I love you. It's so simple to say which is why Susan and I say it to each other and to our children, grandchildren and family each and every day. It lets them know they always have our unconditional love and support no matter what. Always. Period. We're even starting to say it to close friends. At first it feels kind of awkward with friends but then if feels good. Try it. You'll like it.

Some people have difficulty expressing emotions and especially something so close to the heart. My father never said "I love you" to me. Maybe he said it to my sister since it would have been easier for him to say it to a daughter rather than a son. Honestly, I think this problem is very common for men of his generation. The "Greatest Generation" wasn't so great in this department, at least in our family.

He paid for my education without one word of complaint and that says I love you in a quiet way that I could understand especially after educating my own two children. The same goes for him constantly putting money in my frequently over-drafted bank account during my college years but he complained about that a lot. I had large Visa bills to pay for my daughter during my parental college bill paying years so Karma can be a big ol' bitch. My complaints also fell on deaf ears. I can't wait to see what happens in the next generation. I hope Karma comes back in a big way and that I'm here to see what happens.

Dad once wisely told me that "love flows down through the generations. A child can never repay a parent for all the parent does in providing for and raising a child. I could never repay my parents for all they did for me and you can never repay me for what I've done for you. The thank you to parent is when the child does the same for his or her child and so forth and so on into the future." This story really appeals to me and says I love you in a profound way that he couldn't express in 3 simple words.

When I was growing up my very expressive mother always told me she loved me and that I was her favorite child. (And who could blame her?) I felt very smug about this tidbit of information but was smart enough to keep it to myself. Later, as a young adult sharing childhood stories with my siblings, I was shocked when Johnny and Lou told me she'd said the same thing to each of them too.

In retrospect, she was ahead of her time. The millennial generation of my children was never in a competition that they didn't win a ribbon or a prize of some sort to "build self esteem". Maybe Mother wanted each of us to win the blue ribbon of parental approval. None of us had to think we were second or third best. I knew I was the most special kid during my formative years even though I never won ribbons or prizes at school, meets or sporting events.

Wait....I did win the the Pinewood Derby when I was a young Boy Scout. (More on scouting in a future posts. I quit scouting later after the older scouts tried to brand me at a camp out. Just as I ran into an electric fence. Looking for a left handed monkey wrench. Oh, I miss the good old days!) The Pinewood Derby trophy was the only trophy to ever grace my childhood room. Was it illegal to add a little lead in the bottom of the car? I have no idea. But when your Eagle Scout father may have (allegedly) helped his flopping around like a fish out of water son win the Pinewood Derby with a (very minor-don't judge) assist...that says I love you in spades. And if some goody-goody Eagle Scout with tons of trophys stored in his attic calls me to return that 1966 trophy, you'll have to come pry it out of my cold, dead, hands.

When my mother turned 65 and was getting a little sensitive about aging (she had been getting a little sensitive about aging for most of her adult life), I asked her how old she was at her birthday dinner. We were sitting around the table at a restaurant with our entire family and a few close friends, and of course I knew I was "poking the bear" with the question but I was still surprised at her answer.

"I'm 65 YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!" she said with more than a little venom in her voice.

Then her pretty face softened and the sweetest smile came to her lips as she added, "But I only say that as a term of endearment!" Everyone started to breath again and they all restarted eating their dinner as we all laughed nervously.

You have to love my mother. I've asked many friends through then years if their mother has ever called them a "fucking asshole" as a "term of endearment" and so far no one has answered in the affirmative.

My brother, sister and I didn't have parents like anyone else's parents. Sure there are some things we missed from having world traveling, good looking, partying, social, outgoing folks who were often absent, who missed our school plays, sporting events and birthdays. But there are other things we gained like independence, a global and progressive view of the world and the ability to see things from a broader perspective than most of our friends. Who else wore a Nehru jacket (a gift from one of their travels abroad) on the playground in 6th grade at Woodard School? That was not my best look, by the way.

There are many ways to say I love you - some conventional, as I prefer to say it to my wife and children and grandchildren - and some very unconventional ways as my parents said and did them. But that's OK. I'm not really all that picky - l'll take them any fucking way I can get 'em.

I am my Mother and Father's son in some ways - I hope the best ways - after all.