Alex Fees

I am standing in the check-out line inside Ross department store with our 14-year-old, Jacob.

He is purchasing some finger board equipment he saw advertised, online. (They’re like skateboards for your fingers.)

We are just a few minutes away from home, but I told Jake that I needed to pick up his brother and drive him to piano lessons, in about six minutes.

“Think we can make it?” Jake said. The line was not moving. “Maybe with Papa’s convertible.”

Jake is intrigued by the fact that my 80-year-old father-in-law, Ed Vokoun, a retired attorney, used to drive a convertible. That was long before I met his daughter, Rachel, became a member of the family and started adding grandchildren to the roster Ed shares with my mother-in-law, Carolyn.

While I have heard about it, I have never even seen photos of said convertible. Then again, Jacob comments that Ed, whose 10 grandchildren know as “Papa,” is not someone who was likely to drive fast or recklessly.

“He is the second most cautious man I know,” adds Jake.

“Really?” I said. “Who is the first?”

“You are,” Jacob said to his 60-year-old father, who is not an attorney, not retired, and drives a 12-year-old Chevy Malibu with the “check engine” light stuck on.

The most cautious man he knows? I ponder that. Okay, I decide - I’ll take it.

Perhaps it’s not as bad as it once was. Jake and his brother, Daniel, 12, are old enough that they need some margin in which to make their own decisions and learn from their mistakes. But there was a time, when they were younger, when my attitude was - as long as I can physically prevent it, harm will not come their way.

And it pretty much did not. Call me a helicopter parent; my children are safe.

But this isn’t about me. It’s about my father-in-law, the second-most cautious man our oldest son knows. While we, apparently, have that in common, I don’t share some of Ed’s other qualities:

• retired attorney
• former pilot and airplane owner
• former Boy Scout troop leader
• abundantly patient and even-tempered

For the sake of my self-esteem, I won’t bullet-point the ways I come up short, but trust me – I could.

For several years when their five children were younger, Ed and Carolyn, a retired music teacher, owned a home at Lake of the Ozarks, in addition to their home on Chesterfield Hill. I hear lots of stories about those days, too.

Once, nearly 20 years ago – Rachel and I were engaged, but not yet married – I got to talking to a couple guys on the weight machine next to me at the gym. They were both defense attorneys and worked in workmen’s compensation law. I mentioned that my fiancé’s father was an attorney who worked in workmen’s comp. for the law firm known as Evans and Dixon.

“What’s his name?” one of them said to me.

“Ed Vokoun,” I told them.

The guy sort of snorted, and nodded his head. Then he looked down at his shoes and shook his head, as if remembering the details of some court case or settlement – something else that I was not aware of.

“Alex,” he said, “there’s no way you would know this, but your future father-in-law is like the dean of St. Louis workmen’s comp attorneys. He is to workmen’s comp what Ozzie Smith is to the St. Louis Cardinals.”

Wow. Little did I know.

Ed joined Jake and I at the driving range, just this afternoon. While I am not much of a golfer, Ed is, and has been teaching Jake the basics. Ed and Carolyn have historically been very generous to *all* their grandchildren, and I told Jake I wanted to make sure and arrive before Ed today, so we could pay for the golf balls. We did.

Ed likes to have Jake set up on the tee in front of him so he can observe Jake’s swing and mechanics. That’s fine, but while sitting behind them, last time, I observed that Jake’s backswing nearly clocked my father-in-law in the head when Ed leaned over the ball. I mentioned it to both of them, and suggested they switch positions.

Safety, first.

They did not.

So, ignoring the advice of the most cautious man he knows, our son and my father-in-law ran the risk of Jake hitting the second-most cautious man he knows in the head with a golf club.

I think they just forgot; I let it go. It gets old - always being the Safety Police. And everything turned out, fine… this time.

I am standing in the check-out line inside Ross department store with our 14-year-old, Jacob.

He is purchasing some finger board equipment he saw advertised, online. (They’re like skateboards for your fingers.)

We are just a few minutes away from home, but I told Jake that I needed to pick up his brother and drive him to piano lessons, in about six minutes.

“Think we can make it?” Jake said. The line was not moving. “Maybe with Papa’s convertible.”

Jake is intrigued by the fact that my 80-year-old father-in-law, Ed Vokoun, a retired attorney, used to drive a convertible. That was long before I met his daughter, Rachel, became a member of the family and started adding grandchildren to the roster Ed shares with my mother-in-law, Carolyn.

While I have heard about it, I have never even seen photos of said convertible. Then again, Jacob comments that Ed, whose 10 grandchildren know as “Papa,” is not someone who was likely to drive fast or recklessly.

“He is the second most cautious man I know,” adds Jake.

“Really?” I said. “Who is the first?”

“You are,” Jacob said to his 60-year-old father, who is not an attorney, not retired, and drives a 12-year-old Chevy Malibu with the “check engine” light stuck on.

The most cautious man he knows? I ponder that. Okay, I decide - I’ll take it.

Perhaps it’s not as bad as it once was. Jake and his brother, Daniel, 12, are old enough that they need some margin in which to make their own decisions and learn from their mistakes. But there was a time, when they were younger, when my attitude was - as long as I can physically prevent it, harm will not come their way.

And it pretty much did not. Call me a helicopter parent; my children are safe.

But this isn’t about me. It’s about my father-in-law, the second-most cautious man our oldest son knows. While we, apparently, have that in common, I don’t share some of Ed’s other qualities:

• retired attorney
• former pilot and airplane owner
• former Boy Scout troop leader
• abundantly patient and even-tempered

For the sake of my self-esteem, I won’t bullet-point the ways I come up short, but trust me – I could.

For several years when their five children were younger, Ed and Carolyn, a retired music teacher, owned a home at Lake of the Ozarks, in addition to their home on Chesterfield Hill. I hear lots of stories about those days, too.

Once, nearly 20 years ago – Rachel and I were engaged, but not yet married – I got to talking to a couple guys on the weight machine next to me at the gym. They were both defense attorneys and worked in workmen’s compensation law. I mentioned that my fiancé’s father was an attorney who worked in workmen’s comp. for the law firm known as Evans and Dixon.

“What’s his name?” one of them said to me.

“Ed Vokoun,” I told them.

The guy sort of snorted, and nodded his head. Then he looked down at his shoes and shook his head, as if remembering the details of some court case or settlement – something else that I was not aware of.

“Alex,” he said, “there’s no way you would know this, but your future father-in-law is like the dean of St. Louis workmen’s comp attorneys. He is to workmen’s comp what Ozzie Smith is to the St. Louis Cardinals.”

Wow. Little did I know.

Ed joined Jake and I at the driving range, just this afternoon. While I am not much of a golfer, Ed is, and has been teaching Jake the basics. Ed and Carolyn have historically been very generous to *all* their grandchildren, and I told Jake I wanted to make sure and arrive before Ed today, so we could pay for the golf balls. We did.

Ed likes to have Jake set up on the tee in front of him so he can observe Jake’s swing and mechanics. That’s fine, but while sitting behind them, last time, I observed that Jake’s backswing nearly clocked my father-in-law in the head when Ed leaned over the ball. I mentioned it to both of them, and suggested they switch positions.

Safety, first.

They did not.

So, ignoring the advice of the most cautious man he knows, our son and my father-in-law ran the risk of Jake hitting the second-most cautious man he knows in the head with a golf club.

I think they just forgot; I let it go.

This time.