Author Topic: Dad tales.  (Read 226 times)

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Online EC

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Dad tales.
« on: June 15, 2014, 09:34:28 AM »
Share 'em. Either memories of your own Dad, or the trials and tribulations of being a Dad.

To start:

My Dad is easily the most important formative influence on my life. He's a bit rough in his manner, built like a brick shed made by someone who has no clue how to lay bricks. Gave me my love of flying, love of learning and taught me the hardest lesson a male needs to learn - that compassion makes you more of a man, not less. You look out for the weaker ones and that if anyone messes with family, they don't keep breathing for long. He's got his quirks. He yodels while he washes the dishes. Loves Jazz, though he can't play note one on any instrument, and the one person he'd leave Mom for is Peggy Lee. Mom is fine with that. The guy who seriously shorted himself to make damned sure I and then my sister had enough to eat. You try running a metal press 10 hours a day with only lettuce sandwiches to keep you going. The guy who would pull into the drive after a full shift, come in and play with us, read to us (Alice in Wonderland - he'd do the poems with all sorts of voices) and never once seem tired, or upset, or out of sorts. The guy who, age 40, went back to college, got an engineering degree, and became a highly respected and sought after aero engine designer. Hell, he still isn't retired at 85, he contracts three days a week.

An amazing man. Big damned shoes to fill. I used to think that. Mentioned it to him once and got such a smack in the head that my eyes crossed. "Stupid bugger. Fill your own shoes."

Love you, Dad.
Before you bitch about the youth of today ... think about who raised them.

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Offline Bigun

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Re: Dad tales.
« Reply #1 on: June 15, 2014, 10:20:23 AM »
My dad was a HARD man. I mean that in the sense that he worked HARD at everything he did in life. Had to! He had to growing up as the son of a Mississippi share cropper living from hand to mouth most of the time. He had to during WWII  when he joined the Marine Corp and and found himself in some very inhospitable places fighting for his life all over the South Pacific.

After the war he went to work for the Austin Bridge Company as a high iron painter and eventually became the foreman of a crew that continually traveled in order to keep the bridges they
were responsible for painted and looking good. They worked hard and partied even harder.  My dad was married twice before meeting and marrying my mom (my mother being the only woman he ever met who was tough enough to to eventually tame him a little.) Anyway he was already in his mid thirties before I came along (something else that had a taming effect on him) and already somewhat calmed down (though still plenty fiery!) Anyway he was a GREAT man from whom I learned a LOT before he went home in 1995. I still miss him a LOT.
“It is difficult to free fools from the chains they revere.” —Voltaire

Online Lando Lincoln

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Re: Dad tales.
« Reply #2 on: June 15, 2014, 10:33:01 AM »
Lost my Dad at the age of 86 last November.  Still don't have the words.  He was #13 of 14 kids.  Big family.  To steal a brilliant line from EC he taught my brothers, my sons, and me that "compassion makes you more of a man, not less".  No greater gift.  He was a Patriot in every way.  Faithful to my Mother.  Worked hard.  Drank too much beer.

Simple summary, not poetic, but God, I miss that man.
« Last Edit: June 15, 2014, 10:33:48 AM by Lando Lincoln »
For the progressive, there is very little to love about the United States. Washington, Jefferson, Madison? A bunch of rotten slaveholders, hypocrites, and cowards even when their hearts were in the right places. The Declaration of Independence? A manifesto for the propertied classes. The Constitution? An artifact of sexism and white supremacy. The sacrifices in the great wars of the 20th century? Feeding the poor and the disenfranchised into the meat-grinder of imperialism. The gifts of Carnegie, Rockefeller, Vanderbilt, Morgan, Astor? Blood money from self-aggrandizing robber barons. Nat Rev

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