an Open Letter to my father

Dear dad, I am not Timmy. I am not great at sports, or very athletic at all. The girls don't like me much and I don't have a lot of friends. I'm not Timmy. I don't get straight A's and I surely won't be king of the prom next year. When are you going to let me be who I am? I like writing, I think it's interesting ok? The reason why I had the constitution out the other night is NOT because I am a terrorist, dad. I was doing a piece on government for my web site. Sure, I'm plenty different than Timmy, but in special ways. My name is Lono, dad... not Timmy. Timmy is dead.

You know, maybe there is some of my mother's Canadian side to me. Maybe that's why I am funny and clean. Sure dad, I could join the football team... but that won't make Timmy come back. Besides, you never once even showed up to the debate team or the mock UN for me. It's like you don't even care about me sometimes. Ow! Why are you hitting me? What does that have to do with anything? Huh? Because Roy is my friend, Dad, that's why! Stop that!

No one took your weed off your dresser ok, you traded it with creepy Larry next door for beer because your 'queer son is too afraid to go to the store and steal some beer like a man'. Remember that conversation, Pop? You'd have remember that if you hadn't fallen asleep drunk again watching 'Clevaland girls go wild' for the 30th time. Just forget it, from now on my name is Gordon... and I am going to live with mom. My wife thinks it will be better for all of us, anyway.