The Budget of Paradox

Sophia, It’s the last Friday in May. I think today was your last day of school. Your last day of school before high school. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.

I thought of something today I hadn’t thought of in a long time. There was a short period of my life, maybe from age 11 to 14, when my father would take me out to lunch on my last day of school. For a while, it was a bit of a tradition. School was dismissed early on the last day, probably about 1:30 or so. He would take me to this little restaurant called Texas Hots (of course, this was in upstate New York; “Texas hot” is a kind of hot dog). The restaurant isn’t there anymore. Sometimes I go look at my old hometown on Google Maps. The building is boarded-up and abandoned now.

I don’t have any photos of the place. Back then, of course, we didn’t have cell phones. Today, people easily take pictures of everything. I even looked on the internet and there’s not a single photo of the restaurant. It’s kinda sad. It was someone’s hard work and dream, and now, there’s scarcely any evidence it ever existed.

Texas Hots only sold hot dogs and hamburgers and french fries, stuff like that. The kind of place where the menu is on a big board made up of little moveable letters. The owner was this funny fat guy named Carl. I liked him because he didn’t seem to take anything in life too seriously. He just liked to cook hamburgers. Nothing bothered him.

Honestly, the place was kinda dumpy. Not really the place for a celebration. But I treasure those memories with my dad. My sister and my mom weren’t there. It was just my dad and me.

That feeling… the feeling of spring turning to summer, of school ending and the start of three months of freedom, it was intoxicating. The summer was always filled with so many possibilities. Suddenly, all at once, I was staying up late, always outdoors, always with my friends. It was a glorious time. That kick-off lunch at Texas Hots was always welcome. My father rarely told me he loved me or was proud of me. But I think those lunches were his way of acknowledging my success in the world as a child. It wasn’t the french fries I remember; it was the time with my dad.

Later, after my dad stopped taking me there, I would go there with my friends on the last day of high school for 10th and 11th grade. I could drive myself at that point. Thinking back, I really can’t remember my last day of school in 12th grade. I forgot that day completely. I had other things on my mind (another story for another day). I wonder what I did that day.

I’m sorry I wasn’t with you today. I was there in spirit. And we had our own Texas Hots, sort of, whatever that could have been, wherever that is.

I am proud of you, kid. And I love you.

Have you ever been to my YouTube channel? Yes, there are videos there from me. But there are also some playlists. Playlists are lists of videos I’ve picked out. They’re not mine, just my picks. Anyway, I’m listening to a Playlist I made called “Bleeding Out In A Warm Bath”. Sorry for the depressing title, but it’s a collection of songs I listen to at night when I’m alone with my thoughts. These aren’t the kinds of songs you want to listen to while driving around. It’s more like late-night background deep thinking music. I’m listening right now as I type this. Maybe you’ll listen some night when you’re lonely or anxious or afraid, and learn to just let it go.

https://www.youtube. … becker8192/playlists