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June 13, 2010 - Jennifer Brookens
Some familes turn to therapy, to Faith, or just take a few days to get away from it all. Our family takes out its frustrations when a member is "volunteered" for the dunk tank.
One of the joys of both my husband and I having a job in the public eye is that sometimes we're asked to volunteer with local fundraisers and other good causes. Normally, it's painless and even fun. But my husband was leery when asked to be a dunk tank member at this past weekend's "JohnFest." But being a good sport, both he and his work-partner volunteered.
Luckily, it was nice and sunny still when it was my husband's turn. His work partner went first and, of course, he had to dunk her. So once my husband was seated over the tank, she was the first one up, buying a whole bucket worth of baseballs for $10. She even lent a few to my daughter, and wouldn't you know - my daughter is the first to dunk Daddy.
Since it was a good cause (and OK, I have a bit of a devious streak) I too bought the whole bucket in an act of bravado. Trouble is, I couldn't hit the wide side of a barn.
"Gee honey," he would mock me every time I missed. "Think of the nice gift you could've bought me with those balls your wasting..." Miss! Again and again! I'm starting to boil when my little two-year old toddles in front of me... He grabs one of my lost balls, then just pushes on the dunk button.
But not completely satisfied, I have one ball left. I wait until my husband's back on the bench. I get close. One last whack. And down he goes again.
But he remained a good sport. In fact when he got out, he said, "I love you guys," and gave us all a big, wet hug.
Yeah, we're dysfunctional. But it works for us.
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Dan in the dunk tank