It was an ordinary day. Reading a note from my daughter, Brynn, who had just sent me a photo of her husband, my son-in-law, Dave, that had been taken in a bar in Ocean City, New Jersey. Dave coaches football at Urbana High School in Urbana, Maryland which is near Frederick, MD. He recently was asked to talk at a football conference about the best way to include the entire family into the football program. Dave is a fantastic coach as well as a very good motivational speaker. He asked a few of his assistants to make the trip to Ocean City with him in hopes of learning some new techniques that could be used in his football program. While taking some time off for a bite to eat and a refreshing drink, a woman at the bar saw one of Dave's assistants wearing an Urbana football jersey. She just loved it and commented to the coach just how much she would like to have one just like it. The coach, wearing the jersey over another shirt, removed his white Urbana shirt and presented it to the woman. Well, she was just overwhelmed and began to cry. She wanted to know if the fellow was the head coach and when Dave was pointed out as the head coach, she asked if she could have a photo taken with him. That is the photo that Brynn just sent to me with the caption that read: "Dave is turning into dad, giving away his shirt at a bar. But he didn't take hers!" Now, for many readers, that might bring back memories of a story I posted this past summer after returning home from our annual vacation to the Caribbean island of St. Martin.
Maurice in his new skin-tight shirt.
One evening while hunting for a pizza for supper in Orient Village, I walked into a bar and a very large, and very French, guy looked at me and pointed to my shirt. I happened to be wearing a shirt I had bought in Cape May, New Jersey at the Cape May Lobster House. He yelled to me that he loved my shirt and wanted to trade me his shirt for it. Eventually I did trade him for his aqua Pinel Island shirt which was a "XX" size in exchange for my "L" size shirt. He pulled and pulled and eventually had his new shirt in place. I naturally had to have a photo with Maurice wearing our new shirts. His friend took my camera and snapped a photo just as Maurice was planting a big kiss on my bald head. That now famous family photo was the one that my daughter was referring to when she sent me the photo of my son-in-law. Like father-in-law, like son-in-law! Almost, since he didn't ask for her shirt. It was another extrarordinary day in the life of an oridinary guy.
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