I'm not much of a prankster, but the men in my family were and are. My dad took great pride in elaborate shenanigans, often enlisting my mother's help to pull them off. I remember attending a birthday party for my dad's friend and our neighbor, Clete, when I was a kid. Dad and Mom had offered to bring the birthday cake. My parents showed up with a beautifully decorated large, square cake and could hardly wait until the "Happy Birthday" song was over so that Clete could cut into their creation. Clete raised his knife in anticipation, but when he lowered it through the frosting, his knife stuck. He wiggled it. He jiggled it. Nothing worked. After several moments of total confusion, Clete scraped away the frosting and found not a soft, delicious cake underneath but, instead, a hard cardboard box. It was the box I used for my ice skates, to be specific. The crowd roared with laughter while my dad feigned ignorance, but Clete was familiar with Dad's penchant for pranks. "Charlieeeeee!" he yelled, waving the now-freed knife in the air toward my dad.

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