these are wise words that i couldn??t phrase i a better way...
...what a weird question anyway...
HarveyCanal"a distraction from my main thesis." 13,234 Posts
It is interesting to me that most all of you guys who have responded hold your father in the highest regard. Both my parents and my brother do not view their fathers in this way.
Okay, you want some dirt...you know I've got it for you.
My dad was/is strong...worked on steamships like some sort of genius superhero, ran the Boston Marathon, bigtime hunter dude, etc.
But he was/is also quite an asshole. We had our common interests which created a whole lot of good times between us, but I probably spent more time trying to avoid his wrath than anything else I ever did growing up.
He was the kind of dad who showed an interest in me playing sports by badgering me after a game in which I scored 2 touchdowns and we won by 20 points about the one block I missed. Think Great Santini type all the way.
But I clearly remember when the tides turned on him even bothering to bully me anymore. When I was a junior in high school I played on this half-joke nightime baseball team. But I dislocated my shoulder in a fight and couldn't play any more. But I still wanted to go to the games to watch. So one Tuesday night I went to watch my teammates play with my then girlfriend. Afterwards we went back to her house (just around the corner from my house) for a very short time and then I walked home. When I got there, I sat down at the kitchen table to eat something and my dad came in and started questioning me about where I had been. I didn't think I had done anything wrong, so I just told him that I went to the game, stopped at my girl's house, and came home. He then started taking issue with me going to my girlfriend's house.
"You didn't tell us you were going over there."
"It wasn't really planned."
"Why didn't you call when you got there?"
"Because I was only there for like 10 minutes and I didn't think it was that big a deal".
"Well, it is a big deal."
"Whatever."
*SMACK*
The dumb fool hit me upside the head. I just kinda took it, got up from the table, walked out of the house, walked over to my girlfriend's house, called another friend to pick me up, and spent the night over there.
I decided not to go to school the next day as I didn't even have clothes to change into. So when I return to my house that morning, my dad is basically waiting to pounce on me. Except this time (and no, he had never really hit me before that night...as verbal intimidation typically did the trick for him), I'm not having any of it. I remember we kinda got into a skirmish and it was all me...to the point where this look of realization came over him, where it was like I could have crushed him if I wanted to...yet I held up and walked away from him. And from that point on, he changed.
Actually, he didnt change one bit. It just became much easier to blow him off knowing full well between us that if the shit ever really did hit the fan, he was definitely going to be the one taking the fall.
There you go, dads are a mixed bag. Wish I could categorically worship mine, but oh well.
The cavalier spirit with which I took my dad pestering me beyond that fateful face-off culminated in a funny story (at least funny to me).
The morining after senior prom...I get home just before noon. I had just spent the night with my girlfriend and another couple in a hotel room (never able to do anything like that before prom rolled around) and even by noon I was still buzzing quite heavily from the couple of ecstacy pills I had taken the night before. So I get home and my dad wants to ask me about whether or not I'm planning to go to church. My first response was just a plain: no, it's too late. But he continues to pressure me, as if I give a shit about going to church...so I just had to break it to him as bluntly as it could be broke.
"Dad, I don't even believe in God."
I swear that man's jaw dropped to the floor so damned fast it was pure comedy. Seriously, I shattered his entire sense of reality with 7 words.
I do believe in God though...maybe not under the influence of x at the age of 17, but normally yes.
Call me a bad son, but I must say that it was so worth it to sock it to the man like that.
My pops used to be able bench press 350 when he was in the service, but he's 60 now and has only one leg. I think I could take him.
As far as inner strength, he's been through hell, so I don't know if I'll ever have to deal with the things he has. I hope I'd be able to handle it with such grace.
As for wisdom, he's always been a bit of a simple man. Not in a bad way, but he struggles with nuance and considering many viewpoints before reacting and making decisions. But he was light years beyond his father, who was a mean son of a bitch that liked to drink, beat his kids, and tell them they were idiots who wouldn't amount to anything. I have no love for that grandfather. But he's dead, so that account's paid.
My dad is a guy that I didn???t really appreciate until I became a father. He was the Dad that all my friends wish they had,while I took him for granted. He was a construction worker in NYC. He was a tough dude at 5:11 and 280 lbs. of muscle. He worked outdoors almost all his life and has the rough skin and gnarled hands to prove it.
He was the guy who always coached the Baseball/Basketball teams I was on. He was the guy that piled all the neighborhood kids into his car to take them fishing or to a Mets or Nets game. He was old school and opinionated but was always honest with me.
When I was about 13 he told me we were going for a ride which was his way of saying we needed to have a man to man talk. He told me in great gory detail about his childhood friend Leo who was now a heroin addict. He painted a picture so ugly I wanted to jump out of the car. Then he told me that he knew if I wasn???t drinking already that I would be soon, and that I should do it at home, not in the streets. He then told me the same thing about smoking dope???..but said if I EVER thought about doing anything else I should come see him first and we would go spend some time with Leo. None of my other friends parents spoke to them this way.
I was a wise ass punk???..never got into serious trouble but could talk shit with the best of them and on occasion had to back it up. One day I talked shit to the wrong guy, my Dad. I was about 16 and he told me that ???We???re going out to the Garage and only one of us is coming out???. Once in the garage he told me to take my best shot. I knew better, this man could KILL me, so I refused. He gave me one more chance and then hauled off with a fist to my jaw. It hurt. He then told me to hit him back or I was a pussy. I took my best shot which I???m sure had little effect. He looked at me, said ???Not bad??? and invited me back in the house. He went to the refrigerator, handed me a beer, and we have never had a cross word since.
There was the time I was about 13 and asked him permission to go steal some corn from the neighbors little farm. ???he said ???Look you dumb ass, you just do it and if you get caught pay the consequences. Don???t ask me for permission because now I have to send you to your room for the night???.
Or the time it was ???Senior Cut Day??? at school and as my friends and I passed the school on the way to Jones Beach with a cooler of beer, there???s my Dad in the school parking lot swilling Bud with the neighborhood kids. To this day he runs into men who remembered and appreciate all the things he did for them, things their own parents wouldn???t do.
He???s 72 now and still a tough SOB???.he???ll hustle you at pool and drink your ass under the table. Since he was a kid he???s flown pigeons, a very Brooklynese pastime. For his last birthday I wrote an article about him and his passion for pigeons which I submitted to ???Purebred Pigeon??? magazine. Much to my delight they printed it a few months later and I was finally able to let folks know what I think of my Dad. While I don???t think he would admit it, he was pleased and maybe even a little embarrassed about the article. Now all his crusty old pigeon buddies call him ???The Celebrity???. And I think he realizes I did it to show him the appreciation I have for all he???s done for me. And now all of you know too.
One more thing I'd like to share that some of you parents and parents to be might appreciate.
I got my first job when I was 15. As soon as I was working I had to pay rent to live in my house. $50 a week. All my friends made fun of me and said how outrageous it was.
When I was 17 I moved out.....the day I left my Dad handed me a check. It was in the full amount of every penny I had payed in "rent".
He explained that it was his way of preparing me for the real world.
i can probably lift more, but my dad packs a better punch. if he could catch me, it might be game over. he hasn't been able to beat me at hoops since i was about 14 though. so i got that going for me.
Big_Stacks"I don't worry about hittin' power, cause I don't give 'em nuttin' to hit." 4,670 Posts
My dad is a guy that I didn???t really appreciate until I became a father. He was the Dad that all my friends wish they had,while I took him for granted. He was a construction worker in NYC. He was a tough dude at 5:11 and 280 lbs. of muscle. He worked outdoors almost all his life and has the rough skin and gnarled hands to prove it.
He was the guy who always coached the Baseball/Basketball teams I was on. He was the guy that piled all the neighborhood kids into his car to take them fishing or to a Mets or Nets game. He was old school and opinionated but was always honest with me.
When I was about 13 he told me we were going for a ride which was his way of saying we needed to have a man to man talk. He told me in great gory detail about his childhood friend Leo who was now a heroin addict. He painted a picture so ugly I wanted to jump out of the car. Then he told me that he knew if I wasn???t drinking already that I would be soon, and that I should do it at home, not in the streets. He then told me the same thing about smoking dope???..but said if I EVER thought about doing anything else I should come see him first and we would go spend some time with Leo. None of my other friends parents spoke to them this way.
I was a wise ass punk???..never got into serious trouble but could talk shit with the best of them and on occasion had to back it up. One day I talked shit to the wrong guy, my Dad. I was about 16 and he told me that ???We???re going out to the Garage and only one of us is coming out???. Once in the garage he told me to take my best shot. I knew better, this man could KILL me, so I refused. He gave me one more chance and then hauled off with a fist to my jaw. It hurt. He then told me to hit him back or I was a pussy. I took my best shot which I???m sure had little effect. He looked at me, said ???Not bad??? and invited me back in the house. He went to the refrigerator, handed me a beer, and we have never had a cross word since.
There was the time I was about 13 and asked him permission to go steal some corn from the neighbors little farm. ???he said ???Look you dumb ass, you just do it and if you get caught pay the consequences. Don???t ask me for permission because now I have to send you to your room for the night???.
Or the time it was ???Senior Cut Day??? at school and as my friends and I passed the school on the way to Jones Beach with a cooler of beer, there???s my Dad in the school parking lot swilling Bud with the neighborhood kids. To this day he runs into men who remembered and appreciate all the things he did for them, things their own parents wouldn???t do.
He???s 72 now and still a tough SOB???.he???ll hustle you at pool and drink your ass under the table. Since he was a kid he???s flown pigeons, a very Brooklynese pastime. For his last birthday I wrote an article about him and his passion for pigeons which I submitted to ???Purebred Pigeon??? magazine. Much to my delight they printed it a few months later and I was finally able to let folks know what I think of my Dad. While I don???t think he would admit it, he was pleased and maybe even a little embarrassed about the article. Now all his crusty old pigeon buddies call him ???The Celebrity???. And I think he realizes I did it to show him the appreciation I have for all he???s done for me. And now all of you know too.
Hey Rock,
This pretty much sums up my dad, sans the drinking part since he doesn't drink. But, pops was the "cool dad" in the neigborhood, always acted as a father figure to kids around the way. He was strict yet wise and loving, which I hated as a kid, but when I become a man I truly appreciated how he raised me. He taught me and my brother how to be responsible by making us EARN the shit we got. We had to buy our own cars (as teenagers), buy school clothes, get good grades, work during the summer (instead of lounging around), and so on. He was also a master at teaching a tough lesson like the time I was stranded at the gym (in a thunderstorm) because I lost my keys. He had been bugging me for months about getting spare car keys made but my dumb ass wouldn't listen. So, in response to my call home, stranded outside the gym because it had closed for the evening he replied, "N***a please" and hung up. Mom eventually came out to pick me up (and called the locksmith to make me some new keys), but pops lesson was well-learned: Handle your business. Gotta love pops!!!
I play hockey with my Dad every week. At 64, he's still able to play the game and although he has NEVER been able to shoot the puck, his ability to always cut off onrushing attackers and block shots/passes is amazing and impresses the most talented young players that come through our game.
Sometimes I'll check him hard with a combination of goofing around/payback for childhood (he never beat me but, although we are very close now, we had some crazed battles when I was a kid that I always lost) - and if I push it a little far and realize I am using too much force on an older and - although fit - weaker man, I feel terrible, I would never mean to hurt him.
Once I saw a younger player go after him, swinging his stick wildly at my Dad, and I almost lost it. It's a good thing some other guys jumped in and grabbed the guy before I got there - seeing my Dad under attack set off the most basic, primal rage in me - it was kind of scary.
Comments
these are wise words that i couldn??t phrase i a better way...
...what a weird question anyway...
The cavalier spirit with which I took my dad pestering me beyond that fateful face-off culminated in a funny story (at least funny to me).
The morining after senior prom...I get home just before noon. I had just spent the night with my girlfriend and another couple in a hotel room (never able to do anything like that before prom rolled around) and even by noon I was still buzzing quite heavily from the couple of ecstacy pills I had taken the night before. So I get home and my dad wants to ask me about whether or not I'm planning to go to church. My first response was just a plain: no, it's too late. But he continues to pressure me, as if I give a shit about going to church...so I just had to break it to him as bluntly as it could be broke.
"Dad, I don't even believe in God."
I swear that man's jaw dropped to the floor so damned fast it was pure comedy. Seriously, I shattered his entire sense of reality with 7 words.
I do believe in God though...maybe not under the influence of x at the age of 17, but normally yes.
Call me a bad son, but I must say that it was so worth it to sock it to the man like that.
As far as inner strength, he's been through hell, so I don't know if I'll ever have to deal with the things he has. I hope I'd be able to handle it with such grace.
As for wisdom, he's always been a bit of a simple man. Not in a bad way, but he struggles with nuance and considering many viewpoints before reacting and making decisions. But he was light years beyond his father, who was a mean son of a bitch that liked to drink, beat his kids, and tell them they were idiots who wouldn't amount to anything. I have no love for that grandfather. But he's dead, so that account's paid.
He was the guy who always coached the Baseball/Basketball teams I was on. He was the guy that piled all the neighborhood kids into his car to take them fishing or to a Mets or Nets game. He was old school and opinionated but was always honest with me.
When I was about 13 he told me we were going for a ride which was his way of saying we needed to have a man to man talk. He told me in great gory detail about his childhood friend Leo who was now a heroin addict. He painted a picture so ugly I wanted to jump out of the car. Then he told me that he knew if I wasn???t drinking already that I would be soon, and that I should do it at home, not in the streets. He then told me the same thing about smoking dope???..but said if I EVER thought about doing anything else I should come see him first and we would go spend some time with Leo. None of my other friends parents spoke to them this way.
I was a wise ass punk???..never got into serious trouble but could talk shit with the best of them and on occasion had to back it up. One day I talked shit to the wrong guy, my Dad. I was about 16 and he told me that ???We???re going out to the Garage and only one of us is coming out???. Once in the garage he told me to take my best shot. I knew better, this man could KILL me, so I refused. He gave me one more chance and then hauled off with a fist to my jaw. It hurt. He then told me to hit him back or I was a pussy. I took my best shot which I???m sure had little effect. He looked at me, said ???Not bad??? and invited me back in the house. He went to the refrigerator, handed me a beer, and we have never had a cross word since.
There was the time I was about 13 and asked him permission to go steal some corn from the neighbors little farm. ???he said ???Look you dumb ass, you just do it and if you get caught pay the consequences. Don???t ask me for permission because now I have to send you to your room for the night???.
Or the time it was ???Senior Cut Day??? at school and as my friends and I passed the school on the way to Jones Beach with a cooler of beer, there???s my Dad in the school parking lot swilling Bud with the neighborhood kids. To this day he runs into men who remembered and appreciate all the things he did for them, things their own parents wouldn???t do.
He???s 72 now and still a tough SOB???.he???ll hustle you at pool and drink your ass under the table. Since he was a kid he???s flown pigeons, a very Brooklynese pastime. For his last birthday I wrote an article about him and his passion for pigeons which I submitted to ???Purebred Pigeon??? magazine. Much to my delight they printed it a few months later and I was finally able to let folks know what I think of my Dad. While I don???t think he would admit it, he was pleased and maybe even a little embarrassed about the article. Now all his crusty old pigeon buddies call him ???The Celebrity???. And I think he realizes I did it to show him the appreciation I have for all he???s done for me. And now all of you know too.
I got my first job when I was 15. As soon as I was working I had to pay rent to live in my house. $50 a week. All my friends made fun of me and said how outrageous it was.
When I was 17 I moved out.....the day I left my Dad handed me a check. It was in the full amount of every penny I had payed in "rent".
He explained that it was his way of preparing me for the real world.
It was genius.
My dad @ 63 is stronger than me.
He's a tough guy.
Hey Rock,
This pretty much sums up my dad, sans the drinking part since he doesn't drink. But, pops was the "cool dad" in the neigborhood, always acted as a father figure to kids around the way. He was strict yet wise and loving, which I hated as a kid, but when I become a man I truly appreciated how he raised me. He taught me and my brother how to be responsible by making us EARN the shit we got. We had to buy our own cars (as teenagers), buy school clothes, get good grades, work during the summer (instead of lounging around), and so on. He was also a master at teaching a tough lesson like the time I was stranded at the gym (in a thunderstorm) because I lost my keys. He had been bugging me for months about getting spare car keys made but my dumb ass wouldn't listen. So, in response to my call home, stranded outside the gym because it had closed for the evening he replied, "N***a please" and hung up. Mom eventually came out to pick me up (and called the locksmith to make me some new keys), but pops lesson was well-learned: Handle your business. Gotta love pops!!!
Peace,
Big Stacks from Kakalak
able to play the game and although he has NEVER been able to
shoot the puck, his ability to always cut off onrushing
attackers and block shots/passes is amazing and impresses
the most talented young players that come through our game.
Sometimes I'll check him hard with a combination of goofing
around/payback for childhood (he never beat me but, although
we are very close now, we had some crazed battles when I was
a kid that I always lost) - and if I push it a little far and
realize I am using too much force on an older and - although fit -
weaker man, I feel terrible, I would never mean to hurt him.
Once I saw a younger player go after him, swinging his stick wildly
at my Dad, and I almost lost it. It's a good thing some other guys jumped
in and grabbed the guy before I got there - seeing my Dad under attack
set off the most basic, primal rage in me - it was kind of scary.