Happy Father’s Day

Okay, I’d like to first say Happy Father’s Day to my father, even though he never visits this site. Yeah, I know, how rude! Kidding, I showed it to him when it was first getting started and I really do not expect him to see it. But, I’d like to think that if he were to check out this site on a normal basis that he would like to see me say good things about him. So here it goes, my childhood in a nutshell.

Bowling…

I don’t remember much to begin with but that he was always bowling with my brother who is five years older than I am. I know I wanted to start bowling because I wanted to spend more time with him than my brother was and some how, some way, I was actually good at it. He contends that I caught on much quicker than my brother did, and seemed more genuinely interested in it. I remembered being in leagues since I was in third or fourth grade, mixed adult/junior leagues. I began to catch on around seventh grade and was averaging 140’s but I didn’t think that was that great. Considering others were shooting 180+ all around me.

I never thought I was that great until high school when my Advanced Algebra teacher was also the high school’s bowling coach and I mentioned that I bowled as well. I told him my average was about 140 and he said for me come out for the team. I was very hesitant about it all when I got there, yet made varsity as a freshman. I remember how excited my dad was when I made state my freshman year and him shaking my coach’s hand so fast and all. And every year after, except junior year when I did not make it, they had the same thing. My parents always congratulating my coach on the team then thanking him for helping me out. It was crazy having my dad always talk about me to his bowling leagues and when I was on the leagues, people would congratulate me on doing so well because he would talk about it.

See, my dad is the type of guy who doesn’t share his feelings in an emotional way, unless it’s laughter or anger. He doesn’t get sappy, or sweet, or cutesy. He’s just there or making jokes about it all. And that is how it always was; I would see a smile or a twinkle in his eye, and I then knew how proud he was of me. He never said it in words, just in his face.

And to this day, he still talks about me while I am off at school bowling. I still don’t think I’m that good, averaging 180’s while the rest of the collegiate world averages as high as 220. I come home to see people on the leagues he bowls on where I know them and they say, "Oh, your dad said you bowled a…." etc. Anything of that kind. He tells people that I’m his coach and that I help him bowl better. Which is funny because he doesn’t always bowl that well while we are bowling together. We’re on a league now together, three weeks into the league and the first week we bowled, he kicked my butt. Well, I beat him the first game by about 30, then he rolled two 200’s and I was barely making 180. I hadn’t bowled in three months, what do you expect? So, my point here is that he rubbed it in my face that whole night, calling himself the family bowler. Couldn’t believe that man.

But, I had to show him how to really bowl and this past week I shot 594, averaging 198 for that night. It felt great to be back and to kick his butt again. When we were walking out to the car that night, I said, "Well, it’s good to be family bowler again," and he just chuckled. I was expecting some smart assed comment, but he didn’t have one for once in his life. I think he was actually proud of me because the team we were bowling against kept saying how good I was doing and that I had nice form. I don’t really have that nice of form, but it looks better than two-thirds of the league, if not more. So, I would suppose that was his way to say he was proud of me. Letting me have my few moments of glory that night and beat his butt, the way it’s supposed to be!

Music…

I remember as a youngster going to bowling on Sunday mornings and listening to the Classic Rock stations for the Breakfast with Beatles. I always wanted to change it, because in sixth grade, you don’t like that kind of stuff. But, somehow it grew on me and more and more we were listening to that station on our way home as well. Crazy how I began to like it. About seventh grade I fell in love with the Eagles, which he thought was funny because any time before that, I detested them. Especially the song "Lyin’ Eyes," because it is soooo friggin’ long. Then all of sudden, that seems to be one of the greatest songs I’ve ever heard and I’m buying their albums, or listening to his.

Another revelation I had was for Jimmy Buffett; I thought his music was strange and kooky. That is, until I actually listened to it and that too, I began to like. For his birthday, I think it was his birthday, I got him tickets to see Jimmy Buffett and it was great in the lawn to see him. Then a year or so later he was into John Fogerty because of the Premonition tour, then the man had "Blue Moon Swamp" out and my dad was always listening to that. So, for his birthday, again, I got tickets and went to see Fogerty with my dad and it was probably the best concert I had ever seen. And mind you, I had seen Eric Clapton just earlier that year. Clapton is a guitar god, but doesn’t show well. Fogerty was all across the stage and playing great. Plus, our seats were much, much, much better than at the Clapton concert. He contended as well, that it was one of the best concerts he had seen. That was also a bonding moment when he got me my first taste of Bacardi Breezers Bahama Mama. Ooh, that drink is great!!! YUM YUM. Haha.

Humor…

He has the oddest sense of humor I have ever encountered. I’m sure I’ve heard worse, but they probably only had a line or two. My dad has about twenty lines that are sure to bring about a stupid laugh when you didn’t want to humor him. So, here is a few of his favorite lines with a set up for the situation:

His favorite joke is from Hot Shots Part Deux. When Charlie Sheen is talking to the Italian woman about something serious, he says, "You’ve got to be joking." She then says, "If I were joking I’d say, a horse walked into a bar and the bartender said ‘Why the long face?’" Pretty stupid eh? But, it works out many times when he tells us something we don’t believe and we say, you’re kidding. He then says, in an Italian accent mind you, "If I were kidding…" and he’ll continue the joke.

If you walk by him, or up to him and say you have a headache, he says, "If I had a head like that, it’d hurt, too." Ask anyone from school, I seem to use that one now.

When you say something hurts when you do something in particular, he says, "Then don’t do that, it hurts."

The cats need to be fed and he’ll ask me to do it, or to scoop the litter, or some other task that needs to be done daily and I’ll say, "But, I did that yesterday." He says, "Did you eat yesterday?" "Yeah," I respond. "Well, so did they, so do it again."

I recently told him a joke I found online and he insisted that I tell a few people from bowling and he shared it with people at his work. So, here it is. What do sperm and lawyers have in common? Both have about a 1 in 3 million chance of becoming human.

If I say, or do something funny, I’ll say, "Hey dad, aren’t I funny?" Just looking for attention I would suppose. He’ll answer, "You know Amy, you’re pretty funny sometimes. Too bad this ain’t one of those times."

When you tell him that your head hurts, or some other body part, in certain places, he’ll say, "Stay out of those places."

When I was younger, and naïve and I didn’t know any better, him and my brother got me on this joke. And they did it one morning before bowling when we used to get Dunkin’ Donuts for breakfast. They said, "Hey Amy, want a hurts donut?" I, of course would say, "What’s that?" They would then punch me and say, "Hurts, don’t it?"

And my personal favorite is when you correct him on something, or he contends that he’s right on something, he’ll say, "What do I look like I’m stupid?" I could just give him a look and he’d say, "Don’t say it," waiting for me to say yeah!

So, I think that is about enough for now on the man I call father. I don’t really call him father, more like dad, moron, ass, and big shit. And that is only because he calls me the same things, only calling me a lil’ shit. It’s a hallmark moment!