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Lost & Found

Lost: Diamond set in gold mounting prongs, fell off my wife's wedding ring, in Floresville, reward offered. 210-867-1319.
Lost: Small black female dog, no collar, her name is Shortcake, has long hair, Sutherland Springs area. Call 830-391-5099.
If you are missing a pet in Floresville, be sure to check the Floresville holding facility. Animals are only kept for 3 days. Contact Las Lomas K-9 Rescue, 830-581-8041.
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Help Wanted

The Wilson County Appraisal District is accepting applications and/or resumes for an entry level Field Appraiser position. Responsibilities include office and field work associated with the appraisal of all types of properties. Applicants must be willing to complete the requirements to obtain an RPA designation through the Texas Department of Licensing and Regulation. Interested applicants must have reliable transportation, a valid Texas driver's license, and proof of liability insurance. Send resumes and/or applications to: Wilson County Appraisal District, Attn: Field Appraiser Position, 1611 Railroad Street, Floresville, Texas 78114.
Busy Optometry office is hiring for full-time position, experience preferred, but not necessary, will train right person, 495 10th St., Ste. 105, Floresville. Email resumes to hcvcjobs@yahoo.com.
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Keeping the Faith


Keeping the Faith: Thanks Dad for Wising Up




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Disclaimer:
Ronnie McBrayer is responsible for this content, which is not edited by the Wilson County News or wilsoncountynews.com.
June 28, 2013 | 1361 views | Post a comment

Ronnie McBrayer

# # #

I’m writing this article while sitting in my father’s chair. You know the chair of which I speak. It is that ratty old recliner that occupies the living room, den, or man-cave that no guest or other family member is ever allowed access. It belongs exclusively to my father.
So, how did I plant my butt in such an honored chair? Simple: It’s the best seat in the house, and my father isn’t here right now. While the master is away, I will occupy the throne; it is good to be king, if only for a few hours.
When I was a kid I really thought my father was a king, and not just because of his chair. I looked up to him as if he were a superhero who could leap tall buildings with a single bound, bend steel bars with his bare hands, catch bullets in his teeth, and defeat all of his arch enemies.
With hands the size of pot roasts and the strength of an ox, I was amazed at how he could lift me above his head, how fast he could run, and how there was nothing he could not do. “My daddy can beat up your daddy,” was a routine phrase on my lips.
And smart? Lord, yes, he was smart. He seemed to understand or know everything! He could do pre-algebra in his head and long division without picking up a pencil; he could read the hardest words, fix anything broken, and solve any problem. He might as well have been a king.
But as I got older, as a teenager, I discovered my father was growing remarkably stupid. In just a few short years, somehow, he became a backward, bumbling simpleton with not a clue to how the world really worked.
He offered inane advice on everything from money and education to automobiles and the opposite sex. He set ridiculous boundaries in regard to my time, work, school, and friends. A few times he even dared to critique or forbid my well-made decisions. What an idiot.
Then, in my twenties, my father must have returned to school or started taking smart pills. His counsel improved dramatically -- almost overnight. His words were far sounder than I could ever remember. It was obvious an old dog could learn new tricks. I was so proud of him.
And now, with growing children of my own, my father practically has a PhD. No, he’s not as big and strong as he once was, but he is absolutely brilliant, even smarter than before. His intellectual turnaround has been miraculous.
But what bothers me is the fact that I am my father’s son. See, I get more like him every day: The cadence of my voice, my mannerisms, the gray in my beard, my dietary habits, my elevated cholesterol. So I fear I too will have a mid-life plunge into idiocy.
I don’t have a “chair” at home, but today my children look upon me with something akin to worship, as I looked upon my father. Tomorrow they will despise my advice, my words, and the limitations I place upon them because my IQ will have shrunk down to nothing as their own rises to near Einstein levels.
I know it is coming. I can feel it. Sometimes, just by the way my children look at me, or how they question my judgment, or when they angrily resist me, I can tell I’m getting dumber. I “just don’t understand.” I don’t “get it.” I’m standing in the way of their good time. It is all sure to get worse before it gets better.
But hopefully, after a decade or so on the dark side, my mental capacities will improve as my own father’s did. Maybe then I won’t be such a bonehead, and my children will find me worth listening to again.
It’s really too bad that we fathers take these short trips into stupidity when our children are at such vulnerable junctions in their lives. They sure could use a little help.
Ronnie McBrayer is a syndicated columnist, speaker, and author of multiple books. You can read more and receive regular e-columns in your inbox at www.ronniemcbrayer.me.
 
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