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.
4 comments:
Great remembrance, B, and I'm glad you shared. I find I'm using one from your pop's arsenal regularly these days, too: "Is that right, arsehole?" It works in SO many situations. One of my fondest memories, of course, was the trip he took with you, down to the Hood, to help us with the house. The map blew out the window somewhere in Pennsylvania, if I recall. I love how he fed all those potato chips to Simon, the cat, and he kept saying, "He ate a potato chip!" in sheer surprise and delight, since most cats can't be bothered with chips (Simon has since outgrown chippies). I love how your dad loved the WaWa sizzli breakfast sandwiches here, something we kind of take for granted. How nice it was of the WaWa clerk to make one special for him, as he was visiting our area, well after breakfast hours.
He did the math and helped me do the floor in our kitchen, our nearly 100 year-old kitchen that wasn't quite square. And the end results were and are still fantastic. I think of him all the time in that kitchen, and am so glad he is associated with our house's history, now.
Missing your dad, dude.
Yeah, that trip was also a great memory. The map blew out the window on the highway overpass in Philly. It was getting close to midnight and after the chorus of "Balls, balls, balls!" died down from the passenger seat we pulled off the highway to call you guys. We ended up at a very scary service station near the Wachovia centre because, (if I may quote another awesome phrase I learned on that trip)"Everything was closed up as tight as a bullfrogs arse!"
A classic.
I almost forgot a special shout out to the Chrissy for making it possible to upload this old non-digital photos. The force is strong within you!
Brah! No need to thank me.
Another quick cute memory, though I think it's more about you, and just reflects your dad's appreciation for funny stuff. Remember than god-awful reunion variety show at the school? One of Glen's stupid friends tried to stick his tongue down my throat that night, in front of his wife?? (ick). There was that unbearable oboe player who wrote that ridiculous song and dedicated it to the school, or some other sickeningly swarmy sappiness. I said something like, "God, this sucks," and you said, "It sucks, AND it blows." And we laughed about that for a few hours, and got back to your house and continued to dis the oboe player, and your dad just cracked up the whole damn time. We were not alone in our misery, which is always comforting.
I didn't get much time with your dad, but it was all memorable. There are a few other stories, but due to language and other sensitive topics, may not be suitable for telling on this here blog.
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