My parents like to go to Europe whenever they can. They’ve been several times in the past ten years or so. Around the time that they started traveling overseas, they began watching a show, I think it was on the Travel Channel, hosted by a guy named Rick Steves. His show was (is? it might still be on the air, I’m not sure) about cool places to explore in Europe, and my parents absolutely loved it. He wrote books about traveling through Europe, and they loved those too. They even bought Rick Steves-endorsed gear. I currently own two of his backpacks – one my parents gave me as a gift, one I “borrowed” in college and sort of forgot to ever return (my mom let me off the hook, since it gave her an excuse to buy a brand new Rick Steves backpack). And they are pretty awesome for traveling, I must admit. Lots of nifty compartments and whatnot.
It turns out that Rick Steves lives in Seattle. (Well, he lives in the suburbs, but close enough.) So when I saw this article about him in our local paper, I had to email the link to my parents. I wasn’t sure how they would react to the whole topic of marijuana legalization since I don’t think it’s something we’ve ever talked about. Although my dad did once suggest to me that since Dave and I have so much land, I could grow pot as an alternative source of income, and it’s doubtful that anyone would ever notice since our neighbors are so far away.
I’m almost positive he was kidding.
My dad is a man of few words. This was his reply, which I am still laughing about. I can imagine him saying this in his Foghorn Leghorn-esque (“now-uh, now-uh, son, I say, son….”) southern accent:
Well, don’t reckon we ought to buy his book no more. Probably a communist, too.
That was his entire email. The end. God, I love my dad.