It’s summer. It’s Father’s Day. Go buy your dad a beer.
This is the man who managed to land your mom (and your mom was pretty hot back in the day).
If you were a legacy, this guy walked in your footsteps long before. He crushed beers where you crush beers, he carved his name in the rafters of all your rooms, and one of his old Pamela Anderson posters is still hanging downstairs. He serenaded sorority girls, hazed pledges, and pulled all kinds of stupid shit he never told you about. When you have to go before “That One Old Dean” for “That Incident,” the wrinkled gasbag takes one look at your last name and sighs knowingly.
Your dad has stories even your mom doesn’t know about (because they didn’t meet until junior year). Every time he and his old pledge bros get together they rack up bar tabs totaling thousands of dollars. These guys can afford it. They came out of college and made something of themselves. But there’s still a little glimmer of the hell they used to raise. Dad’s Weekend is proof that these old guys can still party hard, even though sometimes you get a brigadier general passed out under the pool table in his own puke.
But more than anything else, this is the man who taught you how to fish, how to play ball. Who shot you the secret looks of approval when you got in trouble as a kid and high-fived you when you got back from your date with the Swedish exchange student three hours late. This is the man that made you the blood-thumping, straight-chugging fraternal powerhouse you are today.
So tell pops to gas up the Porsche, drive to the nearest bar, and crack a open a few beers. When you’re there, ask him to tell you about his life, if there’s anything you haven’t heard yet.
More than likely he’ll smile, take a long drink, and say, “Well son, I don’t recommend this, but there was this one time back in the fraternity…”.