Just wheat: Only what matters

Today, I saw a picture on Facebook (re-posted by a friend) in honor of Father’s Day. The caption read something along the lines of, “Thanks for always being there for me, Dad.” The picture was of a baby, held up to a window, and on the other side of the glass was his father in prison.

This might have been funny to me, in a “That’s sad, but it’s still funny” kind of way, at other points in my life.

But with my dad sitting in a federal prison now himself, it seems to have lost its wit.

There will always be part of me that feels a bit cynical regarding Father’s Day, and other mushy references toward fathers, at least when I reflect on my own father. He wasn’t there for me, or for any of my eight siblings for that matter. He has an addiction, and he has…