My Dad Killed My Math Teacher
The last words to come from my math teacher’s lips were, “Gabe is a really good kid.”
It was open school night and I was in the sixth grade.
I was home, watching TV with my sister, and all of the parents in the neighborhood were walking from classroom to classroom.
My dad introduced himself to my math teacher. They shook hands.
Immediately after saying, “Gabe is a really good kid,” my math teacher dropped to the floor like Sonny Liston.
He died right there at my dad’s feet. Massive heart attack.
Hopefully, they’re up there now, laughing about it.
But probably not.
In all likelihood, they see each other from time to time in Heaven’s Cafeteria. It’s a 24-hour joint. They politely nod, but that’s about it.
My math teacher sits at a table with his family and my dad sits with ours.
Jimi Hendrix is hanging with Jesus at an adjacent table.
Jesus gets hit with a spitball and says, “Hey, what the…?”
My dad keeps his classic straight face and avoids making contact with the big guy.
Jesus silently forgives him.
And so have I, for every time he got mad at me, my mom, or my sister for apparently no justified reason.
I now know he was doing the best he could at the time.
“In Live Like a Fruit Fly, Gabe Berman shares his recipe for living a more joyful, worthwhile, and abundant life in every way. A witty, entertaining, and insightful read.” — Deepak Chopra, Author, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success