Our Summer of Discontent
From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Parenthood
By Timothy Martin

A father is a man who expects his son to be as good a man as he meant to be.
~Frank A. Clark

It was the summer of 1991 when we stopped having fun. My thirteen-year-old son was spending vacation with me. We were heading out on a backpacking trip, driving along a bumpy section of dirt road in the Trinity Alps Wilderness Area, searching for the trailhead. Micah was playing one of his rap tapes. The music was loud, a rhythmic rattle of pounded metal slammed to the background by industrial-strength guitar chords. The song was about shooting cops and holding up 7-Eleven stores. I distinctly heard the singer scream the f-word. I hit the eject button.

“Let’s see if we can find a different song,” I said.

Micah did not enjoy having his music evaluated by me, and he let it be known. I let it be known right back that I did not intend to listen to that kind of trash in my car. It was the first day of vacation and we were already at odds with one another. (Keep reading)