My dad was in the Air Force for 23 years. For about 22 of those years, I lived at home and followed him around the world spreading democracy like seeds in the wind. When we lived in Mississippi, on the Vicksburg Army Corps of Engineers station, dad had an office with a nice big desk and cool chair. One day, my brother and I were waiting for him to get out of a meeting and were sitting in his office looking for rubber bands to shoot at things. We were in high school, and therefore into making trouble.
We found dad’s CLASSIFIED stamp and the red ink and decided that more things in dad’s office needed to be top-secret. We stamped his yellow Post-It notes, his stationary, his paper airplane, a brochure for some timeshare condo and a napkin. Dad came in, surveying the CLASSIFIED damage, put his hands on his hips and in his best dad voice said, “Not funny”.
For Father’s Day that year, we got my dad a NOT FUNNY stamp and some blue ink.
