Let me delight you with a story.
Remember high school? Oh man, that was a silly, awkward, weird time. Now imagine high school in a small school when your father is the principal. Now imagine that he is a generally quite loud and a “dad joke” kind of individual.
My freshman year of high school I had a pretty good friend, Sean. I say “pretty good” not because he was a sub-par friend but because we weren’t super close yet.*
We were all in pep band and one winter evening we were playing at a basketball game. Naturally we played during half time, but had the third quarter off to frolic around, eat snacks and engage in mischief.
This particular night, Sean and I decided to go outside into the chill and have a snowball fight. It was all fun and games until my father, who, let’s remember, was the principal of our school and who Sean did not know very well at this point, and who was also sitting in his office which looked out on the location of our impromptu snowball fight, decided to cut in.
The PA system to the parking lot and front lawn buzzed, clicked and then I heard a stern “Sean LastName and Rebecca LastName, please report to the principal’s office.” Sean looked horrified.
Perhaps I should also mention that while my father is the happy-go-lucky sort, when he puts on his angry face the world is a bad place for you. I should also add that he’s over 6’3″ and looks a bit like the Cheshire Cat as a lumberjack.
“Sean, I would like to know what exactly you thought you were doing putting snow down my only daughter’s shirt” he said. Sean began sweating bullets and looking like he wasn’t sure whether to cry or wet himself.
“I-uh-well, we were just messing around, it was just a game,” he finally responded.
“Just a game,” my father echoed. “And I suppose all of this is just a game; your education, your life. Just a game,”
I held my breath to avoid laughing. I’d known my father long enough to know when he was messing with students, Sean hadn’t.
“I’m…I’m really sorry…” Sean added, clearly waiting for a punishment. My father only stared at him. The silence bent and broke as I blurted out,
“Ok, can we go?”
Sean looked horrified but my father nodded, not taking his eyes off Sean as we walked out the door. It was at least three years before Sean stopped flinching when my father spoke directly to him.
So now, let me ask you all a small favor. Sean is, along with being a hilariously weird goofball, an amazing artist and creative mind. He’s running a campaign on idiegogo currently to cover the costs of making a short film about “a socially inept serial killer who tries to befriend his next door neighbor.”
I don’t know about you, but that sounds like solid gold to me.
He’s still a little short of the dream and could use any help you can give. And I’ll do you one better than the rewards on the indiegogo site:
For every $10 donation one of you gives I will tell you an embarrassing story about him. Because for every act of kindness their should be equal embarrassment.
*However, Sean, Jess and I had started having weekly movie nights and growing a lifelong friendship. More on that lovely friendship in this post