It’s almost like driving your really heavy armored limo on fresh sealant and then dumping thousands of gallons of hydrogen peroxide in the pool was a bad idea.
The Lessons I Learned from My Dad
I am not the man my father is.
I am trying. Some days closer. Some days farther.
He never sat me down and explained these lessons. He lived them. I’m still learning them.
Show up.
The kitchen table. The hospital room. The funeral. The picket line. The call from the son who won’t answer.
Show up.
Most days that’s the whole job.
My whole life I watched him do it. Not for cameras. Not for headlines. Not because there was something in it for him. He showed up because someone needed him.
I learned that grief doesn’t make you special.
My father buried a wife and daughter. He buried a son. Yet he never treated grief as a claim on other people’s sympathy. Instead, it made him notice theirs.
A mother who lost a child. A father sitting beside a hospital bed. A kid scared about what comes next. A son who lost his mother, his sister, his brother.
He always noticed.
I learned that power is not the point.
The people who chase power eventually confuse the office with themselves.
My father never did.
Whether he was a county councilman, a senator, vice president, or president, he was the same man.
The title changed.
He didn’t.
I learned that family comes first.
The train from Wilmington wasn’t symbolism.
It was every night.
He read to us. Showed up to games. Sat through hospital rooms. Waited up for children who were lost.
And when the day came that the country and the family could not both have him at full strength, he chose family. He relinquished the last chapter of how he wanted to be remembered. And he never complained about it.
Most of all, I learned that love is not soft.
Love is discipline.
Love is showing up at one in the morning when nobody is watching.
Love is answering the phone.
Love is staying.
Love is getting back up after life knocks you down and doing it all again tomorrow.
That love saved my life.
I’ve failed at many of these lessons, sometimes in very public ways.
He loved me anyway.
That’s the last lesson.
I am not trying to become my father.
I am trying to carry what he gave me.
And if I can do that, even imperfectly, that will be enough.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I love you.
Boston's statues are getting a World Cup makeover, with Scottish fans have been placing traffic cones on top of statues across the city, continuing a Glasgow tradition that dates back to the 1980s.
The Boston Globe has dedicated a full page in today's edition to the Tartan Army 🏴 🇺🇸
The letter in Boston's largest newspaper reads: "Dear Tartan Army,
"You came for the World Cup, but gave us something more.
"For a week, you turned train stations into singalongs, Fenway into a football ground, and an ordinary June into something we'll be talking about for years.
"Boston has hosted championships, parades, and celebrations of every kind. But we've never hosted guests quite like you all.
"Thank you for the laughter, the bagpipes and the memories. The World Cup will move on. So will the songs, but we'll never forget the joy you brought to our city."
𝘐𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 @SPARScotland
𝘐𝘔𝘈𝘎𝘌: 𝘕𝘦𝘸𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵
Susie Wiles~ mom of 2 kids
JD Vance~ dad of 3½ kids
Todd Blanche~ dad of 2 kids
Karoline Leavitt~ mom of 2 kids
Kash Patel~ dad of 1 kid
👇 These parents turned the Situation Room into the Trump-Epstein Pedophile COVER-UP Room
They PROTECTED pedophiles over the safety of kids