As of late my mind keeps going back to the time my dad was punishing us and made my older brother do wall squats in front of us and hold the position until my brother started to cry (I think we were around 10 yrs old at the time) then told us siblings to look at our brother and told us that he is a pussy
My dad is a Linux user so I guess being introduced to Linux lmao
Also the time he built a bluetooth boombox. And the time he modified old Roombas to be remote controlled.
One of us!
My dad did so much right, but his one failing was financial. He was an insurance salesman and had plenty of money when I was very young, but at some point it all dried up and he seemed unable to make more. He didn’t starve or anything, but at a certain point my brother had to step in and buy his house or he was going to lose it.
So now, I’m very cognizant of my spending and always having a good cash reserve.
But, he was also extremely generous when he did have money. His favorite way to spend money was on the people he loved and to make them happy.
So now, I also give freely. If it makes someone I love happy, and I can afford it, I’ll give them whatever I think might make them smile, if even for a day
When he grabbed my by the throat and lifted me up a wall. Because i hit a door jam with a table leg, while moving it from the living room to the kitchen so he WOULDNT get pissed.
Mine chased me up the stairs and kicked me in the kidney.
I had disagreed with him on something.
I love my dad, but I can only really think about the time he slammed my head through a wall when I was a teenager. I don’t even remember what I did that pissed him off enough to do it. It’s the only time he ever laid hands on me.
Kolanaki lore
I’m pretty sure most parents have moments where we want to slap the shit out of our teenagers. I’ve never done it but I’ve certainly been tempted a few times.
I remember one time I was upset with my mom about something. I think I called her a bitch to her face. She whipped around, scowled, and punched me square in the face. It didn’t even hurt that bad. It just caught me off guard because it was way out of character for her. She was normally the cool, laid-back parent. Right or wrong, she made her point. That was the first and last time I ever said anything like that to her.
When I was lime 6 or 7 he told me that he broke a gay guy’s nose because he hit on my dad at a rest stop bathroom.
Him not being a part of my life for about 20 years. We’ve since reconciled to the point where we visit each other about twice a year and call every few months, but the relationship will always be a bit strained.
My dad wasn’t perfect, but he always did what was best for my mom and I. He worked his ass off doing a number of labor jobs (carpentry, mechanic, electrical, plumbing, etc) and was a jack of all trades. He dropped out his sophomore year in the 70s to help support his parents when his dad had a stroke and just kept working the labor jobs. He was well known enough in the plumbing business that when Disney was planning another hotel they asked for him by name to lead the plumbing project.
When all that hard labor caught up with him and he had his back surgery, it threw him on his ass and disability. He still kept working on stuff after recovering, rebuilt his uncle’s Willy’s he had found, swapping motors out of his truck when he eventually killed it, doing home renovations, everything. All while trying to teach my dumbass some of what he knew so I’d know something useful. I learned a lot from him, but not nearly all of what he knew. He was a stubborn hard ass so he liked things done a certain way and would sometimes get frustrated if I wasn’t doing it right, but never in a “I’m going to scream at you because you fucked up” kinda way.
It took me until he was diagnosed with cancer to realize why he had always been a hard ass and pushing me to do better, he didn’t want me to follow his footsteps and he stuck doing these hard labor jobs, destroying my body like he did his. Sorry that didn’t work out, old man.
It’s not really a particular memory of my dad that impacted me, it’s basically his whole memory of him that did. I’ve had lots of great memories with him, but everything he always did was for his family first, he was very selfless. I wouldn’t be who I am today without my dad.
Happy father’s day, dad. Miss you.
To this day I still can’t tolerate the smell of cigarette smoke.
It killed him in the end, of course, but we’d lost contact for several years by then. I wouldn’t be surprised if it kills me too, even though I haven’t directly smoked a cigarette in my life; my lungs definitely accumulated enough crap over my childhood to kill several grown men; couldn’t breathe properly until I was an adult.
I don’t think he ever quite readjusted to civilian life after his time in World War II. He talked of it constantly, watched documentaries and war pictures.
There are few greater antipoles to me and “my whole thing” than my dad, but… He taught me the value of being cautious, and to take time to extensively evaluate pros and cons before I made important decisions. I took that ball and ran with it, and now I am routinely praised by my peers for my ability to foresee potential pitfalls and preemptively negate them, and reflexively I think of my dad who would suggest that it was just common sense.
Of course it’s not just “common sense” – but rather a curious mindset and an intentional thought process – and you instilled that in me, Dad. Thank you.
“It’s ok son. Don’t listen to her. Your mother is fucking insane.”
It’s a tie between him repeatedly raping my sister in our shared room while I was present and when he shot my viszla in front of me. Good times, dad. Happy father’s day.
I flat celebrated my father’s death. The upside was he instilled equality of gender well, and considering the 80s that wasn’t common around middle USA.
Father’s Day is complex for me. Balancing my adult daughter bringing it for me vs memories of mine takes effort.
I have so many stark lasting memories of my dad, good and bad it’s hard to pick the one with the greatest impact.
Maybe the time I watched him have an allergic reaction to an ssri that ended in 6 cops beating him unconscious and dragging him to jail.
Maybe the time he unprompted pulled $800 out of his wallet and handed it to the lady at the laundry mat who was stressed about paying her rent that month.
Maybe the time my friends and I showed up at 2am with bath salts and he did a little toot with us.
Maybe the time he sat with me in the kitchen until the wee hours of the night playing chess while I cried about being broken up with for the first time.
