This is the time of year when many parents are bursting with pride.
Many, like us, have graduating high school seniors about to trek off to college. And naturally with the advent of Facebook, we wear those college acceptances like badges of honor.
It has even created its own faux pecking order.
"My son is going to Yale."
"Well my daughter is going to Bard."
"It's Santa Monica College for my son, but he's in the honors program."
I'm just as guilty of the rest and have boasted about Rachel's new journey to the University of Washington.
But here's the thing. It's all so meaningless.
In the real world, where you went to college or didn't go to college, matters not. In all my years of advertising, no one Creative Director has ever asked about Syracuse University, one of the premier schools in Communication. Not one.
But today, I am proud for different reason. Last Sunday, my 18 year old daughter fell. And in the vernacular of the agency where I am currently employed, she slew her Goliath.
You see, my daughter did what neither my wife and I could never imagine doing -- she fell from a plane. 10,000 feet high above Lake Elsinore in Eastern Riverside County.
She and her two good friends woke up on a Sunday morning, drove 90 minutes into the scorching Inland Empire, climbed aboard a flimsy prop plane, strapped themselves to some strapping young guys who relished the opportunity to introduce 3 pretty girls into the 2 mile high club, and then...jumped.
Maybe you're wondering if I'm embellishing or even making up the story. I'm not. And I have the proof.
In fact, I'll recreate the hair-raising experience using the novelty of the scroll function. I hope you'll be as relieved as I was when she finally returned to terra firma.