was recounting how land ownership is determined by the size of a parcel and the price point that plats are bought and sold. Then I proceeded to describe how there are many homes on one acre or less, some private owners with huge tracts of land but there are huge tracts of land held by state agencies and federal agencies. That there is little rhyme or reason to the allocation of this most fundamental mean of production. Yet, the government still sits on massive swaths of land.
“Yeah. You’ve told me this before,” is how my oldest responded while smiling.
Last month, they told me, “Really?” after I’d shared how another man (one with no children, if that connotes better sense of style or more disheveled, in your opinion) had complimented my wardrobe, adding on that he’d previously noted my sense of style.
There was genuine surprise. Fortunately, in that moment, I found that exchange to be hilarious, maybe even endearing. It was certainly a reminder that what I’m doing is regularly bewildering to my progeny, if not repulsive.
Ahh, the humilities of fatherhood.
washing dishes: a father’s glimpses 