Hubris
By: Richard J. Chapel / Wayne L. Hubris
Pull up a chair. Hubris is here.
Listen, right now I'd tell you about how I almost won the Daytona
500, but
when I told your father, he said never to discuss it with you.
Because I
respect your father, the story will have to wait.
So your father, your Uncle Jay and I were having a few drinks the
other
night. God bless your Uncle Jay, he serves a fine glass of
whiskey. Anyway,
your father and I were knocking a few of those back. And I was
entertaining
the both of them, reliving great moments from my racing days. As
usual I had
them both on the edge of their seats, when the alcohol started
making your
father drowsy.
I should tell you at this point that I mean no disrespect toward
your father
in telling you this, but he passed out cold on the concrete floor
of your
garage. In fact, he fell out of his folding chair, and his head
somehow
ended up sort of beneath his handsome '68 Corvette. Your Uncle
Jay and I
might have been concerned, but frankly, your father does this a
lot. Again,
I respect the man and I know you respect him equally if not more
so.
Jay thought it would be kind of funny to dress your father up in
your
mother's clothes. I have to admit that Jay sure was right about
that one. It
was funny. It was damn funny. Unfortunately, we did get oil
stains on some
of her garments that your mother has apparently been unable to
remove. And
your father hasn't been willing to explain exactly how they got
there. Well,
your Uncle Jay also found your mother's camera and took several
pictures of
your father in your mother's green stretch pants. Mind you, they
look fine
on your mother. I often admire them on her, but on your father...
He's a
large man, you know.
Well, there should be some pictures coming back relating to this
incident. I
should hope that you, respecting your father as I know you do,
would be
interested in disposing of those pictures and the
negatives--preferably
before your mother has a chance to look at them. I would hope
that you would
not even be interested in looking at the pictures yourself,
except to ensure
that you're throwing away pictures of your father, and perhaps
Jay and
myself, but not of your family's recent trip to Tahoe.
-Wayne L. Hubris
You can send my Dad comments about his work, his stories,
and even about his son at chapelr@fraserpapers.com