Alisa's Birthday

iPod morning commute music: The Dixie Chicks, Home (2002)

Sometimes I feel like genres should be classically recognizable; jazz should sound like Blue Train, not Bitches Brew. This record is classically country in its sound and feel. Dolly Parton would own this. The lyrics are great as well. There simply isn't a bad song on the record. If you like country, you'll love this. If you think you don't like country, have a listen. It might change your mind.

Today my daughter, Alisa, turns 16. This is hard to believe. I guess when sons grow up, fathers don't feel so protective. It's more like, OK, go on out there, make your mark, and remember to use condoms. With daughters, though, it feels way different. I know part of this is the sexist in me, lurking behind the politically correct trees in my mental forest, but hey! I can't help it. I hate to see my little girl grow up.

Three or four years ago, we were in park, and Alisa got on a swing and asked me to push her. I thought for an instant, "You're too old for this," and then thought, "This might be the last time she asks me for a push." I pushed, and I was right; she never asked again.

I wish she would.

Happy birthday, Alisa. You're growing up in a way that makes Mom and me proud. And always remember, we love you very much.

You, too, Tatsu; just don't forget the condom.