When I was in tenth grade I dated a boy named Jim.  We had a mutual friend named Lane.  We all had houses at Pickwick Lake and one weekend they came over to my house to ski.  

Jim showed up at Lane’s with a T shirt that said, “I Was Born Horny”. Lane suggested to Jim that he at least turn his shirt inside out before coming to my house to meet my dad, but he didn’t see the need. I’m not sure Dad noticed the shirt or if he did, he didn’t say anything.  Dad had a sophomoric sense of humor, so he may have thought it was funny.

Jim, Lane and I took our ski boat out for the day.  Pickwick Lake was formed when the Tennessee Valley Authority damned the Tennessee River in the 1930’s.  It has a lot of old tree stumps in various parts and can be tricky to navigate.  Lane drove while I skied and we hit one of those stumps, knocking a hole in the boat. We somehow made it back home to our dock. Lane was worried about telling his father, Big Ben, what had happened.  We called him Big Ben, but not to his face. My Dad assured him that it would be okay. It could happen to anyone and he offered to go over to Lane’s house to talk to his father and smooth things over.

We piled into our cars and headed over to the Carrick’s. When Mr. Carrick saw all of us, he assumed the worst. He was not happy with my dad for running interference for Lane until he realized that it was our boat, not his, that had the hole in it.  Things got tense for a moment, but once the details were cleared up and Lane was safe, we went home.

I ran into Lane at our 35th high school reunion and we reminisced about that day. Afterwards, when I got back home, I told Dad about seeing Lane. Without missing a beat, he said, “you remember that time his dad jumped down my throat when Lane knocked a hole in our boat.  It really could have happened to anyone.”

And that’s the way my Dad was. He didn’t sweat the small stuff and it was all small stuff.