Expert

I am an expert in most of the things I no longer actively do.

I was reminded of this when we were out having a couple of beers and eating out in Winter Park in a nicer brewery.  There was this 5 year old that was raising hell.  This kid was screaming his head off and the desperate mom was not sure quite how to handle him.  I remember thinking that I would know how to handle that, I would never let my kid do that in a public place.

Flash back to 1994.  A WalMart parking lot on a warm summer day.  I was looking at your angelic sleeping face in the car seat.  You fell asleep in the car a lot and your mom quietly shut the car off and rolled down all the windows.  She said she'd be right back and RAN (yes RAN) into the front entrance of the store.  The minute the automatic doors closed I had a pending sense of doom.  The wind was blowing your long bangs over your forhead and you looked so peaceful.  And then, your eyes opened with a start, and your head rotated a complete 360 degree's and your angelic brow furrowed. 

I knew what to do.  I reached through the open window, unbuckled you from the car seat and almost had you in my arms before you let loose.  You did not cry like a normal kid.  Honestly I do not know how to describe it and give it the right amount of weight.   I was not able to hold you to my chest because of how loud it was.  I pointed you away from me.  You are the only kid I ever knew who actually set off a car alarm (it happened that day).  Picture me the -original Cool Hand Luke -carrying you face out, bathed in sweat and trying every Dad trick in the book to slow you down or get you to breathe.  The Saturday Wal-Mart crowd actually parted and made a path for me up to the front door.  Moses and the Red Sea got nothing on me. 

Your mom heard you before I walked in the door in the back of the store and ran (yes RAN) to the front of the store.  Not for you, she was coming to save me. She simply said your name and held out her arms and the horns went back inside your head and that inhuman howl stopped as abruptly as it started and you smiled at her.  Your mom will never receive sufficient credit for those days.  At the age that you frequently scared the hell out of me, she had nerves of steel, nothing scared her.

We did the walk of shame out of the Wal-Mart (how many people can say they have done that?) and went home without the stuff we came for. 

And 19 years later (give or take) I am the expert.  I can watch another young couple take the walk of shame, secure in the knowledge I would know how to handle that.  I am an expert.

Be careful of experts.  If a person needs to convince you how expert they are, there is a good chance they are those hindsight kind of experts.  Always make the distinction between expertise and experts.  Expertise is the pursuit of excellence.  Experts are guys know everything about the stuff they no longer do.

Call your mom and thank her for all the hell you raised as a kid that you don't remember. 

Love Dad