When I looked closely at the face of my 23-year-old son, Brian, in the doorway, we were saying goodbye. In a few hours he would be flying to France. It was a transitional (过渡的) time in Brian’s life, a passage from college into the adult world. I wanted to leave him some words that would have some meaning, some significance beyond the moment. But nothing came from my lips.

No sound broke the stillness of my beachside home. I stood frozen and quiet, looking into the searching eyes of my son, which I knew was not the first time I had let such a moment pass.

When Brian was five, I took him to the school bus stop on his first day of kindergarten. I felt the tension in his hand holding mine as the bus turned the corner. I saw color flush (发红) his cheeks as the bus pulled up. He looked at me—as he did now. “What is it going to be like, Dad? Can I do it? Will I be OK?” Then he walked up the bus steps and disappeared inside. The bus drove away, and I said nothing.

A decade later, a similar scene played itself out. I drove him to college in Virginia. As I started to make the trip home, I tried to think of something to say to give him courage and confidence as he started this new phase of life. I left, only mumbling (咕哝) “Hope you feel better, Brian.”

I once told Brian about my great regret that I didn’t take a year off to travel. Brian thought about this. After graduation, he worked as a waiter, a bike messenger and a painter. Now he had enough money for Paris. The night before he left, I tossed and turned (辗转难眠) in bed. I was trying to figure out something to say. Nothing came. Maybe it wasn’t necessary to say anything.

How many times have we all let such moments pass? What does it matter over the course of a lifetime if a father never tells a son what he really thinks of him?

But as I stood before Brian, I knew that it does matter.

Hearing this, Brian came toward me and threw his arms around me.

Robert was a carpenter (木匠). He was living in a village. His mother died a long time ago. His aged father, Kuppan, lived with Robert. Kuppan was very weak. He could not even walk well. He was so weak because Robert did not give him enough food.

Robert had a son. His name was Michael. Michael was just ten years old. He was a very good boy. He loved his grandfather. He had great respect for his grandfather. We did not like his father’s attitude and character to his grandfather, because his father was treating his grandfather cruelly. One day Kuppan was eating his food in the small plate that his son had given to him. The plate fell and broke into pieces. The food also fell on the floor. Robert was working at the other end of the room. He saw the broken plate. He was very angry with his father and used very sharp words to blame his father. The old man felt bad about what happened. He was sorry for his mistake. Robert’s words wounded him very deeply.

Michael saw this. But he was afraid to speak against his father. He was sad about his grandfather. But he was not powerful to stand in support of his grandfather. Then he got an idea.

The next day, Michael took some of his father’s tools and a piece of wood.

The carpenter was pretty shocked to hear that.

My parents do a lot of embarrassing things! Usually, it’s my dad who sings silly songs or tells corny jokes around my friends. But a few weeks ago, it was my mother who played the embarrassing-parent role.

While my mom and I were shopping, we ran into my teacher, who mentioned that the school didn’t have a music teacher to help our class put together a performance for Winter Fair. And, right then and there, my mom said, “I know the perfect song and dance. I’ll teach it to the kids!”

Before I could say “Please don’t”, my mom had agreed to come to my class every morning at 9:30 for a week. Oh, and just to be clear, it’s not as if she’s a professional entertainer. My parents run a small grocery store, and the only singing my mom does is in the shower.

“Um,” I said on our way home, “are you sure this is such a good idea?” “Of course! ” she said. “If we want your school Winter Fair to happen, people need to step up and volunteer.” “I know volunteering is important,” I said, “but couldn’t you help out in Tex and Indi’s kindergarten instead?” She laughed, “Don’t be silly. We will have fun!”

“OK, fellas!” my teacher said at 9:28 on Monday. “We’re going to stop silent reading a little early today because a special guest is here to help us with a performance for Winter Fair. Let’s all welcome Arizona’s mother.”

I looked up to discover my mom standing at the front of the room wearing the world’s silliest snowflake hat. “I’m super excited to be here with you!” my mom said, “I’m going to teach you a fun little song-and-dance performance I learned a few years back, when I did some theater in college. Here goes !”

Oh please, oh please, I said over and over in my head, let there be a fire drill, or an assembly, or a power failure, or anything to stop my mom from completely embarrassing herself- and me!!!

But apparently, my mom was not at all concerned about looking silly. She turned on some background music and started singing and dancing away.

“I can’t believe this is happening” was all I could think.

My mom turned out to be more than a little OK at performing.