My Dad

I am usually a day late and a buck short. This is no exception. I meant to post a blog about my father on FATHER'S DAY, and , well, let's face it...it just didn't happen. So here I am, 2 days later; without a blog, and I still haven't sent him his Father's Day card. There it sits, on the table in my TV room, just waiting for a stamp. I did call him on Sunday though, don't worry, I'm not a TOTAL loser. Here ya go Dad, this blogs for you.

I have many stories about my father that I could tell. I will try to keep this short and sweet, and share a few snippets of my life with my father. Snippet #1. Dad teaches me how to drive a stick:

Dad had decided that it was high time his one and only daughter learned how to drive a stick shift. He took me to the Millard North High School parking lot one Sunday afternoon in his black 1996 Chevy S-10. Keep in mind...this was only 1998, so the vehicle was still fairly new. New car scent still lingered, due to the fact that my father keeps his automobiles SPOTLESS. We arrive in the parking lot, and switch, he gets into the passenger seat, and I climb into the driver's seat of HIS baby. I am a bit nervous and have the feeling that this is NOT going to go well. Boy was I ever right. To make a long story short, after about 30 minutes of me continuously killing the engine and coming to a screeching halt, my father promptly told me...through clenched teeth...to, "GET OUT." I had killed it so many times that the check engine light had come on. It was a blaring yellow light that might as well have said, "Girl, you better get your ass into the passenger's seat, and shut your mouth. You are horrible at this." We drove home in silence, and I never drove that pickup again. That was the end of my father teaching me how to drive a stick. I actually got the hang of it a few years later...in my boyfriend at the time's car. He told me to get in, and just said, "go". He laughed at me all the way from the McDonald's at 132nd and Maple, back to Bennington.....but I made it. And I gained a great sense of accomplishment. I wouldn't have been able to do it without my first "lesson".

Snippet #2, my dad rarely curses.

Very rarely does my dad find the need to use foul language. Growing up, I might have only heard "shit" a handful of times. His favorite phrase was, "God Bless it". No other time was this better illustrated than when the drain in the basement laundry room backed up, spewing black sludge all over the floor. Whenever the toilet in the laundry was flushed, more and more spewage. The drain needed to be plunged, quick, but it wanted no part in this. My father worked tirelessly to unclog that drain. He would plunge, and plunge, and plunge, then flush the toilet to see if worked....it was like old faithful, it continued to spew each and every time. He got so angry, but refused to use the "F" bomb. The only phrases to come forth out of his angry mouth were:
"Flood, bitch, flood!" (This was his refrain each time the toilet was flushed...)
"God...Bless...AMERICA!"
Apparently, adding AMERICA onto the end of "God bless" made it more meaningful.
I giggle every time I think of this story. I laugh even harder when my brother Joel tells the story...because this is what woke him up that morning. He must have thought at first that it was Independence Day, from all the blessing of our country that my father was doing.Snippet #3:

Dad has many "isms". My favorite of which was the one he used when we were not doing what we had been told. He always asked. "DO YOU NEED ME TO DRAW YOU A PICTURE?!?!" You knew he meant business if this question was asked, because my dad is no artist. When he said, "DO YOU NEED ME TO DRAW YOU A PICTURE?!?!" What he really meant was, "QUIT ACTING LIKE A TOOL, OR I WILL BEAT YOUR ASS!!!"

Dad, I will stop there, because If you are reading this...you are thinking that I should stop here. Hence, no more snippets. I would like to say...Happy Father's Day, to the best dad a girl could have. I think that due to your efforts, I turned out to be a pretty swell egg. Just don't forget that you promised me that you would find me a Harley sometime in the near future. If I don't have one by August, you better believe that I am going to have to..."DRAW YOU A PICTURE!!"