Two years ago on March 4, 2006 my dad died. He was only 73 years old. That's him on the left delivering the Peterborough Examiner in the 1940's. Did somebody say cuffs?
He was not an educated man or
a wealthy man. He was a man of few words. The words he did chose were generally pretty fantastic.Instead of saying anything to vulgar in times of unbridled rage he liked to blurt out the word "Balls!" Like if he dropped a nail through the boards in the deck he might scream out "Balls!" instead of the more common "Shit" or "Mofo" common to fathers of more recent generations. I gotta say the only person I ever heard use balls as a cuss word was my dad.
It's part of his legacy and I won't let it die.
He also had some dandy insults. My personal favourite was the term "Sickening puke." As in, " That little brat over there is one sickening puke." I'm sure you all know a few little turds who deserve to be referred to in this manner; so don't hold back let those little "S.P.'s" know how you feel.
My dad also loved to watch shows where amateurs would share their talents in hope of hitting it big. Particularly comedy shows, but he saw the odd American/Canadian Idol type show too.
We would frequently hear the phrase "Don't quit your day job" being hurled at the screen as the latest victim stumbled through their performance. I never got tired of this phrase, I couldn't help but giggle when I heard it. Sometimes he couldn't control himself and he'd toss that phrase at news anchors and weather men too. My old man had some "A" material.
I drove around Ireland with my parents in 1999. My parents would reminisce about an old comedy album (you know the really thick vinyl ones) that they use to listen to "down home" at my moms parents farm near Kingston. Just in case you weren't aware, it rains alot in Ireland. Every day we would see rain clouds - almost on cue one of my parents would slyly say
"Looks like rain up ahead."
To which the other would respond with one of the following lines:
"We're driving right into it." or the even more popular, "But it tastes like carbolic acid!"
Oh the hilarity. We did that routine for years after!
My dad wasn't a touchy feely senso-dad (not that there's anything wrong with that) but he tried to show his affection in his own way. One of my fondest memories is one of my older sisters and I would get into our pj's and our parents would take us to Mister Donut in our old Dodge Monaco station wagon. We would go in and get hot chocolate and a bowtie. A bowtie was a specialty at Mister Donut (that was the ultimate donut shop, best sign ever! Apparently it's still "Big in Japan") it was a donut pastry about the size of a honey bun, but with chocolate icing and whipped cream on it. So decadent. It looked like a really big bowtie so we would pretend it was one before we devoured them in the backseat of the wagon! Oh the 70's, nothing like filling the kids with sugar then sending them off to bed! Boo Yea
h!The picture on the left was taken in Ireland in county Cork.
Things I'm glad I got to do with my dad:
1. Walk along the River Corrib in Galway Ireland
2. Have a pint at the Guiness factory in Dublin
3. Climb Blarney Castle (it's not the climbing that'll get you it's trying to get back down!)
4. Change the oil in my old car
5. Watch any show where unknowns were trying to make it big - "Don't quit your day job!" (see above)
So here's to you Dad.
B-spot on the touchy feely side.
