My Dad is a good man, he spent most of our youth in a truck, providing as a man is supposed to. I was never impressed with his parenting skills, as he was more concerned with making sure we had what we needed and a little more than bedtimes or discipline. As an adult, I am now appreciating him more, it is not easy being a father. There is a fine line between what we do, what we'd rather do, how we do, and ultimately, is our contribution a plus for the kids.
My Dad is from the era where he served voluntarily in Vietnam. He signed up when many of his friends talked of going, I guess he figured first in, first out. After signing though, most of his compadres, his bros, put on their pink little dresses and chickened out. My Dad did his tour, like a man. We have some great pictures of him holding a mortar launcher, his weapon of choice for bringing freedom to the enemy, 'merica, fuck yeah!
Seriously, he would not speak of his time there, my mother would talk of the nightmares when he came back. It took a long time before he acclimated back. So nice our government still sees fit to send our young men to free shitty countries for capitalism, when those countries own people won't do for themselves.
Back to him, he did make growing up more fun. I felt complete, having friends with only a mom and stuff like that. Plus he was great to go to the store with, every Sunday was Barbacoa time if he wasn't working. We'd go to the store, he always bought too much, throw in those cakes they used to sell in the bread section and whatever else he thought we needed. He wasn't like my mom, worried about veggies and stuff good for you. He was and still is like a kid. He's a diabetic, but don't get him near candy bars, he'll out eat you. My mom would lovingly call him the vacuum cleaner, he'd eat anything we left behind on our plates if it was edible. I have gladly taken on the family tradition.
He was the master of the cookout. Not gonna say he was a great cook, but he never met a piece of meat he wouldn't burn outside. When we would grill, he always set up a slow cooker and as the meat was done getting that "blackened" quality, he'd chuck it to the slow cooker and onto more meat. Always made so much, that there'd still be some in the fridge the following weekend. I'm sure he's still at it, I just live too far to experience it more than once or twice a year.
My complaints are few but he always talked about fishing, yet we only went a very few times. I always felt he could've taken us more often. When I was able to, I bought a boat, which we used every time they would come up to Austin. For a few years we went a bunch of times, but he has gotten older and I am not the best at maintaining all my stuff. I need to just go and get me a new boat, maybe in honor of Dad.
I could go on and on, but you get the point, he's a man, men weren't made to kiss ouchies, that's mama's domain. Now that I am grown, I understand him better. Men require solitude, otherwise we start becoming what our wives want, another woman to help in the house. I get my dad now. He always gave mom his check, but he'd find a way to keep a little for himself. I feel a need to do this now. I have no plans for the money, but when Chubs needs lunch money, or a coworker asks to break a $100, a man can and should be able to do that without asking wifey if it's ok.
Thanks Dad. Your life lessons were different than Mom's. Where she was concerned in making us people that would and could live amongst civilized society, you quietly remind me to nurture and take care of my inner animal. Don't get so caught up living to society's norms that you forget what you are, an animal that has learned to wear pants and take what needs to be taken. I know that to be a man sometimes we do things that identify us as crazy, but that is what makes us interesting. People don't always get us, and that is alright. Family will always be our first priority, but we do take a minute or two to look within and feel that inner beast content with our definition of a life well lived. I love you for always being you, Grumpy Old Man.
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