Chip Off the Old Block

He’s a fine young man, they would tell my dad,

men mostly my dad’s age, sometimes a bit older.

A fine young man indeed, they told dad in front

of me. I never saw the fine, and I was still only

fourteen, not quite a man yet that I could see.

Perhaps maybe one day, I might be what they

were saying about me. Then again, that remained

to be seen. A chip off the old block, some of them

would say, as they grinned a silly grin when they

did. Anyway, it looked like a silly, insincere grin to

me. What in hell did a chip off the old block look

like, anyway? Surely not like my dad or me.​ My

dad sure looked pleased. The compliments were

meant for him, but only embarrassed me. Not be-

cause I didn’t want to look like my dad, mind you.

To me, my dad was a handsome man, and I guess

most any man would be proud to have a son who

physically or characteristically took after him. I

was only fourteen, thin as a rail with a few pimples

on my face. It was embarrassing for me to be com-

pared with my dad. I only wished I looked like

him. And much later on in life, I saw that there

was a marked similarity in looks between my dad

and me. Now, I raised a son of my own. And when

I introduced him to people I knew, not one of them

ever said he looked like me. Probably because at

an age in his early teens he had red hair and freckles

which I never did. He got those physical traits from

his mother’s side of the family. As far as I know,

no one ever said to her, your son is a chip off the

old block. My son’s mom is a first generation

German, and given her misunderstanding of that

customary American expression, and the language
barrier, she would have more than likely “knocked
their block off.”

                             -30-

Chris Hanch 4-22-2020