By Neal Thompson
(This originally appeared June 16, 2018, in the New York Post)
I hate Father’s Day. I don’t mind calling my father and wishing him a good one. But as a dad to two rebellious boys (just like my old man), the annual faux holiday and funny cards from my wife stir uneasy memories of failure, chaos and remorse, instead of nostalgia and pride.
Not that I don’t love and admire my kids like crazy. I just never learned to control them. Couldn’t force them to wear helmets when they began...
Published on June 16, 2018 11:41