When enough is enough

The hockey program here sucks, from The Boy's league all the way up to the junior program from which we house a player.

It is the one area in which I most regret moving to this city.

When Paul returned home from Christmas break, his parents came with him and stayed a few days. We wouldn't have known he had returned, except for the fact that when we woke up one morning his car was gone. After two days, we called the coach who in turn had Paul call us. I would blame his parents, except I'm sure he lied and told them we knew he was with them.

His mom sat with me at the game one night, and I let her have it with both barrels. After all, if my son was living away from home with another family and was not behaving, I'd want to know. We talked about everything from his wearing filthy clothes, to him showing up at curfew to eat dinner in my clean kitchen, to him having no less than 50 pounds of bottles in his room half of which are filled with the spit from chewing tobacco.

I berated the coach for not supporting the billet parents, for not making the players work or go to school in their off hours from hockey, and for not making them participate in the community and the hockey programs of the younger children.

I may have stepped over the line when I told her I don't appreciate how Paul talks to them on the phone. He is rude and he is a spoiled brat. She didn't appear alarmed at all, and blamed his dad for handing him everything on a silver platter.

Then I told her that the one reason we do this is to have a positive role model for The Boy, and I don't feel we are meeting this with Paul.

We have had four admirable young men live with us.

I have already informed the organization that if Paul returns to play next year, he isn't welcome at our home.

In fact, we may decide we are through housing players period.