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Let me tell you a thing about my DAD

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  • GoatmonGoatmon Companion of Kess Registered User regular
    edited August 2013
    All I really want out of him is some equivalent of "I'm sorry for basically treating you and your sisters like complete dirt."

    Instead he basically spat on them both because one of them had a daughter with a black father.

    I've given up on him at this point, and he can pretty much continue rotting in his nice expensive, empty house on other side of the country.

    I hated having to do that, but sometimes people just can't be decent human beings, and you just have to let go and try to move on.

    Goatmon on
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  • DichotomyDichotomy Registered User regular
    lately my father and mother have been visiting a ton of auctions, garage sales, antique shops, etc. because that is their new passion, finding cool things for cheap
    today my father's prize is a little grandfather clock for a desk or something, it's under a foot high

    I take note of how curious it is to make a fancy clock in that scale and he sets it on the floor next to the wall, it doesn't even reach his knee
    "I got it for the smaller house we're gonna get when we move out of here," he says

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  • GoatmonGoatmon Companion of Kess Registered User regular
    edited August 2013
    Also, I unashamedly take a small token of pride in knowing that, when my Nieces went to visit him a couple years ago (a year or two after I basically told Dad I was done with him) he apparently kept ranting about me, especially at Hannah, who probably takes after me more than anyone else in the family and I who I love with all my heart.

    He'd also get really snappy anytime my sisters brought me up in conversations, and such.

    If there's one thing I'm really good at, it's pissing off crazy smug jackasses.

    Goatmon on
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  • GoatmonGoatmon Companion of Kess Registered User regular
    edited August 2013
    Tasteticle wrote: »
    Also have some old dad stories:
    Tasteticle wrote: »
    my dad is also a constant source of hilarity/disdain

    one time he walked into my room wearing nothing but tighty whities (he is super hairy, fat, balding, and with a 70's porno mustache)

    stands there dead silent as I gaze upon upon him in a shock of horror and disgust

    and proclaims

    "ONE DAY, SON, THIS WILL ALL BE YOURS"

    he then proceeds to rub his hands up and down is body

    and then exists by walking backwards, with a dead serious face

    Thanks, Dad

    This reminds me of one of the more amusing Dad memories.

    Both me and my Dad have been known to just walk around the house in our underwear, and give no fucks about it whenever we could get away with it. Which, when it was just him and me, was basically anytime we felt like it.

    I remember once, we were both just in the dining room one afternoon (which was also where the closet for the washer/dryer was located) and my Dad one time just suddenly starts doing a stupid dance to the rhythm of the dryer for no reason, while in his underwear.

    I'm just shaking my head, laughing.

    Goatmon on
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  • CorehealerCorehealer The Apothecary The softer edge of the universe.Registered User regular
    edited August 2013
    Buttcleft wrote: »
    I wish I had a happy feel good story to offer the thread, but not every father is worthy of being a dad.

    Yeah, I know that feel. This thread makes me happy so many people got lucky with their fathers, but I am a bit jealous too.

    I've never known anyone or really known of anyone inside or outside my family who has had a good dad; the closest approximation to a good father figure I've had was my grandfather on my dad's side, but he died when I was young.

    It makes me wonder sometimes if the lack of a good father figure in my life has somehow helped subconsciously lessen my desire to have children or my perception of how good a dad I would be to my kids.

    I have been fortunate in a lot of other ways though so I don't feel bitter about it, and I am glad to see there are dads out there that have not only succeeded at the great responsibility of being a good parent, but have thrived on it and pushed the bar to become awesome parents. I got nothing but respect for that.

    Corehealer on
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  • Dongs GaloreDongs Galore Registered User regular
    My Dad once shot a cobra in the face

  • ButtcleftButtcleft Registered User regular
    edited August 2013
    Corehealer wrote: »
    Buttcleft wrote: »
    I wish I had a happy feel good story to offer the thread, but not every father is worthy of being a dad.

    Yeah, I know that feel. This thread makes me happy so many people got lucky with their fathers, but I am a bit jealous too.

    I've never known anyone or really known of anyone inside or outside my family who has had a good dad; the closest approximation to a good father figure I've had was my grandfather on my dad's side, but he died when I was young.

    I'm in the same boat, nurtured a love of tech in me, then up and died on me before he could even begin to teach me all the awesome things he knew about electronics and computers and tech.

    Up and died before I was even old enough to truly appreciate everything he tried to do with and for me...

    only one on that side of the family to not treat me like a pariah, too.

    Buttcleft on
  • JimothyJimothy Not in front of the fox he's with the owlRegistered User regular
    My dad is easily the worst person I've ever met.

    If you met him, you might think he seemed pretty alright. I guess most people do, although I did have friends growing up who didn't want to hang out at my house because they could tell there was something off about him (not that I ever wanted them to come over anyway). My dad's the sort of person who will drive on the highway, screaming and banging his fist on things because of other drivers, snapping at or refocusing his screams on anyone in the family who wants him to calm down or is crying because they're afraid-- but if something actually happens and he and another driver pull over and talk, he'll be entirely pleasant with them.

    It always seemed so obviously fake to me, but my mom told me that his employers had sent him for anger management a couple times, and therapists always seem to pass him and say there's nothing wrong. And I was very surprised to learn that my mom's parents never knew-- between dating and marriage, my parents were together nearly thirty years, and we lived down the street from my grandparents for fifteen of those, and they never suspected a thing. I always just thought everyone knew.

    I have no memories of a time before I was afraid of my dad. I've certainly never loved him. There were definitely times when I outright hated him, but it's long since mellowed into a sort of guarded indifference. I nothing him. I feel disgust sometimes, I don't like to touch him in any way, but not anger.

    I guess we always just thought it was our lot in life. Everyone has something they have to deal with, and this is ours. We never talked about it, but I didn't feel like we were keeping a secret. And other people have it so much worse-- he wasn't absent, he was all too present. He provided for us financially (something my mom's affluent parents assisted with and could have taken care of entirely), while being actively detrimental to our development. I've never seen him drunk, but I guess that at least would have been an excuse. Aside from some intense spanking that is expected of his generation, he never really hurt us, there were no bruises or bleeding, but it felt like the threat was always there.

    He would focus on me and my three siblings at different times in our lives, and our mom whenever he wasn't busy terrorizing one of us. Screaming, swearing, chasing people through the house, throwing and breaking things, slamming doors so hard that shards of paint would litter the carpet, banging on my sister's door screaming at her to unlock it, while she wasn't sure whether to be more afraid of him coming in or making him madder.

    I once explained all this to a friend, who promptly missed the point: "So it's like the goods were good but the bads were bad?" No. The goods were awful. I never felt safe in my house unless I knew he was at work. When I was really little, he would go on a lot of business trips, and I remember being so happy and relieved every time. But then he got a job where he never left town, and eventually a job working from home. Anytime we'd see his garage door go up, the mood in the whole house became quieter. Toys were suddenly picked up, the TV volume lowered or turned off, we all became tense. You never knew what could set him off, just that something would-- I was more than once on the receiving end because I'd misjudged how much orange juice was left in the pitcher; he'd prefer I finish it than accidentally trick him into thinking he could have a full glass.

    The worst was one night (a school night) when I was fifteen or sixteen. I don't remember why, but he got really mad at my mom. My baby sister was sleeping in her crib. I found out years later that my brother, also in bed, was awake for the whole thing. For hours that night, he yelled at me, my mom, and sister, as we cowered in one corner or another, crying. He'd grab my mom to yell in her face, my sister would cry for him to not hurt her. When my mom recounted the story to her mom a couple years back, she said that I had tried to defend them-- I don't know if she's lying or misremembering, but I very distinctly remembered being ashamed that I was too afraid to do anything at all. He accused my mom of turning us against him. There was a wooden rocking chair that my mom used to sit on and rock me and sing lullabies. Away In a Manger, that sort of thing. He grabbed it and repeatedly smashed it into the ground, into splinters, all the while telling us that he would never hurt us and that's why he had to take it out on the chair. My mom tried to take us to her parents' house, my dad objected because we had school in the morning and that if she left, it was over and he'd make sure she never saw us again. She slept on the floor of my room that night, and when I woke up, all evidence of the rocking chair was gone from the living room. I found the pieces in the trash cans outside and took a piece to remember it by. Don't know where it is now.

    He focused on my sister during her last couple years of high school. She'd stay out past curfew, I'd stay up for her to come home, and I covered for her, swore up and down that she called when she was supposed to or was almost home, but he came down and caught her coming in late. Yelled at both of us, but focused on her. Threw her alarm clock in her direction. She was better at standing up to him than me, I never had the temper for it. But she fought back as best she could.

    He focused on my brother when he was fifteen and it came out that he'd been sleeping with his girlfriend. My dad was calm about it for a couple weeks, then decided to have a talk with him. It was also calm, very religious in nature, he's very dogmatic in his beliefs. Strangely, he hasn't turned me off to Catholicism, I mostly like it, I'm just more progressive about it. It seemed like that was that, but then later that night, he burst into our room at 3AM and screamed at my brother to come with him. My mom pleaded with him, and the three went down to the basement, but I could hear my dad from the second floor. My little sister was sobbing alone in her room, and I went in and silently hugged her, and stayed with her until she fell asleep.

    We finally started doing something about all this just over two years ago. My dad had started focusing his rampages on my little sister, who was ten at the time. She was afraid to stand next to him at church, which enraged him. I had moved out of the state at this point, but I'm told that he screamed at her, told my mom she wasn't his daughter (as though he were disowning her), my sister went to kiss him goodnight and he looked up from his newspaper or TV or something, stared, and went right back to it, ignoring her.

    My mom had finally had enough-- I'd always wanted her to leave him, for as long as I could remember, but I thought she must love him on some level and want to stay with him. Turns out she was just too afraid of what he might do. She'd been reading books on verbal and emotional abuse, joined a forum on it, and his latest tantrums gave her the desperate courage to start talking about it. She emailed me and my sister, and we supported her immediately and we all started sharing experiences (turns out he had shoved my mom into a wall when she was pregnant with me). We told her parents-- her mom was supportive, but her dad and brother were against a divorce and thought my dad was a good person with "a lot of heart." I debated with them, telling them about rocking chair night, until we agreed to disagree. They weren't going to turn against us, they just weren't crazy about it. My mom told people at work, the priest at church, started seeing a therapist and had the siblings still living with her see a therapist. My dad fought her every step of the way, said the books were brainwashing her and wanted to hear an argument from her that wasn't lifted from the books. We did get him to move out peacefully, I visited that weekend in case I had to fight him, and we had cops waiting nearby.

    Since then, he's been mostly very nice, but aside from my brother, none of us really give him the time of day. I update him on my life if he asks, and for some reason I will shoot him a text on Father's Day so I don't feel bad about myself, but I don't feel comfortable with him and I don't think it's healthy for us to talk to him too much. The divorce is still ongoing, but if it were up to me, my little sister would never have to see him again unless she wanted to. He's never going to be alone with my (future) kids.

    He still slips up, and he doesn't "get" it. He says he's "willing to say that it was mostly [his] fault" and while he knows that rocking chair night was the worst, he doesn't understand that it was much beyond that. He doesn't understand that we were afraid of him even when he was seemingly at ease, or he thinks we were mistaken to be afraid. He won't take responsibility for my little sister's intense shyness (especially around grown men, like me, even though I've never even raised my voice to her), saying that that's just the way she is, while ignoring that we can never know what she might have been like without his influence. He calls my mom screaming to let him in the house sometimes, or emails her a blogpost he found about a trend of women "leaving good men over frivolous divorces," asking her if it sounds familiar, or emails her asking when she will start acting like his wife again (ignoring that he has never acted like a husband). My sister and I assured her that it really was as bad as she remembers, and that our dad is not a good man and that I admire her so much for getting the ball rolling on all of this when we were all too afraid to for so long.

    As a side note, once in high school, before I ever thought there might actually be a divorce, I thought of how much I'd love to have my mom's maiden name instead, as I identify with that side of the family much more. I've been thinking about that more and more lately. I want to make sure I'd be doing it for good reasons, and not out of spite. I think I'm good on that, and I'm on board conceptually, but in practice, there are some issues that might prevent me from doing it. Confusing friends and coworkers, many of whom call me by my last name (though I wince when they do), distancing myself from my siblings, etc. It is sometimes a boy's first name, so I might give it to a son. Something I've been thinking about making a thread for lately.



    TL;DR People need to learn that verbal abuse is just as serious as any other form, and that you should never wait to leave a scary situation. Also some people don't ever end up having a good relationship with a parent, and I actually think that can be a positive thing.

  • JimothyJimothy Not in front of the fox he's with the owlRegistered User regular
    Sorry, that was way longer than I meant it to be. But honestly there's a lot I could expand on, I did cut some things.

  • AntimatterAntimatter Devo Was Right Gates of SteelRegistered User regular
    your dad reminds me of my dad jim

  • Darth WaiterDarth Waiter Elrond Hubbard Mordor XenuRegistered User regular
    Jimothy, you are a damn fine person and you need to know that.

  • cabsycabsy the fattest rainbow unicorn Registered User regular
    Jimothy wrote: »
    My sister and I assured her that it really was as bad as she remembers, and that our dad is not a good man and that I admire her so much for getting the ball rolling on all of this when we were all too afraid to for so long.

    TL;DR People need to learn that verbal abuse is just as serious as any other form, and that you should never wait to leave a scary situation. Also some people don't ever end up having a good relationship with a parent, and I actually think that can be a positive thing.

    The thing about gaslighting that a lot of people don't talk about is it stays with you for so, so long even after you get out. Even if your mom doesn't ask, make sure you reassure her every now and then that she's doing the right thing because it will help so much.

  • JimothyJimothy Not in front of the fox he's with the owlRegistered User regular
    Jimothy, you are a damn fine person and you need to know that.

    Thanks.
    cabsy wrote: »
    Jimothy wrote: »
    My sister and I assured her that it really was as bad as she remembers, and that our dad is not a good man and that I admire her so much for getting the ball rolling on all of this when we were all too afraid to for so long.

    TL;DR People need to learn that verbal abuse is just as serious as any other form, and that you should never wait to leave a scary situation. Also some people don't ever end up having a good relationship with a parent, and I actually think that can be a positive thing.

    The thing about gaslighting that a lot of people don't talk about is it stays with you for so, so long even after you get out. Even if your mom doesn't ask, make sure you reassure her every now and then that she's doing the right thing because it will help so much.

    I actually didn't know there was a term for it, but I just looked it up-- so thanks for that!

    I do try to remind her, although probably not often enough-- I did get her a necklace with a green gem (her favorite color) for Mother's Day last year, shortly after what would have been their 25th wedding anniversary and I thanked her for all she had done in the past year when I gave it to her. She wears it often enough, I hope she thinks on it as often.

    And our admiration of her and a mention of her strength inevitably makes their way into me and my sister's Facebook statuses on her birthday and Mother's Day every year.

    But after what you said, I think I might call her about it today.

  • RingoRingo He/Him a distinct lack of substanceRegistered User regular
    My Dad once shot a cobra in the face

    My dad fought bats.
    Bat Story:

    I was 5 or so and my family lived in Minnesota for about a year. What we didn't know is that there was a colony of bats that lived in the attic, and one night these bats decided to come downstairs and introduce themselves to our family. Why that particular night, I have no idea, save for the fact that my parents had just finished watching The Lost Boys and maybe the bats thought'd it be funny to make an appearance so soon after a vampire movie.

    Anyway, being 5 and thus much too young to watch scary vampire movies I was asleep upstairs until woken by the horrific screaming of my mother. I stealthily made my way downstairs to find out what all the ruckus was about while hopefully not drawing any of it to myself to come upon a sight I will never forget. There are three to five bats flying erratically around the living room. My mother is shrieking and waving her arms about her head to keep them away, and my father... well what you need to know here is that my father had lost most of his right knee in a motorcycle accident earlier that year, and it took two teams of surgeons and a whole lot of metal just to keep from amputating the leg. By this point he was probably only a month out of the wheelchair and using crutches to get around.

    So here is my father, in the living room. One good leg and a pair of crutches hobbling around and about every five seconds he stops. *WII-TCHOW* There is a towel in his hand. He is hobbling around on crutches with a towel in his hand using it like a whip. *WII-THOCK* And now he has just snapped that goddamned towel right into a bat and the damn thing falls out of the air and flops on the ground, stunned.

    Dad manages to get another bat before mom regains her senses and sees me standing in the hall. She tells me to go get my McDonald's Halloween buckets from my room (remember those? pumpkins and ghosts and such with a little turn-lock lid?) which I do, and then I come back down and perform lockup duties on stunned bats, which we then place outside to be destroyed by the morning sun.

    While I knew even at that tender age that my dad was a pretty badass dude, I think that image of him just standing in the living room, balanced on his crutches and smacking a crazed bat out of the air with a towel will always live with me as the "My dad is just so cool" moment

    Sterica wrote: »
    I know my last visit to my grandpa on his deathbed was to find out how the whole Nazi werewolf thing turned out.
    Edcrab's Exigency RPG
  • Darth WaiterDarth Waiter Elrond Hubbard Mordor XenuRegistered User regular
    Ringo, your dad is a badass.

  • GoatmonGoatmon Companion of Kess Registered User regular
    EGADS, I hear bats!

    Sweetheart, fetch me my towel!

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  • Darth WaiterDarth Waiter Elrond Hubbard Mordor XenuRegistered User regular
    Goatmon wrote: »
    EGADS, I hear bats!

    Sweetheart, fetch me my towel!

    I just have this mental picture of Sterling Archer whip-snapping a towel at a host of bats ...

    "You're in my Danger Zone."

  • ScooterScooter Registered User regular
    My dad's an alright guy, though if someone asked me who my hero was I'd probably say "Cyclops". We're a lot similar personality-wise, but also different, and sometimes I think he thinks I'm more like him than I really am. I'm liberal, and he's conservative (mostly in the selfish tax/money kind of way, though incidentally he does a lot of work with the oil industry). He seems to want to believe I'm actually just as conservative except maybe on some social issues, but...not so much. While my parents taught me to say please and thank you like most do, I've seen or heard of a few cases of him being mean to service staff, and it's my own experience working in retail that taught me to always say thanks to the people taking my money.

    He's always seemed a lot more driven than I've been, I've wondered if part of that comes from having kids to raise, or just from growing up before the age of video games or computers. But he's always seemed to need something to be working on, while I've always been more of a "minimum effort for maximum results" sort of guy, to get me back to relaxing as soon as possible. My parents put a lot of pressure on me when I was a kid to join clubs and the band and make friends and whatnot. It was understandable since I was a shy kid, but a waste of time. I never suddenly opened up into a social butterfly, I just resented all the time I had to spend practicing my instrument and in hindsight I'm pretty sure I'd be just the same if I'd never done any of it. His working paid off though, over the course of my lifetime my parents have noticeably gone from middle-middle class to upper-middle class. My parents used to get in arguments pretty often, which was mostly my mom going off on something minor and him trying to say whatever he could to calm her down, which usually made her madder. After the last few career steps up though she suddenly chilled out and I haven't seen them fight in years (granted I don't live with them anymore).

    I've always respected my dad, though that respect sometimes takes some hits when he can't resist making some stupid global warming or political joke. I'm a third-generation engineer, though I'm software and he started out in mines. With all of the similarities we do share, I wish we had more common interests to do together, but he's never been a gamer and I've never been into...working with stained glass, or fixing up bathrooms, or whatever hobby he's on to now. Still, it's always good to meet up with him for a superhero movie or something.

  • CogliostroCogliostro Marginal Opinions Spring, TXRegistered User regular
    My father was a sign language interpreter in the 70's and 80's. He used to be the guy in the bubble on TV interpreting sign language for TV shows. He was a fluent Braille typist. He also suffers from epilepsy. In the mid 80's he got involved in a cult that convinced him to stop taking his medication for 2 years - because Jesus would heal him. Well Jesus must have been out to lunch because he eventually had a series of severe grand mal seizures and they dumped him in a hospital then told my mom to come pick him up. He had to quit his full time job at a facility for mentally handicapped persons and would never work again. He lost the ability to perform sign language or remember how. This was a man who used to go out with my mom and they would only speak in fluent sign language to each other. They were that good.

    During my childhood he took part in several drug studies for epilepsy medication. Notably he helped Tegratol, Buspar, Dilantin and Neurontin become available. In 1988 he had an experimental procedure called a corpus calisotomy performed (front 2/3 of brain split in half). His doctor at University Hospital in Portland thought this would stop the seizures. It did not. It did, however, basically labotomize him and made him unable to control his emotions. Anger, sadness, rage, happiness... pretty much uncontrollable. He can fly off the handle at the slightest provocation or laugh himself into tears from a tiny little joke. He learned somecontrol it and he and my mother were able to do foster care for medically fragile children for my entire life.

    He's a good person, though. I don't talk to him nearly as much as I can. Lately he has begun to suffer more memory loss and loss of coordination. He had a Vagal nerve stimulator installed a couple of years ago and it has pretty much stopped the seizures, but he still has them occasionally. Too little too late, I'm afraid. He has severe and irreversible brain damage and will only steadily decline.

  • MulletudeMulletude Registered User regular
    Wow, jimothy...That sounds like my house growing up.

    I remember every time my dad came home I would immediately tense up and wonder what might happen.

    I remember trying to comfort my mom as she hid out in the basement bawling.

    I think he regrets things now...But it's too late to start over, at least with me.

    XBL-Dug Danger WiiU-DugDanger Steam-http://steamcommunity.com/id/DugDanger/
  • Dongs GaloreDongs Galore Registered User regular
    My dad was the Drinking Champion of Rhodesia 1976

  • STATE OF THE ART ROBOTSTATE OF THE ART ROBOT Registered User regular
    My dad loves alcohol more than he loves me. He hasn't done anything really bad really. Blamed me for him having to make child support payments, that sort of thing. He stole my identity once and that made me stop talking to him. He just can't stop drinking and driving and really I don't want to deal with him so I just don't talk to him.

  • FishmanFishman Put your goddamned hand in the goddamned Box of Pain. Registered User regular
    My father is a good man, who has cared for his family all his life and set the standard for what I want to be as a father.

    He was born into a professional family in post-occupation Hong Kong. The scars of Japanese occupation still troubled the Commonwealth colony at that point, and Hong Kong had yet to experience the economic explosion that drove it's wealth in the 70's and 80's. Life was hard for everyone, and his parents toiled for 60 hours a day at the office; he and his elder brother were instead mostly raised by Chinese servants. He would be presented to his parents for an hour at the end of the day, and told he had to be good and put on a good face. It's hard to explain that even though this sounds like a privileged existence, actually, this was still a life very much of toil and struggle, and very much just the way post-war Hong Kong operated.

    My father is Macau-Portuguese. As ethnicities go, it's pretty esoteric. Macau was the first and last European colony in Asia. Founded in the 1600's, my family has lived across the bay from Hong Kong since before the Declaration of Independence. And now we don't. By the 70's, the writing was on the wall: China would resume authority over Hong Kong and Macau in the late 90's, and slowly, surely, my family and so many others began fleeing the place they had called home for the last 4 centuries. Canada, Australia, America, New Zealand; anywhere a Hong Kong Passport could get you. The population of an entire city are now spread as an insignificant minority across the globe; our own diaspora. My own grandparents would stay in Hong Kong, working to get out. But their sons - they sent them as children across the globe to a boarding school in South Australia.

    My father doesn't talk about the school much. It wasn't so much a boarding school as a Catholic Monastery. He was not taught by teachers, but by monks. Brother Michael. Brother Francis. He had no family beyond his brother now, and as a couple of dark kids from overseas in Australia in the 70's who spoke more Cantonese and Portuguese than English... I get the feeling things were not easy. I have suspicions that ugly things happened inside that Catholic boarding school that he has never talked to me about, but has left a few traits as scars on his personality and mannerisms, both good and bad.

    His education and upbringing lent him strength although his nickname was also 'grumpy'. It wasn't until he met my mother at Teachers' College that he was able to actually let some of that guard down. He was quiet, stoic, intense and focussed. Stubborn. Prone to internalise. My mother was a tomboy; also stubborn, but also brought up amongst a big family that encouraged argument and free-thinking. Hooray for the Dutch! The two of them were complimentary; her loud, loving and boisterous; him laconic, cautious and thoughtful. She decided she liked him enough to pull him out of his shell, no matter what he thought about that. And so she did. She actually made most of the decisions about them; getting together, living together, getting married, having children. Honestly, she was the best thing that had ever happened to him up to that point.

    They got jobs as teachers together, out in the outback. Pretty shortly afterward, they had me and my brother. Looking back, I can see my father's own struggles with learning how to be a parent. He had little basis of comparison between his own upbringing and the role he was now thrust into, so he didn't always know what to do. He did however, have a strong sense about what it meant to be a man, what was right and wrong, and that he loved us all more than life itself, so he set about learning. And when he sets out to do a thing, there's not a lot that could stop him.

    The time came to move us out of the desert; it was not a great place to raise a family. My mother's family had settled back in New Zealand, and it was decided that Wellington might be a better place than all of Australia to raise a couple of kids. There were no jobs waiting, for almost a year my father struggled to find a job, ending up on a school janitorial crew to help make ends meet. He then moved to their office staff, become their 'computer guy' as he thought that would be a place to get into, then began his circuitous climb through IT office positions, jumping from job to job to make a living until he ended up at a computer company that got swallowed by EDS in the days before that got swallowed by HP.

    He worked long hours to provide for us and get ahead, but for my whole life he always made time on weekends and one afternoon a week to coach either my brother's sports team or my own. Cricket, Soccer, whatever, he made sure that he was there. To this day, 3 decades later, if we're playing a game at a park near him, I'll call up and let him know and he'll come down, rain or shine, to watch his boys play football. We have season passes to the local team, and all go together. But he always made that time for us and never let work obstruct it. It's what I want to carry most forward into my own experiences to pass onto my son.

    He's warmer now than he was then. Time and family has mellowed him, and being a grandfather has made him happier and cheerier than I would hoped. He lost his job almost a decade ago; since then he went to University to get a History degree, something he's always been interested in, and now spends his time between golfing, grandparenting, and caring for his Mother (who moved out here after the death of my uncle). Last week was his birthday, and I bought him Ticket to Ride boardgame so that we could all spend more time doing things together when we're over getting free babysitting.

    So, yeah, that's my dad. He's never been fully emotionally available, and rarely uses 3 words where 2 will do. But he's never failed to set a good example, never not been there or failed to let me know when I've made him proud. He's been honest, and scrupulous, and hard working (even a workaholic), but he's always prioritised the family when it counts, and even though he's capable of brooding and finds difficulty in change, he's been a shining example of doing the right thing.

    If I do nothing for the rest of my life but continue to make him - and my mother - proud of me, then I will count it a success, because they are some of the best people I know, and I'm happy and appreciative for what I have and what they have given me.

    X-Com LP Thread I, II, III, IV, V
    That's unbelievably cool. Your new name is cool guy. Let's have sex.
  • Blake TBlake T Do you have enemies then? Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life.Registered User regular
    My dad was the Drinking Champion of Rhodesia 1976

    One of my friend's father was Mr Rhodesia in the seventies.

  • CogliostroCogliostro Marginal Opinions Spring, TXRegistered User regular
    My dad loves alcohol more than he loves me. He hasn't done anything really bad really. Blamed me for him having to make child support payments, that sort of thing. He stole my identity once and that made me stop talking to him. He just can't stop drinking and driving and really I don't want to deal with him so I just don't talk to him.

    My fiance's dad did the same damn thing to him. What is it with dead-beat dads?

  • DichotomyDichotomy Registered User regular
    today my father and I loaded up his truck to take some stuff to the dump only for torrential rain to come out of a sky that was bright and sunny fifteen minutes before, right as we were about to tie everything off and head out

    this establishes a trend with the previous time we started loading up some stuff to take to my sister's new place and it started snowing the moment the first item touched the truck's bed

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  • ZonugalZonugal (He/Him) The Holiday Armadillo I'm Santa's representative for all the southern states. And Mexico!Registered User regular
    So a couple days ago I was hanging out with my mother and she reminded me to pick up a gift for my dad's 50th birthday next week.

    And then we sat confused because my dad hates gifts and parties thrown for himself. He actually got angry and yelled a bunch for my mom throwing him a surprise birthday when he turned 40.

    So I guess cigars...?

    Ross-Geller-Prime-Sig-A.jpg
  • ZonugalZonugal (He/Him) The Holiday Armadillo I'm Santa's representative for all the southern states. And Mexico!Registered User regular
    When I was in college my dad actively asked me to not buy him a Christmas gift as he considered me too poor to buy him anything.

    And one year when I was in high school he told my sister & I not to get him any gifts as he had already gone shopping, wrapped and labeled a bunch of gifts from us to him. And then on Christmas morning every time he'd open a gift he'd say, "Oh... How did you know? It was exactly what I wanted and needed. You guys are the best at gift giving."

    Ross-Geller-Prime-Sig-A.jpg
  • KetBraKetBra Dressed Ridiculously Registered User regular
    My dad's a really great guy who I respect immensely.

    But we're also very similar when it comes to having improbably hilarious accidents.

    For instance, one time my dad accidentally lit a picnic table on fire.

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  • KetBraKetBra Dressed Ridiculously Registered User regular
    Also, my dad makes the WORST dad jokes.

    He could probably hold a seminar on dad jokes.

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  • DichotomyDichotomy Registered User regular
    look everyone thinks their dad makes the worst dad jokes

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  • ButtcleftButtcleft Registered User regular
    KetBra wrote: »
    For instance, one time my dad accidentally lit a picnic table on fire.

    That's not exactly hard to do

  • ShortyShorty touching the meat Intergalactic Cool CourtRegistered User regular
    Dichotomy wrote: »
    look everyone thinks their dad makes the worst dad jokes

    my dad makes worse jokes than your dad

  • DaMoonRulzDaMoonRulz Mare ImbriumRegistered User regular
    One time my dad couldn't remember the name of the John Cole dessert at Carabbas and referred to it as the Jim Crow.

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  • King RiptorKing Riptor Registered User regular
    Zonugal wrote: »
    So a couple days ago I was hanging out with my mother and she reminded me to pick up a gift for my dad's 50th birthday next week.

    And then we sat confused because my dad hates gifts and parties thrown for himself. He actually got angry and yelled a bunch for my mom throwing him a surprise birthday when he turned 40.

    So I guess cigars...?

    A living toom full of burned streamers squished cake and torn banners. When he sees it say " I did this for you Pop"

    Then give him a sixpack.

    I have a podcast now. It's about video games and anime!Find it here.
  • DarmakDarmak RAGE vympyvvhyc vyctyvyRegistered User regular
    KetBra wrote: »
    My dad's a really great guy who I respect immensely.

    But we're also very similar when it comes to having improbably hilarious accidents.

    For instance, one time my dad accidentally lit a picnic table on fire.

    Hah, that reminds me of a story a coworker told me about how his dad didn't feel like mowing the lawn so he poured gasoline over it all and lit it on fire.

    JtgVX0H.png
  • FaranguFarangu I am a beardy man With a beardy planRegistered User regular
    edited August 2013
    I am a clone of my dad, physically anyway. We have the same facial structure, same body shape, same rapidly-leaving hair. It's half sobering, half comforting to look at him and see myself in 30 years, because he's not that bad off. Sometimes I wish I had gotten his brain, too. He's a whiz with computers, makes a healthy salary as a programmer for...Boeing, I believe? Some recent buyout leaves me unsure. Meanwhile, the most I can do is build a desktop for people, but any software work leaves me baffled.

    But anywho - he's been a great father. He encouraged me to move past comfort zones, he's supported whatever I've tried to do in life(not as much as I'd like, and I suspect as he'd like, either). He always encouraged me to slow down and think about my problems, and that a solution would come out of doing that. He put it into practice, too: he never lost his head about anything. He was so logical and patient.* When his work made him take regular out-of-country trips for weeks at a time while I was in middle school, he'd call every day, and help me with my math homework. I didn't pick up on it then, but in hindsight, he always sounded so sad on those calls, even though he was being sent to these nice places in Europe in quite cushy hotels, with limos to pick him up and send him home. I'd like to think it's because he realized how much he was away from us.

    The one thing I remember most clearly about him, though, is when I was 9. He is an ardent Deadhead, and by sheer luck my childhood best friend's father was the cousin of Phil Lesh. He managed to get tickets to what would be their final show before Jerry Garcia died, at Soldier Field. He came home long after I was in bed, and he almost crashed through my bedroom door, loudly saying my nickname and getting me to wake up. I smelled something on him, and I wouldn't discover its origin for years later.

    "Bud, bud! Wake up!"
    "...buh? What, what is it, dad?"
    "Check out this fuckin rad ear stud I just got at the show!"
    "...It looks cool, dad."
    "I know!!"
    "...It's a school night, dad."
    "Oh shit, sorry bud. Just wanted to show you my ear stud. G'night."

    This isn't to say that this was his regular state; far from it. It stands out so much to me because it was really the only time I saw him high.

    His brother died last October. Leukemia. He was fighting it for at least 7, 8 years. His mom is finishing the slow slide of Alzheimer's. He told me recently that he decided to start therapy last winter. Since then, he's been eating better, getting outside more. Sometimes though, he goes back to that sad tone of voice, and I know he's thinking about his family, and how he misses them. Then I think and realize that I live 15 minutes away from the man, and that I don't talk to him and my mom as much as either of us would like.

    *Edit: And when I say patient, I mean patient. My mom told me about one Saturday morning, before they were married, when they got woken up at some ungodly hour by Jehovah's Witnesses. They wanted to talk to him about Christ, and he was so upset about being woken up early that he obliged them. He debated with them for hours. The younger one left in tears.

    Farangu on
  • InvisibleInvisible Registered User regular
    My dad once caught the table on fire at an awards ceremony. An awards ceremony at which he was a recipient. An awards ceremony for firefighters.

  • TamTam Registered User regular
    I am very similar to my dad in all ways but good
    same anger problem
    same inability to express emotions properly
    same anxiety issues

    however he's a hardworking, honest, self-sacrificing man
    and I'm a lazy selfish lying coward piece of shit

    neither of us reach our full potential
    him because of hesitation, over cautiousness, and circumstance
    me because I'm a lazy coward

    I've accepted it
    now I just have to figure out how to change

  • TamTam Registered User regular
    edited August 2013
    oh hi totp
    we meet again

    Tam on
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