Stag November 1980 -

"To Jack!" roared Big Miller, his brother-in-law, hoisting a heavy glass mug. "The last man standing in the tool and die shop to finally get his wings clipped!"

"You okay, kid?" his father asked, leaning in. His breath smelled of peppermint and whiskey. "Just thinking about tomorrow," Jack lied. Stag November 1980

"Don't think," his father grunted, clapping a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Just show up. That’s ninety percent of the job. In the plant, and in the house." "To Jack

He realized then that this "stag" wasn't really about him. It was a rehearsal for a life of routines. The Friday night beers, the bowling league, the slow drift into the same comfortable, weary patterns he saw in his father's eyes across the table. "Just thinking about tomorrow," Jack lied