Yesterday on Facebook, I made the following crack:
Driving with my kids, listening to talk radio as they complain. I have officially become my father. 🙂
Apparently I’m not the only one who sees that happening to themselves. It is often thought of as a bad thing, but, in a lot of ways, I am very content with it.
Since yesterday, I have been thinking a lot about my dad. He had been gone for 9 years now, and I miss him.
When I was a young lad, back in the early Seventies, I thought my dad was great. He was quiet, solid as a rock, and had huge calf muscles from working on a ranch most of his life. He had served in the Navy in WWII, served a mission, graduated from Utah and got his Masters from BYU. He was kind, a good provider, a Church leader, and very, very good to my mother. He rarely lost his temper, but when he did…
But Dad wasn’t very cool. (At least to a kid my age.) Evidence? Â He shot free-throws underhand. Need I say more? But, for one brief period of time, he changed that. He had a flash of cool that I felt was the stuff on legend.
One afternoon, my friends and I were out riding our bikes – because that’s all we ever seemed to do – when a car pulled up into our driveway. I didn’t recognize the car. It was a kind of a beige-yellow color, but I was pretty sure I recognized the model.
The door opened, and my dad got out. Â What? Â I dropped my bike on the ground and walked over to him. Â He waited until the rest of the family was outside, and then announced that it was his new car. I don’t know if it was a surprise to Mom or not, but I don’t recall her being overjoyed. Â I was.
It was a Ford Gran Torino.
Awesome! Â Sure, it was beige-ish yellow, but it was actually a Gran Torino. And that was cool. Â Why? Because even I knew, at my young age, I knew who else drove a Ford Gran Torino.
I felt the same way when my Dad pulled up one day in the Pacer. A purple pacer.
Wait, no….I didn’t feel the same way at all.
Grand Torina > purple Pacer
Purple Pacer? I’ll hope you weren’t in therapy too long.
When I was about 20, my dad bought a Porsche 356SC. It was a bank repo, and he got a really good deal on it. He took me out on the freeway for a spin. He looked at the speedometer, and we were doing 100mph, smooth as silk. Uh-oh! He *eased* that foot off the accelerator, and we took it home at a more sensible 70mph. My dad crossed the country on an Indian motorcycle (with hard rubber tires) during the Great Depression, looking for work. He served in WWII, becoming an officer. I have copies of the letters he sent home to my mother and sister; I didn’t come along until several years later. My dad? Quiet Colorado farm boy who did a lot of quiet good in the small town where I spent my first eight years. I didn’t know until my uncle told me, after Dad passed, that his name was on a bronze plaque on the side of the school where I’d gone for first and second grade. Thank you for your dad story, and for stirring the pot of memory.
I’ve always wanted to be just like my dad. He’s my hero!
It is sad that it took losing my father to realize how immensely cool he was. He played the guitar, he hitchhiked across the US and Canada, he practically raised himself, and he was one hard-nosed daddy. He didn’t let his three kids get away with ANYTHING! It will be six years this Thanksgiving since he passed. A day doesn’t go by that I don’t think about him with gratitude. I look forward to heaven for yet another reason–thanking him in person for all he did for me. Oh, yeah, and maybe my kids will actually, finally think I’m cool when I’m gone, now that’s a thought….
One day mom sent dad to the store for a loaf of bread and some dog food. Five hours later he came home with a shiny new white Toyota and no bread or dog food. I remember that day in 1974 so clearly it could have been this morning! It was the only new car my parents ever owned. I love taking a stroll down Dad Memory Lane. My dad was not the father of my genetics but the dad of my heart. He was phenomenal. Thank you for the smile.
Nice. The coolest we ever got was an Oldsmobile station wagon. “Cool” wasn’t ever a word associated with my dad — except maybe in the mid-80s when I’d raid his closet for the vintage 50s skinny ties he’d never gotten around to throwing out. But in a lot of ways I wish I were more like him.
Ha ha, I LOVED Starsky and Hutch!! And I loved their cool car. Oh yeah, and I sure loved my dad. He’s been gone nearly 17 years and I miss him every day. He wasn’t exactly cool but he loved me and that was the best. And if I turn into my mother heaven help us all.
My Dad would have been 100 yr. old next Tuesday. He never went further than 8th grade in school, had trouble holding a job, drank too much, swore a lot, and didn’t like rock & roll. I think of him often and miss him a lot. In all my growing up our family never went to church but my Dad knew his Bible pretty well and I can remember a couple of times when he ‘discussed’ the scriptures with Jahovah Witnesses at great length. I joined the Church when I was 22 and my Dad never critized me doing so or the Church. Later on he got on the Genealogy bandwagon with me and even went to Salt Lake with me a couple of times. One day he surprised me with a cassette of Elvis Presley. He had his faults but we loved him and he loved us.
I shouldn’t write comments when it’s an emotional issue, my spelling and grammar suffer. Of course my children know of my grammatical shortcomings and would say that it must all be emotional for me.
I’m finding myself turning into my parents in more and more ways over the last few years… At one point that very thought would freeze me in my tracks, but nowadays I’m pretty proud to reflect their personalities. I couldn’t do much better, truth be told. They’re good people 🙂
That is funny, my daughter told me once that she lost me to NPR, she was complaining about the station that was on in the car as well. Your Dad sounds like a cool guy. I miss mine too, especially lately with all this political stuff floating about. I could always call him and talk to him about this stuff and he really knew what he was talking about and would put my mind at ease. After he passed away we were looking through a box of photos and found one of him from when he was a kid probably nine or ten years old, it was taken in the 1950’s and he has on a black leather motorcycle jacket, and like little motorcycle boots. He looked like a little punk, it was one of the coolest pictures I have ever seen! He was standing by a Christmas tree, maybe that’s what he got for Christmas? It was awesome!
Huh. I never watched Starsky and Hutch (am I too young? I was born in ’73) and we had a powder blue Torino (I guess it was the station wagon version) which I never thought was cool, except for when all the seats were down and the back was empty smooth flat metal as far as the eye could see and we would yell, “Daddy! Give us a sloppy ride!” and he would take corners really fast and we’d slide around the huuuuuge back of the Torino just like we were at Disneyland! And Mom would clutch her armrest and say, “John! Not so fast!” but we apparently had more influence over my dad’s driving than she did. She should’ve gotten in the back with us. Sigh.
Good post, man. It often hits me these days that I do much of the same stuff that used to irritate me about my dad. Stuff like driving the speed limit, not being in a hurry, listening to Tom T. Hall, enjoying it when the house is quiet, walking downtown for a haircut at a real barber, etc. I love that.
I like when you tell stories about Grandpa and Grandma. I think you should do that more often 🙂
Thanks! But aren’t you supposed to be working, my dear?
Oh, I was. The kids were writing 🙂