Friday, January 13, 2006
I think I found a great gift for my Dad. One of my favorite stories is from when he and my step-mom were moving in the mid-90s. There were a few things that they left for last, to be carefully moved in the car. On the last trip my Dad starts coming out of the house will all of these rifles to put in the trunk of his Caddy. My step-mom looks at him and teases, "Honey, I thought you were a pacifist!" Without batting an eyelash he gives her a long, sad look and says, "That's why you don't piss off a pacifist!"
Not only is the phrase "Militant Pacifist" great for him, I thought that the natural fiber tote bag screams "liberal" in a way that few things can.
Oh, and the rifles? They were my grandfather's and great-grandfather's from back when they lived out in the country and hunted for dinner. My grandfather was an award winning turkey hunter and we have the newspaper clippings to prove it. One of my other favorite stories about my Dad (which I heard from my Mom) was the day he sighted a deer and realized that he just couldn't kill it, never to hunt again.