I hate growing up. It's made me fat.

I’ve learned some very important things the last few days. I can’t say exactly what it is that makes most of these findings any more life changing or profound than my previous discoveries. I guess it’s just that at this moment, the randomness of it all means that these conclusions carry a bit more weight with where I’m at in my life.

I've written them down and submit for your amusement. They are, in no real particular order:

NASCAR racing and country dancing are pretty much the same thing.

-    In both you navigate your way through a nightmare of a traffic jam only to continually turn left for several hours without really going anywhere at all. If someone gets bumped or rubbed the wrong way, there’s a good chance punches will be thrown.

Be nice to your friends’ younger sisters. Law of Averages says they’re most likely going to grow up to be hot. Really, really hot.

-     Facebook has taught me this. Think I’m wrong? Friend request an old buddy you haven’t seen in 15-20 years and tell me I’m mistaken.

Every guy on “Wheel of Fortune” wants to say hi to his 'beautiful wife' at home.

-     Really? Beautiful? Every single one of them? Not “incredible” or “brilliant” or “love of my life” or anything that doesn’t rhyme with beautiful or start with “bee” and end with “you-tee-full?” This drives me absolutely bananas. Hasn't anyone heard of truth in advertising? I’d definitely come up with something much better if I were put on the spot to describe my wife.

I hate growing up. It’s made me fat.

-     My wife says it’s the Oreos, chocolate chip cookies and milk, and steady diet of pizza that I insist on eating. She thinks I should consider healthier alternatives. I tell her she’s wrong – Oreos and I have been friends for a long time, and they wouldn’t betray me like that. “And the pizza?” she asks. I've yet to tell her that I'm the 5th Ninja Turtle. 

As I go down the list, I make a mental note that since I don't like country music, dancing, or NASCAR I'm no worse for wear. It's nothing more than a casual observation. As for my friend's sisters, well, this is where I give a gratuitous shout-out to my beautiful wife and say, "But you got the ring...." And the growing up? I could really go for a mulligan about now. Or a time machine.

Somewhere in the middle of that last one I have my epiphany: What kind of impression did I make on the world as a teenager? Was I a good friend?

As I make “friends” with people on Facebook that I used to be friends with in middle and high school, I wonder why it was we ever lost touch in the first place. I get that people grow apart and go their separate ways. I’m not naïve to the science that life just happens and sometimes simply demands of us that we choose sides and betray one friend for another.

It’s the choosing sides thing that I struggle with – the how and why of it that we stopped being friends. I ask myself if I treated them fairly. Was I a good friend when they needed one? Was I willing to listen more than I talked? Was I unafraid to be seen with them when no one else wanted to be? Was I willing to accept them as they were and find qualities that no one else cared to?

I wish I had a good answer to all of those questions. Hell, I wish I had a good answer to one of them. Truth is, I was just a kid. I didn’t know that as different as someone might seem, they were really dying on the inside for the same love, attention, and acceptance that I was. Growing up, nothing was expected of me in the friends department other than to choose good ones. I fell victim to the “kids will be kids” mantra of society.

Being a parent, I look at Kacie and try to figure out which category of a friend she fits into and what actions I can take to prevent her from becoming the person society nurtures us to be. How can I keep my daughter from making the same mistakes that I did? How can I show her that friendship is more than just a word?

It doesn’t take but a moment before those questions quickly abandon my thoughts as I realize Kacie embodies every single one of those qualities I couldn’t exhibit, not just a little bit, but instead with every ounce of who she is. It’s not an act. It’s not for show. It’s just who she’s decided at a young age to be. Without knowing it, Kacie’s become a reflection of her mom. I’m good with that. It means there’s hope. Hope is all any father still growing up himself can ask for.

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