Treading the Missed Mondays: Dad Genes in my Dad Jeans

Well HEY THERE, Slugger!

You ready to go bump some sports balls around and get some field-touches?

Fortunately for ya boy Bear, my father did not push hopscotch nor competitive go-karting on me as a child (THANKS DAD). He and my mother both merely asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. All I really saw around the house for environmental encouragement though was my mother painting, my brother being a teenager, and my dad working his ass off and playing guitar. Needless to say at 13, I picked up one of those very same guitars and haven’t looked back since.

Anyways, point being that tomorrow my father and I are travelling to see my brother on the coast, and we will have to agree on the musical arrangements; classic rock only.

Here are some of the sweet jams my dad and I will be singing for four hours tomorrow whilst eating beef jerky and telling horrid puns. Music that stands a paragon of a past era, unweathered by time or play.



– Bear

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