Joe Hage

I can see Lucas playing basketball from my home office. I just ducked my head out the window to say, “I love you, Son.” He replied, “I love you too, Dad.” Then I shut my window and returned to work. I imagine him feeling good knowing Dad is watching and appreciating him. The kind of …

Continue reading Sharing love, anytime.

We learned about gambling at this year’s vacation. The resort gave us three $10 vouchers to double any $10 bet we placed at the roulette or card tables. With the kids waiting in the lobby, I placed a two-for-one bet and won on red. I came back to announce I had won $20. What should …

Continue reading Gambling With My Kids’ Money

My dad has a little brown spot on his hand. And when I was little he told me it was a ticklish spot. We were in our den and he was on the phone. I decided to tickle the spot. “It’s not ticklish when I’m on the phone,” he said. As it turns out, Dad …

Continue reading Eulogizing My Father

I got there at 11:00 or so. He was sleeping but woke to a “really good” day. I got talk to him as I would someone in perfect health. With Mom nearby, I talked about my new business (“So proud of you”) and my family (“I love you more than you know”). I showed JPEGs …

Continue reading The Last Day with My Father

I don’t know if I’ll hit the publish button. I’m collecting thoughts after the most memorable Father’s Day of my life. My dad is dying. At one point today, my mother, sisters, and I crowded around my father’s bed in the assisted living facility. We professed our profound love for the man and each got …

Continue reading Saying Goodbye to Dad

My seven-year-old takes karate. Makes him feel invincible. Him: “Don’t worry. If a bad guy comes, I know karate.” Me: “I still want you where I can see you.” Him: “Don’t worry. I know karate.” Me: “What if three bad guys come?” Him: “That’s ok. I can do my ‘tornado kick.’” I think when kids …

Continue reading Scared the S*** Out of Me

… and I’m sound asleep. “Joey? The dog.” I hate this. But I don’t fight it. My wife needs her sleep. And I can usually fall right back to sleep. The dog bolts out the front door. I wait. Nothing. “Brooklyn!” “Brook!” Five minutes. Ten. Finally the dog resurfaces. By now, I’ve complained about him …

Continue reading 2:58 a.m.