B.B. King sung the song "The Thrill Is Gone", but I remember my dad singing it more than I remember King singing it. He hummed that tune to himself a lot, especially when he was feeling down. My father personified blues music, not only was he a great singer and guitarist, but he also lived a the life of a hard working black man, which, if you know anything about being a hard working black man anywhere, is definitely cause for a blue outlook on life. Everyday, after gulping down a cup of black coffee, eating a hearty breakfast and smoking a few cigarettes, Dad was off to work. He never complained about work; he got up everyday and did his job. And then, after coming home and checking on me (my Dad always checked on me, even when he knew I was alright) dad would venture down the hall, singing those immortal words, "the thrill is gone, the thrill is gone away..." Eventually I started to listen to blues music on my own because I wanted so much to be like my Dad; he just seemed to have so much more character than other people and I wanted to be memorable like him. I wanted to be...different. My Dad didn't realize it at the time, but he was actually teaching me a very important lesson about life. Life is a series of thrills that come and go. Sure, you go to the party; you have your fun. Then you wake up the next day with a headache and tears in your eyes, wondering when the next party will materialize. You drink the booze; it slides down your throat and makes you feel invincible. Then you wake up naked the next day in a bathtub, feeling more vulnerable than ever before. Sure, you make it with that woman; you sleep together and you feel on top of the world. Then you wake up and she has gone back to her life without you, as if you the two of you had never met. You go to beach only to realize it is polluted. You go to Starbucks only to realize that all that money cannot even buy you a decent cup of coffee. You go to the movies and you wonder, "why did I used to think this was fun? why did I waste most of my childhood gazing at an overpriced screen?" Then you go on vacation to get away from it all and you wonder, "what am I running from exactly? why does my normal life make me feel so abnormal?" Because the thrill is gone, long gone. You have already been there. You have already done that. You are over it now. Then you realize your friends are still obsessed with all of that stuff. The people around you never really grew up, but you did. You are grown. You had your share of thrills, but they just do not provide with you with anything beneficial anymore. Then you go home and check up on your kid. You see them smiling bright as they watch some cartoon you used to think was hilarious that now you think is just silly. The kid laughs uproariously as you roll your eyes and start to laugh too. And there the two of you are laughing together at a cartoon you think is actually quite stupid. You laugh and laugh and laugh, harder than you have in years. Then, as you're walking down the hall, after checking up on your child, you realize why you miss your Dad so much. Yes, the thrill is long gone and so is my Dad, but I am alive and well, and so is my son.