The two of us were at a Waffle House in Birmingham on Mother's Day, 1999. I still lived in the Magic City and The Woman Who's Garbage I Wasn't Yet Responsible For was in town for a visit.

I had already given my mother her favorite gift; a call from her first-born. Our plan was to visit Oak Mountain State Park and check out some rocks, waterfalls, and lizards. We decided to get breakfast on the way.

The place was much like any Waffle House early on a Sunday morning; not really busy, but active enough to keep the staff moving. Our waitress was young; she appeared to be about eleven to me. I'm pretty sure she was older. The hard edges were just starting to show around her eyes, but she was efficient and professional.

While we were waiting on our scattered and smothered hash browns, she received a personal phone call. It was obvious by her behavior, and the behavior of the other waitresses, that such a thing was frowned on.

The phone was in the back, but she pulled the cord into the serving area, so she could keep an eye on her customers. From the one end of the conversation we could hear, her husband was home and wanted her to call her mother and get him a free baby sitter so he could go play golf. Just after hanging the telephone up, she exhibited a brief bit of unhappiness; a small crack in her otherwise professional demeanor.

Anyone familiar with my column knows I lament the absence of fathers in today's society. It is a pet peeve of mine, and explains part of the mess we all live in. I hope I've never given anyone the idea fathers are without blame for those circumstances.

A major reason things are as they are is because of guys like the dimwit on the other end of the young waitress' telephone. If fathers had taken more responsibility and fought harder for their rights, women wouldn't have felt the need to erase them from their children's lives over the past three decades.

It dawned on me this guy was trying to ruin Mother's Day for two women who should have been important in his life, all for a round of golf. Selfishness is never pretty, but sometimes it is embarrassing. I felt sorry for the young waitress and ashamed for the male race.

It's bad enough for a young mother to have to work on her day, it's worse when it involves waiting on snarly, unhappy people, and it is inexcusable when the idiot she's trying to help support is making things worse by being stupid and selfish. He should be grateful she's chosen to allow him to share her life.

As we left, I handed her a twenty and said, "Happy Mother's Day." She looked bewildered but was too busy to protest or ask for an explanation. I wish I could have afforded twenty thousand. She deserved it.