An Open Letter to NC

Dear North Carolina,

I feel like I don't even know you. Sure, we've only met a few times - mostly through Steve - but I thought you were cool and carefree. I thought you were fun and hip. Doesn't Zach Galifianakis own a farm with you?

I remember there was that donut place, that beautiful park, and all that lovely furniture.

We hung out at the beach...

We had BBQ together. It was so good!

I thought, well, I don't know what I thought.

Although now that I think about it, I remember going to that flea market and seeing all those racist ashtrays. That was weird. That was kind of disturbing actually. And those pickups in the parking lot with their gun racks... Unsettling if you want to know the truth.

Amendment 1? Seriously? You're that lame and square? You're that uptight? That uncool?

Really, Raleigh?

You're homophobia is totally showing. It's embarrassing.

I'm not trying to get all dramatic here, but doesn't that just fan the flames of hate? By default? I mean what about people who are gay? Can you even imagine how they feel? How are they supposed - oh, wait. Right. That's what this is about.

I thought you were better than that. I really did. I might expect this from South Carolina, but not you.

I don't know. This is weird. I feel like we can't even be friends. I don't even want to make eye contact.

Honestly, this is very awkward. And disappointing. I think it's best we don't see each other for awhile. And in the meantime, I need you think about this.

I never thought I'd say this, but I wish you were more like Maryland.

Music Identification, or Proud Papa Moment

So it's a typical Sunday and we're pulling into Target. The radio is on and Pam and I are talking about what we need to get.

"Chobani, wipes, paper towels..."

A little voice pops out of the backseat.

"What's Simon and Garfunkel doing?"

I look at the radio display, which she cannot see - nor read for that matter.

"Um, they're doing The Boxer, sweetheart."

"I love Simon and Garfunkel."

Sponges. Everyone says kids are sponges. I'm going to suggest they are actually brain coral.

What floored me is that S&G is not part of any regular playlists. Maybe they pop up when we have an oldies dance party via digital music on cable. I'm sure I've pointed them out when Nola looks up at the tv and asks, "Who that?" It's just a photo, but I give a name to the short one and the tall one. But that's it. I don't go into their Greenwich Village to Central Park VH1 Behind the Music biography...

Here in the back of the car Nola was able to just hear the music and put it all together. She's only two. I think it took me till I was fifteen.

Sure, I know what you're thinking - the man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest... But you can ask Pam. It happened. And made daddy very proud...

Attagirl!