With the holiday season here, I went trolling through old pictures, trying to find a snapshot that might go with a present I was wrapping for my two children.

I stopped short when I found my favorite photo of daughter Julie and me together. It’s not an aw-shucks-cute pic. It’s certainly not one that Parents magazine would reprint in a feature on role models — but it reminded me of who my daughter (now almost 23) is — and why she, and her brother Nick, have taught me so much over the years.

I must have stared at that photo for what seemed like a half-hour. Eighteen years later, it felt like I remembered every second of that afternoon.

The picture? Julie and I are sitting up on the backrests of benches in the infield at Santa Anita Race Track. Our feet are firmly planted on the seats, where normal people would plant their butts.

I’m studying the Racing Form and 4-year-old Jules is intently looking over my shoulder.

“Number 4 to show,” came my daughter’s reply once I asked her what horse she liked and how she wanted to bet. “Number 4 to show” before every race.

Her horses pretty much ran out that day. She’d ask after each race: “How did I do?” She had no concept of what show meant, and in some races wasn’t sure where her horse finished.

But we always gave Julie good news …

“You won a dollar!” we told her after each race. By the time the afternoon ended, my 4-year-old handicapper had come out $9 ahead (even though I lost $18 on her behalf).

Shortly after dwelling on that track pic, I stumbled on a photo of my 5-year-old son Nick playing soccer. He was coached by longtime friend Bud Cassell first year, and the picture was hilarious: Nick was a full shoulder and head taller than everyone else on the field.

His team was the Ninja Turtles, but we remember calling them Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

Nick loved soccer, until his younger sister started to excel in the sport. Then he wouldn’t talk about it for 15 years.

While Julie was loving every second on the soccer field, she paid no attention to Nick and baseball.

Now, with each having lives apart as young adults, a remarkable thing has happened this holiday season. They each asked the other, “How are you doing?”

Plus, Julie is now a San Francisco Giants fan and Nick is following the MLS Portland Timber.

I never thought I’d see the day they’d cross over.

But here’s the real cool part, thanks to those two pictures, I set sail on a couple of days of intense reflection about how lucky Debbie and I are to have these two kids — and how proud we are of them.

I never got to write about either when they were each part of Sac-Joaquin Section-winning teams at Davis High — or when they excelled in sports at Loyola Marymount and UCD. (Which is just as well, because I couldn’t have done it anyway — and they would have been mortified.)

However, I realized that every ounce of energy I bring to writing sports for this newspaper comes from the learning experience they provided me over the years.

I realized that youth sports should be covered with care, for playing on these teams is a learning experience.

I realized how important the time as a youthful competitor can be for a kid and his/her family — and that the experience should always be fun. If the athletes learn something along the way, even better.

Nick and Julie taught me how to be a better person. (Shh, don’t tell ‘em, they’ll want something.)

For that I am grateful.

So, in closing, I guess my point here is — besides saying thank you to my children for who they are — sometime before the New Year rings in, you might want to go to the old box full of photos and start sifting through.

Bring tissues. Tears come with revisiting the little tykes — and renewing your pride.

— Bruce Gallaudet is a staff writer for The Davis Enterprise. Reach him at [email protected] or (530) 747-8047.

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