Fathers and Sons
My feelings toward my father are very complex. I am like him in a great many ways, and many of the things I like best about myself come from him, sickening as that may also be. The following incident rather perfectly represents, I think, the ways in which we are very, very different.

I have sitting on my lap my copy of the novelization of Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith. I obviously won't read it until after I have seen the movie, but I did venture to read the dedication from author Matthew Stover. It reads:

the author respectfully dedicates this adaptation
To George Lucas
with gratitude for the dreams of a generation,
and of generations to come,
for twenty-eight years and counting...

thank you, sir

I have never read a novel by Matthew Stover, but I like him already. The dedication is sheer perfection. It encapsulates my own feelings towards Mr. Lucas, and I can only hope that in Mr. Stover's place I would have carried myself with half as much grace. Well done, sir.

Excited, I took the book to my father and presented him with the dedication. I prefaced it with remarks along these lines, "Hey, Dad, check out how cool this dedication is." He read it without reaction, then flipped the page and started the introduction. He then flipped back to the dedication. "You mean this? Yep, twenty-eight years. Glad I held out, I hope it's worthwhile." What? He could not have missed the point by a larger margin if doing so had been his stated intention.

"There is still good in him. I've sensed it."