Fathers and sons--a tale of two cultures

Walt and I have been best buddies for over 30 years now. We met when each of us was doing a workshop on writing at the same learning event. We got acquainted by attending each other's presentations. The logic that we should combine forces quickly asserted itself. We have been both working successfully together and enjoying each other ever since. 

Despite the beards and graying topsides we have in common, our diversity is our delight. I am an AM person and Walt is a PM person, so when we would do a weekend workshop, we could give our participants 24 hour, round-the-clock coaching. Walt perpetually makes love to his creations; I love 'em and leave 'em. When we collaborate, Walt carefully grows his garden and prunes literary fruit trees; I load the jackass and make sure the produce gets to market. I was a lonely child, while he had to make Dostoyevsky with multiple siblings. My ancestors arrived at Ellis Island; his at Plymouth Rock.

We once compared our fathers at their moments of irritation. When displeased Walt's dad would stand with arms crossed, frown and not say a word; my dad would yell from the rafters. The message was the same if you were the focus of displeasure--"Stop it now!"