While everyone else was reminiscing about parachute pants and psycho-analyzing the late Michael Jackson, my kids latched onto a different story they heard on TV: The president smokes.

"Creed!,'' I heard Lily yell from another room. "Obama smokes!''

"He's the president!'' she said later, reporting this disturbing news to her grandmother. I guess she missed this news story when it came up before his election. But President Obama was re-interviewed on the subject, and admitted he still slips up and smokes now and then. He called himself 95 percent cured.

"He might die!'' was the conclusion that Lily lept to. A conclusion which is true, of course. He certainly will die, eventually.

One of the president's comments was this: “I don't do it in front of my kids,” he said. “I don't do it in front of my family.''

Well he might as welll have just smoked in front of every child in America. I didn't bother with the explanation about the president not being perfect. He is supposed to be a role model, a mere mortal or not.

On another note, I met a guy at the gas station Monday morning who had just run out of gas. It was raining (of course), and he was putting gas into a tiny gas container. I asked if he needed a ride to his car, and he said, "Oh, no, no, no. That's my son over there.'' Then he said he planned to use the drive to his gas-less car to give his son a talking to, because he'd gotten no Father's Day card from him this year.

"I don't care how poor you are,'' the guy said to me. "You can get your dad a Father's Day card.''

Amen to that. (And click here to be reminded about the day that in our household can now be known as I-Didn't-Get-A-Mother's-Day-Card Day.)

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