“If Joan of Arc could turn the tide of an entire war before her 18th birthday, you can get out of bed.”

—E. Jean Carroll

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Today’s story is from Eric.

I was born with a lazy bone.

4th of July. Every year with neighbors and friends we packed into a caravan. Coolers overflowing. Shoulder to shoulder in our mom’s and dad’s trucks. Off we went to Blacksburg High. Why? Fireworks. From the bleachers, it was a magnificent site.

Long ago, one 4th of July day, my cousin and I decided to take a dip in our inflatable backyard pool. “OK?” we asked Dad. From the yard he yelled, “Fine!”

My parents were divorced. I had just arrived to stay with Dad for a few days. My duffle and suitcase were still packed, up in my room. I rummaged around. No swimsuit to be found.

But don’t forget: I was born with a lazy bone.

My Dad knew me well. So when I told him I couldn’t find my trunks, he eyed me skeptically. “You looked through all your packed clothes?” He asked. Yes, I nodded.

“You’re sure?” he added. “I’m sure,” I answered. “OK,” he said. I’ll help you find them, son.”

Score! I thought. Dad would look hard. He’d find the trunks. And, in the process he’d get me unpacked. But then Dad said something I didn’t expect. “But if I find your trunks, you forgo the fireworks tonight. Do you still want me to go look?”

Clearly, an empty threat … Dad wouldn’t dare. “Sure,” I confidently said. Dad marched inside and up to my room. Within minutes he reappeared—my trunks in hand.

Time for the pool! I thought.

Dad cocked his head. I snatched my trunks out of his hand. “So you looked through everything, huh?” he asked. “I did!” I said… “in my duffle bag, but not my suitcase; that’s what I meant.”

“Is that so?” Dad said. “So what if I told you I found your trunks right there in your duffle?” “Well, um, maybe it was my suitcase. That’s where I looked. That’s what I meant.”

I impatiently waited for Dad to quit this third degree stuff and let me go swim. My cousin was waiting. “Come on Dad,” I said. “It’s hot. Can I go swim while there’s time before we leave to see fireworks?”

I couldn’t believe what my father did next. “No swimming. No fireworks either,” said Dad.

“No swimming because you were lazy. And, no fireworks because you lied.”

Dad looked at me. I looked at Dad. You have to be kidding, I thought. “But Daaaaadddd,” I whined. I was devastated. Dad was a monster, I thought. Never ever would I forgive this horrible man.

What happened? My cousin went swimming while I sat in my room. And, I stayed behind that night. I could hear the explosions in the distance. I imagined myself there. The brilliant colors. The crowd. I cried most of the night.

But you know what? Turns out my dad’s a smart guy (no monster after all).

I grew out of that lazy bone real quick. And never have I lied to him since.

A small moment perhaps—but it’s one I’ll never forget. And when I see those glorious fireworks each 4th of July? I think of my dad.

I remember that night … and the difference it made for the rest of my life.

Sometimes dads need to be tough to make their point.

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