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I don't remember if I've mentioned this on my blog before or not but soon after I left for college my dear old dad, the geeky engineer from Stanford, turned all hippy on me, gave up meat and started playing at open mic nights in Berkeley and San Francisco. He taught himself to play the harmonic and guitar years ago and after Titanic came out he got all crazy about the tin whistle (that flute sounding instrument that plays the Titanic theme?) and he's quite good at all three instruments so I guess he gained some popularity and started getting invited to a lot of indie music festivals and concerts, etc. Which is all a bit strange really cause I end up attending these indie festivals surrounded by a bunch of artsy fartsy liberals and I'm there for my dad. You know, the old guy. Except now he's on a CD along with some hardcore rock group as well as some underground rapper. (Yes, it is the most um, let's say, "eclectic" collection of music I've ever heard).

Last night he had to go to Oakland to play in some club or something. My mom just went to sleep but by midnight I was picturing him bruised and beaten somehwere in the mean streets of Oakland. When he got home at 1:30 a.m. I had to fight the urge to go downstairs and ask him what the hell he was doing home so late. I don't think this is what my parents meant when they told me, "Someday you'll know what it's like to worry."