Today’s story is from Pat McMahon.

I’m sure you know the story of “Beauty and the Beast.” But what you probably don’t know is… I’m their son.

No, I don’t mean the couple in the children’s story. But, it would have been perfectly appropriate to call my parents Beauty and the Beast because that’s the way they talked about themselves.

Pat teaching his dad Jack a thing or two, age 5.

You see, before my father and mother met and went into the entertainment business, my dad was a prizefighter — a professional boxer with over 90 fights. Back in those days, they didn’t check personal information very carefully, so he was able to get into the fight game when he was 14 years old.

He had a pretty impressive record too, but it was at the expense of his face — layers of scar tissue that built up on his brow, a nose broken so many times it spread in multiple directions. How he ever heard anything through the tiny pinholes of his “Cauliflower” ears is a wonder.

And then there was my mom, The Beauty. She was the essence of the song “Tiny Dancer.” Mom was a petite ballerina, a tap dancer, a skilled acrobat. READ MORE