Lesson 39

    Well, to tell you the truth,I do have a little talent that nobody knows about. I write poems and stories and keep them in a red notebook in my bottom desk drawer.
    Nowadays I dream about being a famous writer, but I used to dream about doing something spectacular to impress my father and make him proud of me-something like rescuing a child from a burning building or chasing a robber away from an old lady.

    I was daydreaming in school one morning ( which I do often). I was daydreaming about being some kind of hero, like discovering an instant cure for cancer or a shot for mental illness, when I heard my English teacher announce a Father's Day essay contest for the whole school.
    "I hope we have a winner right here in my English class,

she said. "The PTA has donated three cash prizes- one hundred dollars for first prize, fifty dollars for second, and twenty-five dollars for third prize. "
    After school I walked home, thinking about the essay I would write. My father is an astronaut, I would start out. No, I decided. I wouldn't do that. The whole country and maybe even the whole world saw my father as an astronaut , but that wasn't the way I saw him.

    When Igot home, I kissed my mom quickly. Then I went upstairs to my room and sat down with a pen and a pad of paper. I started to think about what I would write.
    How did I see my father. Hmm.
    I saw him sitting with me in the dark23 when I was a little kid and had a nightmare.
    I saw him teaching me how to use a bat and how to throw a baseball.
    I remembered how he hugged me for hours when my dog Spotty was hit and killed by a car.

    And I remembered how he surprised me with a new puppy at my eighth birthday party. When I started to cry, he told all the kids that I had a bad allergy. "David's allergy bothers him a lot this time of year," Dad said.
    And I remembered how he sat and tried to explain death to me when Grandpa Bob died.
    These were the things I was going to write about my dad. To me, he wasn't just a world-famous astronaut. He was my dad.

    I wrote about all these memories and put them in my essay. I handed it in the next day and was surprised to find out that the winning essays would be read in the auditorium on Thursday night. A11 the parents and students were invited.
    My parents and I went to school Thursday night. One of our neighbours said, "I bet you'll win the contest, David. I bet you wrote what it's like to be the son of an astronaut, and you're the only one in town who could write about that. "

    My dad looked at me, and I shrugged. I hadn't sliown him the essay, and now I almost hoped Lwouldn't win. I didn't want; to win just because my father was an astronaut.
When third prize was announced and it wasn't me, I was relieved and disappointed at the same time, Ellen Gordon won third prize, and she read her essay. Ellen. is adopted, and she wrote a.bout her "better than real" father. When she got to the end,I heard people in the audience sniffing and blowing their noses. My mother sniffed, and my father cleared his throat.

    The second-prize winner was announced next. It was me.
    I went up to the stage, my knees shaking. I read my essay and wondered if my voice was shaking, too. It was scary standing up in front of all those people. I called my essay "My Father's Son. " I watched my parents as I read. When I finished reading, the audience applauded. I saw my father blowing his nose. Tears were running down my mother's face. I went back
to my seat.

    "I see you have an allergy , too , Dad , " I tried to joke.
Dad nodded, cleared his throat, and put his hand on my shoulder. "Son, this is the proudest moment of my life," he said.
    It was the proudest moment of my life, too. Maybe I'll never be a great hero or win a Nobel Prize, but just then, it was enough just to be my father's son.