Mike Cox It seems the gods have something against the 3 Rivers Music Festival. Friday night there was rain. The wind blew Saturday, and it was freezing Sunday. I couldn’t deal with the rain on Friday but did go Sunday. When Buddy Guy and Koko Taylor play, I’ll go to Alaska to listen.

During Buddy Guy’s performance, I got the shock of my life. He sang a song about a little dog who lost part of his tail to a train while crossing the tracks. When he tried to retrieve the piece of tail, his head was severed by a second train.

When I was a teenager, my father used the same story to help me make wise choices about sex. The idea of my dad and Buddy Guy on the same wavelength is incomprehensible.

George Cox was a typical ’60s dad. I learned much from him, most of it way after he quit trying to teach me. The older I got, the smarter he became. But he wasn’t cool. I’m sure I’m not considered cool by my sons and I know my grandson thinks his own father is hopelessly out of touch. It is the way of parents and children.

Not long after Dad died, a close friend from high school mentioned how much he learned from my father. He talked of all the times my dad would say something profound often while doing ordinary things.

His meaning of integrity, how you behave when no one is watching, was shared with my friend while cooking pancakes one Sunday morning. Mike shared the story with his son and grandson in later years. He felt my dad was more in touch with us than his own father. Several of my friends thought Dad was a pretty cool guy.

I treasure much of what I learned from my father. I worshipped him and tried to emulate him in many ways. I give him full credit for every good thing I’ve ever done, and he’s mostly responsible for what I am today. Still, I am guilty of making light of his ways, and I never considered him to be cool. I guess I was too close to appreciate his talent.

I sat in the back and listened to Buddy Guy’s talent Sunday evening and when he made me think of my own father, I wondered if his own children appreciate how great he really is. Maybe they think he is just their goofy dad. Many of us who appreciate his work consider him one of the coolest people on the planet.

My dad came into this world long before cool was an adjective. He was responsible, honest, caring, intelligent, talented, and witty. He could relate to people all along life’s spectrum with equal success and tell a story better than anyone.

But if he tells stories based on Buddy Guy songs, then I must reassess him. By the time the concert ended last Sunday, I saw my father in a little different way. He really was a pretty cool guy.