Eight or so years ago, he came to my team as a part-time intern when he was in high school, as part of a program that matched minority students with STEM talents to companies for technical internships. He expressed an interest in cyber security, so I became a mentor to him. Over the years, we discovered almost every day, another area we shared an interest in; everything from shooting sports to good cigars to old Toyotas to politics. He even lives in my old neighborhood. Wife’s theory is that 25 years ago, someone stole my DNA, took it back to Saigon, and created him in a lab.
Last year, he unexpectedly came out to the house on Father’s Day, with a handful of my favorite cigars, a few cans of my favorite chicory coffee, and a Father’s Day card, bearing a note thanking me for being his American Dad, and making him the man he’s become. Yes, I shed a tear. So after 35 years, I adopted a son, or, we adopted each other. His girlfriend loves Wife and me, and the boy’s parents love it because I’m teaching him and his brother things they can’t, about firearms, IT stuff, and just being an American man.
So since then, we’ve spent most weekends either on the sporting clays course, or the ranges at my rod & gun club, where he has also applied for membership; often these are followed by he and his girlfriend staying for dinner with me and Wife. His girl is getting pretty good with a pistol, too!
It’s a weird and wonderful story, and frankly I never knew I missed having a son until he showed up. Now tell me this ain’t my kid:
