This is not a story about father’s day. This is a story about the day my father had. He woke up determined to go to the bank to see why his account was short three hundred dollars. He is a very financially organized man and knew something had to be wrong. Something was wrong but unfortunately it was his mistake. Even perfect people (as I would like to think of him) make mistakes. He forgot to enter the amount in his checkbook; therefore he had three hundred dollars less than he thought. As if that wasn’t enough of a bummer, upon leaving the bank he approached his car and discovered he had a flat tire. It still had enough air in it to make it across the street to the convenient mart’s air pump. He deposited his three quarters in the machine only to find the machine was not working. It was becoming one of those days. He entered the store and explained to the cashier what happened. “You will have to call the 1-800 number to retrieve your money,” she advised. “You got to be kidding,” was his response. A manager exited the back room and was kind enough to give him his seventy-five cents back. “Put a sign on the machine,” my father requested. “There is one,” the manager assured. The manager was wrong. There was no out of order sign anywhere to be seen. Off to another air pump he traveled. He was relieved to find the next one working. He pumped the air, got back in his car and drove to a garage to have the tire fixed properly. He explained to his mechanic what happened and asked if he could fix it. “We are fixing our tire repairing machine; you will have to wait a bit.” Of course, on a day like this these are the things that happen. He tried to call home to his wife-my mother. Unbeknownst to him my two year old daughter was over and took the phone off the hook. The annoying beeping of the busy signal was all he got for the next twenty minutes. The tire eventually got patched and he was on his way. He had to pick up some groceries and was hopeful his luck was changing when he found a quarter in his shopping cart. His last stop would be the post office. Upon approaching, he could see one empty spot directly in front of the building. “Great,” he thought. He was just about to pull in when another car in the opposite direction came and quickly turned into the spot. We are characters in our own movies, sometimes our days are dramas other times tearjerkers, today my father’s motion picture was a comedy. At least I thought so. And knowing him the way I know him I think he agrees.