I have a dream

I love June. June is my third favourite month after July and December. July is my first choice because my birthday falls in that month, but more important, that is when we usually take our family vacation. December is second on my list. For obvious reasons you may be thinking that the happiest time of the year falls in that month –Christmas. Well you are sorely mistaken. I like December because I like frostbite. Nothing makes you feel more alive.

But back to June – June is a time where I dust off my golf clubs, decide which courses I want to play on and then proceed to put them back in storage. You see, wanting to play golf and actually getting to play golf is a whole other matter in itself. We Burgos’ just don’t have the time. Between football, hip hop dance, driver’s ed, the cabin and a full time job, there just isn’t time for golf. However this year, with the boys being a bit older, I may just sneak them out and play a round or two. Who knows, maybe I’m raising the next Tiger, just minus the scandals.

June is also a time where the sun greets me earlier in the morning. Nothing beats getting up at six in the morning with the sun beating down on my face. Love it!

In terms of entertainment, it’s when all the big movie blockbusters start showing up in theatres. This year Iron Man 2and Shrek: Forever After have made tons of money and will continue to do so through the month.

Also important to note, Father’s Day falls in June. For me, there is something very special about Father’s Day, more so, than my birthday. It’s a day when I can sit back and enjoy the fruits of my labour. It’s a day that says “Thank You Dad” for all the driving, fighting and clean ups that we put you through this past year. Five kids over, I think I deserve it. Here is how the perfect Father’s Day should play out for me:

The alarm clock changes its WAAA WAAAA WAAAAA scary as heck tone to the soothing calm sounds of the ocean waves lapping against the white sand beach shore. The playful sounds of dolphins in the distance greet me as I awake from my slumber. The snooze button massages my hand with the precision of a well-seasoned massage therapist.

I get out of bed and my butler puts on my slippers and covers me with my cushy robe warmed to exactly 86 degrees. I look in the bathroom mirror and my face is already perfectly shaven. I take the escalator down to the main floor and find the Head Chef from Hotel Fort Garry in the midst of preparing a morning breakfast buffet consisting of sausage and eggs Benedict smothered with hollandaise sauce, crisp bacon, lightly buttered toast and omelettes made to order.

After breakfast is taken away, my butler washes my hands with spring water imported from the untouched mountain ranges of the Himalayas.

My personal golf instructor meets me in the backyard, which happens to be a championship 18-hole course designed by Arnold Palmer. I take a few swings with my gold plated irons. Each time, without any effort at all, the ball flies gracefully and lands within inches of the hole on every green. On the 18^th hole, I naturally shoot a hole in one, as I do every Father’s Day – it’s tradition after all. My instructor indicates that I don’t need him to help with my game, but I insist that he stay on as my caddy.

For dinner, my personal Lear Jet flies my wife, Lizabeth, and me to a small town in the South of France where we dine by the moonlight on a secluded yet posh restaurant on the side of a mountain overlooking the sea. Yo Yo Ma plays the cello while Coldplay serenades us with their hits Clocks and Fix You.

As it nears midnight, we drift asleep in a bed of $100 bills.

A man can dream, right?

Dale Burgos manages the communication department for a Winnipeg school division and would be more than happy getting a new golf bag for Father’s Day. He doesn’t ask for much.

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