With father's day approaching, it's starting to happen again. People don't mean to, but they make comments or ask questions and it's always a wee bit awkward. And then sometimes, people step right in it.
I'm not a fan of publicly shaming your kid. I had enough of that when I was young, and it didn't teach me anything other than to distrust the adult who'd done it. So today, when a young fellow turned to his father and disagreed with him - not disobeyed, mind, just disagreed - the father turned to me, apologized for the kid's behavior (seriously, the kid was just disagreeing!) and said, "do you talk to your father this way?"
I said, "No. He's dead."
I might have enjoyed the look on his face more than I should have. Sometimes, I'm no saint. I really feel for folks who have lost a treasured parent during the whole Mother's Day/Father's Day months.
"Rick's Greasy (S)poon," by Hank Edwards
The next tale in The Dirty Diner is one about fathers, and sons, and legacies. I will admit here that even my stone cold familial agnostic eyes got a bit misty during this story, which is about Dave, a young man who returns to run his father's diner after his father passes away. He's got the desire, but maybe not the talent, and there's so much work to be done that it's not looking likely - not to mention he doesn't have any of his father's recipes.
But help arrives in the form of a supplier of local produce who definitely feeds more than one of Dave's appetites. The follow through of this story is tender in places even as it smoulders with Hank Edwards' usual sexy style, and I found myself smiling at the resolution of the problems Dave faced. Especially the ones with the produce supplier.
Oh, and fine. The stuff with his dad, too. That was nice. Just a second. Got some dust in my eye.
(A gentle reminder that this anthology is still currently on sale for 99 cents in e-book form, and if you click it through the link a few paragraphs above, you also send a wee bit of that price to Murder by the Book.)