I'm a sucker for father/son moments.

Maybe it's the fact that my dad and I have such a great relationship.  We have the same sense of humor (you're in for it if we're both in the same room together), we love to play golf together, and we enjoy each other's company.  Oh, and that hug we shared, after the priest blessed my mom the afternoon before she died, yeah, GREATEST.  HUG.  EVER.

We have the memories of playing catch after dinner (dad taught me how to throw a sick knuckle ball).  Or looking for golf balls in the woods at _______ (you think I'm going to tell you my best location?!)

Or going to visit him in jail.

Settle down, he was the warden.  And man, do I have stories from that.  But we'll save it for another time.

Father/son moments, and for that matter, any parent/child moment are very special things.

My son Ethan was born in November of 2008.

It was a tough pregnancy and my wife had to go in for a (somewhat) emergency C-section.

When Ethan came out, he wasn't breathing.

He was blue.

Now remember, I'm a golf pro.  I didn't actually know what was going on.  But I did know that when your newborn comes out looking like a smurf, something's not right.

My wife knew right away.  There was no crying and the nurses scampered to resuscitate him.

I just stood next to him at the table while the nurses did their thing.

Then one of them said to me, "You can touch him."

So I did.

I touched his belly and his cheeks, his arms, and his shoulders.  I moved my finger down to his hand and put it in his palm.

Then, there was magic.

He squeezed my finger.

Then a cry.

A huge sigh of relief fell over the room.  Ethan started breathing.

What seemed like an eternity was merely a minute or two.

Ever since then, I've felt a special bond between Ethan and I.  I can't explain it.  It's just a feeling.  Even when he grabs my hand to cross the street, I feel it.

And it goes full circle.  Because that same squeeze that Ethan gave me to start his life...was the same squeeze my mom gave to me before she ended hers.

So, yeah, those parent/child memories get me.  There's sad stuff, but there's much more happy stuff.

And, this year's Daddy Caddy is dedicated to my mom.

Thanks,
Bryan