My father prides himself on being a very private person. He was like that while I was growing up and that hasn't changed even an iota in my adult life. He didn't tell me he had prostate cancer until his final treatment was done and the cancer was gone. He didn't tell me he was getting re-married until a week before the wedding, then he begged me to be in it. And until I was 35, I never saw him consume alcohol at home or in public--which makes the story I am about tell pretty funny...to me at least.

My dad, my Aunt Sharon, my brother and I were in the car on my way to my Aunt Sarah's funeral back in 2001. Sarah was a former White House cook who lived a long life, and died exactly one year after her husband of 60 years passed away. It sounds like a sad story, but considering she got to be with her husband again, there was almost a festive atmosphere surrounding the funeral. She had a damn good run.

So while all of us were in the car and my dad was making everyone listen to the Temptations as usual, he and Sharon were having a conversation in the front seat, and my brother and I were in the back talking about something. My dad would say something that was barely audible and loud ass Sharon would respond in boisterous fashion. My brother and I didn't necessarily want to hear their conversations, but once Sharon opened her mouth, we really had no choice. That was the dynamic in play in the car.

Out of nowhere, Sharon looks at my dad, and says, "Michael you still like to get you a little taste?"

**sidebar** For those of you not familiar with that particular usage of the vernacular, "get you a little taste" for people in my aunt and father's generation is the same as "get your drink on" for younger/current generations. I feel like I shouldn't have to explain that, but at a Christmas party one time, I asked a co-worker of mine if they could "bring me a plate", and instead of bringing back a plate full of food, they literally brought back an empty, white-ass plate--but that was my fault for assuming they were hip to the vernacular. I shall not make that mistake again. **sidebar over**

As SOON as my Aunt asked my father that question, my brother and I shut the hell up and perked up our ears to hear our dad's response. Up to that point, we had not seen him imbibe at all. We had seen beer and wine in and around the fridge, and we'd also seen alcohol in the garbage/recycling bins, but we hadn't actually seen him put mouth to bottle/glass, and it felt very intentional. Now here was his sister asking to him discuss his drinking habits in front of his previously-in-the-dark "children" (I was 26, my brother was 23).

First my father shot my Aunt the look of death, but she had already shifted her glance out of the window after asking the question, so she was oblivious to his quiet outrage. After a long pause he looked at her and said, "Sharon, do we really have to talk about this in front of "them?" Then she made it worse by first saying, "Oh please Michael!", then she looked back at my brother and me and said, "Y'all don't know your Daddy likes to get him a taste every now and then?"

We started to answer, but then we caught our father's scowls in the mirror, and for a minute we hesitated. Then I remembered that was 20 f**king 6 years old and grown enough to speak up (kind of), so I said, "We know but we've never seen it." There was a bit of a pause, and then my dad started laughing, then my aunt started laughing, and after my brother and I were absolutely sure that this laughter wasn't fleeting, we joined in on the laughter too.

After the laughter subsided, they went back to their conversations, my brother and I went back to ours, and that subject never came up again. Ten years later, my brother, my father, my oldest son Carlton and I went out to eat, my dad ordered a red wine we held a mock ceremony to commemorate the embargo being lifted. Now, he drinks freely in front of us, and we join in, like functioning adults.