The Talk
When I was growing up we spent alot of time in the kitchen. We had an eight-person table and my dad sat at the end, next to a built-in desk. When he got home from work that is where he first plopped down. That is where he watched the news. That is where he ate his dinner. And after dinner, that is where he did his thinking, always with a glass of Rebel Yell in his hand. One evening after our meal he asked me, “Son, do you know anything about BREEDING?” Even today, that seems like an odd way to word a question to an eleven-year-old whose family had nothing to do with either the ranching of cattle or the banking of sperm. So naturally I answered that NO, in fact I did NOT know anything about breeding. He said, "well come on down here, you’re about the right age for this." And with that, he got out a pencil and paper. Breeding? What on earth are you talking about? No matter what my father was a trying to explain, he always used some sort of graphic repre...