The Boys Go to Galveston

The Brother and I have been planning a fishing trip for about three weeks. We were going to take the Bolivar Ferry over to Crystal Beach and camp last night and surf fish. That got rained out.

So, a friend’s bay house came to the rescue. We packed a bag and headed down to Bayou Vista for a 24-hr all-male bonding time.

• We took in A Night at the Museum. You should wait for video, but worth it to hear Owen Wilson say, “I can’t quit you.”


• I put him on a diet of unlimited junk-food. One bag of Dorito’s, a half pound of sunflower seeds, a king-size Hershey bar, a huge bag of movie popcorn, two Coke’s (and half of my Diet Dew and Diet Coke), a Salt Grass sirloin and salad, and half of a brownie sundae later he said, “I’m full.”


• We rode the Bolivar Ferry anyway – at 10pm in a horrible thunderstorm. It was cool to stand on the observation deck in the howling wind and rain. We got soaked, hurried back to “Dora the Explorer,” and u-turned it on Bolivar Peninsula to catch the same ferry back to Galveston. We braved the storm again with laughter and a “dispute” over whose hair got the wettest.


• Finally dried off and in bed back at the bay house, we watched Sea Biscuit and Jackie Chan’s First Strike until 3am.


• The Brother souvenir shopped in the morning and we took this photo at the hurricane commemoration statue on the sea wall. Then it was Shipley’s donuts and kolaches for breakfast while he drank straight from the 2-liter bottle of Dr. Pepper.

We talked about everything and nothing, and he said “Thanks for the trip, Dad” more times than I can count. He is growing into a young man right before my eyes. Every time I blink he’s grown another inch, hit another single, learned a new word, laughed too many times that I missed. His room is messy, he “forgets” to brush his teeth, and sometimes he’s a pain to the Two Sisters. He is a normal 9 year old.

I thank God for his bright blue eyes, his inquisitive mind, and his healthy body. And his messy room. He has a gentle spirit, a need to be building or drawing something, and an eye for detail. All of these are traits that will serve him well in adulthood. They’re also things I’d wish to instill in him as a man.

It was about 5 am when the king size bed we shared became a little too big for him. He nestled against me in his sleep and said, “Dad, you’re warm.” Ahhh, for the moment, he's still a boy.

Lord, help me wisely use these days as a father to a young boy. I have some important work to do.