Read the First Line Twice, Please! 

I am embarrassed about my role in this story, but I share it because these types of stories are part of everyone’s life, and they should be shared along with our positive experiences.

So, did you read that first line twice?

I hope so and thank you.

I firmly believe that it’s important to share stories like this one with our families so we can remind each other that we all make mistakes, and that from these mistakes welearn and become a better person.

This memory involves my two-year-old son Paul, my tongue, and me. The setting was at the largest cake equipment supplier in our city.

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My first wife, Carol, was an accomplished cake decorator, and on that day Paul and I were on an errand for her.

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She asked us to go to this store and purchase some equipment she needed for a cake that she was making that day.

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When we got to the store, we looked around but couldn’t find what she wanted, so I asked a salesperson for help. He told me the item was out of stock and suggested some alternatives. I had learned from past experience not to buy anything other than what I was asked to get without checking with Carol.

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Now this experience happened in that prehistoric era known as the Pre-Cell Phone Age, so one of the co-owners gave me permission to use the store phone. I thanked him and had just finished dialing (yes, with an actual rotary dial) when the other co-owner approached me and asked if I would hurry because he needed to make a call. I nodded to let him know that I would hurry. About ten seconds later he came back and was somewhat annoyed and told me I had been on the phone long enough and needed to get off because he had to use it. I nodded to him and told Carol that I had to go, and we would have to get the item somewhere else.

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Most people who know me are aware that my quick tongue can get me into as well as out of trouble, usually it gets me out of more trouble than into trouble, but this time it let me down!

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I take full responsibility for what happened next, but according to my recollections it seemed that in the moment my independent tongue started wagging fast and furious, and before I could stop it, it impolitely blurted out, “That’s a stupid way to run a business!”

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I must have touched a nerve because this guy, who was four or five inches taller and at least 70 pounds heavier than me, started spouting words that were inappropriate for a two-year-old to hear. I turned my back to him and walked away.

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Unsatisfied, he continued spewing nasty words, yelling so loud everyone in the store could hear him. By now I was fuming and, I’m sorry to say, without thinking of the consequences, my tongue added fuel to the fire by yelling, “Ah! Stick it in your ear!”

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Obviously, this did not calm him down. He followed me up the aisle, his volume increasing and his language getting so creative that everyone in the store stopped what they were doing to listen and wonder what I could have done to get him so upset.

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Fortunately for me, he stopped about twenty feet from the door, which gave me some temporary relief, but my tongue wasn’t quite finished. Just as I was going out the door, I turned my head and yelled over my shoulder, “Ah! Stick it in your other ear!”

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This time the guy went berserk. He followed us out the door and to our car, spouting his colorful language, charging towards me, shaking his fist, and letting me know that he wanted to put it in my mouth.

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When we got to the car, I was able to get Paul safely inside but didn’t have time to get out of the guy’s way. I was in the perfect position to get my teeth knocked out. What happened next makes me grateful my tongue shifted out of the “get me into trouble” mode and into the “get me out of trouble” mode, by using a very brave and intelligent bluff.

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With a boldness that belied my inner feelings, I turned towards the man and my tongue clearly said, “Go ahead and hit me, but if you do, I will sue you for everything you’ve got.” Of course, me pointing my finger at him reinforced my bravery.

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This stopped him on the spot. I watched as he wrestled to make his own shift, as his clenched fist and cocked arm gave way to more rational thought.

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Struggling for composure, he threw out his final colorful volley which I have condensed to make it family friendly, “Get out of here and don’t ever come back.” I took Paul, my tongue, my pride, and obeyed his command.

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Acting out in anger is never an appropriate solution to a problem, and, as happened here, generally makes a difficult situation worse.

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As I said at the beginning, even though I am embarrassed about my actions, I strongly believe it’s important to share experiences like this with our families. Our children need to understand that we as parents are imperfect and make mistakes, sometimes even serious ones.

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Owning our part and sharing our story with them creates an opportunity for us to also teach the lessons to be learned and help them understand the potential positive power of failing forward.