Father’s Day is in two weeks.

Tell us some great stories about your dad. They can be humorous, touching, short, long, whatever.

When I was 7, maybe 8 my father took me, Mom, and little sister Becky on a road trip to the Gulf of Mexico.
I got to ride in the front because I would throw up otherwise.
Dad had to be all-knowing. He had an answer for everything.
Along the way, I saw a huge building. I asked him what it was. He replied, "That is for processing sugar cane."
A minute later the sign said "Goodyear".
I was starting to realize that Dad did not know everything.
On the road to Mobile, I saw rows of crops emerging. I asked him what they were raising. "Those are truck farms raising
vegetables for groceries." Minutes later a sign declared that it was a flower farm.
All this made me determined to nail him. I had to catch with something he could not possibly have an answer to.
When on a beach in Biloxi I saw a wooden john boat. John boats are simple craft of about 14 feet. They are popular for fishing.
It was upside down in the sand. The peculiar part was that 1/3 of the bottom was of hardware cloth, a strong steel screen. When I looked at it the sand was
clearly visible through it. It was not a boat that could float.
I had to ask.
"Dad, what is that for?"

"That is to let the water out."

He was a hard man to get ahead of.

Ok, I'll share one.

My Dad's advice on certain topics was usually indirect. This was his advice about marriage.

One time I was visiting my parents after they moved to their final home, in Ft Wayne, Indiana. It was time for me to leave, and my mother insisted on taking me to the airport super early, telling me it was 45 minutes away when I knew it was more like 10-15.

With her out of earshot, I protested to my dad. But he said to me 'look, you and I know it's 15 minutes away, but for your mother the airport has always been 45 minutes away no matter where we've lived. I just go early and make sure I bring a good book.'

By the way, multiple entries are allowed and encouraged.

wow. i have so many! my father was a larger than life character, and so complicated. but, i do NOT want to be decorator of the month. so should i abstain from participating?

No, i’ll Probably do a random thing at the end but would be happy to exclude you.

i'm going to answer my own question.

a few random memories:

one of the most apocryphal, repeated (in a different version) at his memorial service:

my father had open heart surgery at age fifty to repair a mitral valve prolapse. now, my dad was one of those people with a restless constitution, who needed to always be physically active at all times. he was a bike racer until he was in his 80s. he was also the world's worst patient; it was practically impossible to keep him in bed.

the day after his surgery, in the hospital in philadelphia, he was jogging around the hospital corridors. the heart surgeons were taking him around to meet all the other patients about to go in for open heart surgery, to show them how fast you could recover.

the surgery and the doctor were in philadelphia. my father lived in central new jersey, about 50 miles out of NYC. on his first post-surgery checkup, the surgeon told my father he was doing great, but for now he was to stay off his bicycle. my father said, "but doctor, how will i get home?"

----

when we were kids, singing was always a big part of any car trip. my dad didn't have a great voice, but he loved to sing all the old songs his father had taught him--they were in russian, mostly, maybe some of them were in yiddish. he taught them all to us, though we had no idea what the words meant. when we ran out of those songs, it was time to make up operas. we took turns creating arias. and of course there were plenty of raspberry and fart and belching accompaniments to the arias, usually instigated by my father.

-----

there were some not so great memories, too. i like to say that my father was a great guy, but a terrible father. he apologized to me many times in my early adulthood for all the harm he had done to me. and then, as he got older, it was as if those conversations never happened--he fell back into his old ways of abuse. i think he really struggled with himself. struggled to feel loved, to feel worthy, and was horribly punishing to any perceived slight by his children, however imaginary. not easy to have a relationship with someone like that, and in the end, i had to forego having one. still makes me sad.

quote:

Originally posted by CHAS:
When I was 7, maybe 8 my father took me, Mom, and little sister Becky on a road trip to the Gulf of Mexico.
I got to ride in the front because I would throw up otherwise.
Dad had to be all-knowing. He had an answer for everything.
Along the way, I saw a huge building. I asked him what it was. He replied, "That is for processing sugar cane."
A minute later the sign said "Goodyear".
I was starting to realize that Dad did not know everything.
On the road to Mobile, I saw rows of crops emerging. I asked him what they were raising. "Those are truck farms raising
vegetables for groceries." Minutes later a sign declared that it was a flower farm.
All this made me determined to nail him. I had to catch with something he could not possibly have an answer to.
When on a beach in Biloxi I saw a wooden john boat. John boats are simple craft of about 14 feet. They are popular for fishing.
It was upside down in the sand. The peculiar part was that 1/3 of the bottom was of hardware cloth, a strong steel screen. When I looked at it the sand was
clearly visible through it. It was not a boat that could float.
I had to ask.
"Dad, what is that for?"

"That is to let the water out."

He was a hard man to get ahead of.

Love the bicycle story.

As someone whose father was not only not present, but also not interested in supporting his offspring, I have nothing charitable to say about the man my older brother calls nothing more than a sperm donor.

At least I'm not bitter.

quote:

Originally posted by Matt G.:
As someone whose father was not only not present, but also not interested in supporting his offspring, I have nothing charitable to say about the man my older brother calls nothing more than a sperm donor.

At least I'm not bitter.

The dad-nyc approach to parenting:


Once when I was maybe 16, my Dad pulled me aside and said "don't think I don't know about the things you do. Because I did those things too. And I'll tell you this. If I got away with it, I'll probably let you get away with it. But if I didn't get away with it, you sure as hell aren't either."

So we moved to Colorado Springs in the early 1960's. On our arrival we were driving down a wide boulevard in our red 1963 2-door Olds Nighty Eight. There wasn't much other traffic about and as was usually the case, my dad was bombing along at considerably above the speed limit. We were all gawking at everything, when we came up to a road sign. It was a yellow square sign, with one corner of the square sign pointing up. There was only a single word on the sign.

Without slowing, my Dad looked at my Mom and asked, "What does 'DIP' mean?"

I don't want to enter the contest but after spending the weekend with my 90 year old Mom, Dad was the subject of discussion.

He was a ham..just sayin...

His customers would give him gifts, mostly gift certificates to Lord and Taylor or Macy's..So we would make the once a year trip to NYC to buy winter coats...

I remember a specific trip to Macy's in Herald Square...We were browsing and Dad decided to play tricks...he would stand at the end caps posed like a manikin...and when folks walked up he would spook them. His poses were so realistic...

Yikes. We didn't want to be seen with him!

And then there was Howard Cosell...My Dad was in an Irish bar schmoozing..and joking with friends...He claimed he knew Howard Cosell, the famous sports caster...they were dubious, for good reason...until Howard walked into the bar!!!...My Dad jumped up and waylayed him., slapped him on the back and whispered in his ear to play along..."HOWARD! Old Friend! How are you!"...Howard, amazingly went along with the joke...OMG...

As my dad drifted into old age, he developed a need for long naps in the afternoon. This caused a bit of trouble for my mom when they traveled - where could he take his siesta??

On one driving trip, they stopped in a rest stop along the highway and mom grabbed a book to sit at a covered picnic table. Dad went in search of a nice patch of shady grass to nap. It was a bit damp, so he wrapped up in a blue tarp...

A while later, mom noticed some people gathered looking down the hill at something - they thought someone had dumped a dead body!

Way to go, dad!