Equal Time

The picture above was screen grabbed off a photojournalist's page and his exploration of Equality. Having spent time as a short order cook as well as an apprentice at a fancy French restaurant, it spoke to me.

There were other fascinating juxtapositions, but you can check them out after you finish reading today's piece, which is, if you haven't guessed about equality.

In September I dropped my older daughter off at the University of Washington. And last year I wrote several posts about the journey to college and all its incumbent emotional adventures.

I would be remiss as a father, and in violation of the Sibling Act 19:31 A/b 432, if I didn't give equal time to my youngest daughter who will be flying the coop next September. Leaving me two empty rooms in the house and ample space to expand my collection of Caganers.

             

(Thanks to Kelly Fitzpatrick for bringing this one back from Spain)

It's still early in the process, but Abby has already received acceptance letters from the University of Arizona and the University of Colorado. The rejection letters are still to come, but you can imagine the relief, we, my wife and I, experienced with the first two positive responses.

Particularly since my youngest is given to drama and, with the slightest provocation, can throw a tantrum like a 5 year old who has just dropped his lollipop in the doggie doo.

I know some of you with fatter wallets and better breeding have already got your noses pointed towards Pluto. Arizona and Colorado?

"Those are hardly Ivy League Schools. What's she gonna major in Beer Bongs and Hemp?"

And that's fine, because here at the Siegel household we don't put on airs. And we're not particularly fond of labels. Or anything remotely to do with status. If the converse were true, we'd be in a lot of trouble.

I'm told my alma mater, Syracuse University, has cache in the world of communication and advertising, but now that I've been around the block a few times and know the industry for what it is, I find that rather embarrassing.

So yes, I'm proud of my daughter.

Earlier this year she had been failing an Honors Pre-Calculus Class. She stubbornly refused to ask for help. Then we had a sit down with the math teacher, who laid out a path to success that would require some hard work and determination. Well, the pit bull doesn't fall far from the apple tree. On her most recent midterm she scored a 97.

We also found out from her English teacher that my little girl is quite the writer. "Dark, brooding and funny," said her English teacher.

This news is both troubling and exciting.

On the one hand I know how hard it is to turn a dime into a dollar using nothing but the imagination and a computer keyboard. On the other hand, who's to say my daughter wouldn't surpass me as America's 7,934th best copywriter. After all she has been given a gift. A leg up. And should she decide to be a writer she has in her toolbox an invaluable asset that I never had. A bottomless well of comedic inspiration and divine dysfunction.

She went to Catholic High School.