a couple memories of dad for fathers day (though they didn't turn out like I thought they would)

Christmas, early 70s. He got a watch.

It's Father's Day so I'm going to try to remember a few things about my dad. Which is  kind of sad because I don't really have as many as I know I should. And I've got a lot of bad ones and sad ones that I'd just as soon not get into at this point. Perhaps later depending upon what direction the blog takes.


For a long time dad worked for a cement plant and drove a big truck to and from companies that supplies rock and sand. He used to take me with him sometimes. I hated it. I was probably 12 or 13, probably even a year or two younger, but it was a real boring trip for me. It seemed a lot longer and farther than it actually was. It probably didn't take an hour to get there and maybe 15 minutes to get the cargo loaded into the truck. It seemed like forever to me. I was such a fool. If I'd had half a brain back then I'd be looking back right now at those trips as cherished moments. Instead all I can think of is how much of an asshole I was. He knew I didn't want to be there and for the first time I kind of realize that he likely didn't take me along for the fun of it or because he necessarily wanted to. There was probably just no place for me to stay at the time. Oh, I'm sure he would have loved it if these trips had been mutually enjoyable. He was proud of his occupation.

This picture was probably taken during their "dance parlour days"

I guess I knew from a very early age that my father and mother didn't get along so well. From as long as I remember she slept on the divan in the living room while dad slept with us kids in his bedroom. But it wasn't until I was in my early teens that I recall them fighting/arguing on a very consistent basis. There was a period of a couple of years where they tried to patch things up by going out to a "bar" every week...not really so much a bar as a place where people danced to live music. I never would have thought of my parents as "drinkers" no matter how casually. But I did find a bottle of orange flavored vodka (Yuck!) and one of Canadian Mist hidden in a small trash can in their bedroom. I should not have been snooping, I know. I don't think it really mattered to me. I know we were usually in bed and fast asleep by the time they got home. So I'm assuming this lifestyle was an attempt to smooth out the rough edges in their relationship. If that were the case it didn't last all that long.
   
     I don't remember what the fights were about. I do, however, remember that inevitably he would try to get me in the middle of them by having me validate a point he was trying to make. I never would do that. It wasn't my battle they were waging. It made me mad. I'm sure it exasperated my mother to no end. It got to the point where I was actually HOPING they would get a divorce because it was so painfully obvious to me that they didn't belong together. I don't think I'd come to the same conclusion nowadays but cut me some slack, I was only 15 years old.
   
     The situation actually did culminate in their separation and divorce. I think have written about that painful chapter of my life but I'll probably air it out again in more detail on this blog. Just not now. It's Fathers Day and I've already screwed this post up by picking on negative things. I'm sorry but I just write 'em as they come to me. That's what came to me this morning. So I'm going to hold off and wait until later to write about Pa. Don't get me wrong. I do have good memories. I miss him a lot since he passed away in 1999. Time was healing a lot of wounds when he left us.

Dad and Grandma in the green forest land of Vian Oklahoma.
When I see this picture I forget all about the bad times.
He was such a mana's boy..