While out walking the mutt, I spotted my son playing an animated game of four-square during school recess. He noticed me and started shouting and waving. He’s ten, so I suppose my stock is nearing its peak. As his his teenage years draw nigh, I’m predicting a bear market, followed by a full collapse.
When I was ten, my world revolved around baseball cards. This was before the card boom and subsequent collapse. I’d get together with trading partners and we’d nerd away the day swapping cards. Around that time I bought several packs of hockey cards. I remember looking at one card in particular. The card featured a first-year player with a strange name and eye-popping stats. Oddly enough, though I had purchased just two packs of hockey cards, I had doubles of this particular card. Alas, no one in the neighborhood collected hockey cards, and thus my interest soon faded.
The closet in my room had a small opening in the wall. I loved to dump marbles and whatnot into the wall, and listen to them drop one floor below. Bored with the hockey cards, one day I dumped them in the wall.
I only mention this because the card just sold for $94,163. I’m fairly certain the two cards are still in the wall, and I know exactly where they are. In my new life as a construction ninja, I’m also fairly certain that I could extract the cards and patch up the garage wall within an hour. Alas, how does one present this scheme to the current home owner? No doubt I’m too lazy to put the effort into such a goose chase, but in a couple of years, I could envision Zach and I undertaking this scheme under the guise of “having an adventure”…perhaps an adventure in which a surly teenager and his lame-o dad reforge bonds weakened and frayed by teenage angst.