A Memory of My Father
In honor of the Wizard's birthday this week I have decided to give you all a glimpse at the man that is my father.
As a young boy, I once made the egregious mistake of calling my brother a "Son of a %#&$". I was in third grade and I'd heard my Grandpa Kay use the phrase before so I knew it was a doozie, and, well, my brother was a pain in the behind. I figured he deserved it.
Once the words left my tongue, and my brother went straight to blab to the parental units I knew I was in deep doodoo.
My father erupted into his room, where I had holed up awaiting my sentence, and he was steaming mad. He immediately yelled at me, but not for calling my brother names, but for calling my mother a name. I was totally baffled. I didn't know what he was talking about, but he soon explained just exactly what my phrase meant in all its graphic detail and I was mortified. I had never meant to call my mother anything of the sort. I was terribly embarrassed and I even asked my father to ground me for eternity I think.
My father, of course, scared me out of my wits for a while but ultimately forgave me (I think he was just messing with me to teach me a lesson). I have never forgotten that exchange. Not because I thought it mean or because it scared me, but because it showed me the respect my father had for my mother. He was willing to kick my butt to preserve and defend her honor.
I always appreciated that.
As a young boy, I once made the egregious mistake of calling my brother a "Son of a %#&$". I was in third grade and I'd heard my Grandpa Kay use the phrase before so I knew it was a doozie, and, well, my brother was a pain in the behind. I figured he deserved it.
Once the words left my tongue, and my brother went straight to blab to the parental units I knew I was in deep doodoo.
My father erupted into his room, where I had holed up awaiting my sentence, and he was steaming mad. He immediately yelled at me, but not for calling my brother names, but for calling my mother a name. I was totally baffled. I didn't know what he was talking about, but he soon explained just exactly what my phrase meant in all its graphic detail and I was mortified. I had never meant to call my mother anything of the sort. I was terribly embarrassed and I even asked my father to ground me for eternity I think.
My father, of course, scared me out of my wits for a while but ultimately forgave me (I think he was just messing with me to teach me a lesson). I have never forgotten that exchange. Not because I thought it mean or because it scared me, but because it showed me the respect my father had for my mother. He was willing to kick my butt to preserve and defend her honor.
I always appreciated that.
posted by Cool Dad at Saturday, September 17, 2005
2 Comments:
i have always tried very hard not to use particularly diparaging words when swearing, mainly because i may hurt someone unintentionally. hi, here via michele! :)
Ooooooh, he got you good. I'm sure that your brother deserved being called something, however, I'll have to agree with Grandpa, probably not a good choice to bring your mom into it.
Happy Birthday Grandpa Jones!
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