Thursday, September 3, 2009

Things My Dad Taught Me




We all have things our dads taught us that we don't realize or appreciate until years later (unless you are one of the Menendez brothers). The other day I caught myself doing something that I specifically learned from my dad not directly but in a subconscious way. I needed to clean my shower, so what better way to do that than when I'm actually in the shower. You aren't worried about getting wet so you can really focus on the job. My dad does this all the time. He will get in the shower and instantly yell for the Tilex so we would jump to because that meant we wouldn't have to clean it later. Between him and my mom I've inherited a real ocd complex about cleaning things. Once I realized why I was cleaning the shower in the shower, I started to think about other things I learned from my dad not in lessons but in everyday situations. For example, during the summer the pothole crew would patch every mile in the county. They would usually stop at the church in the shade for lunch (our church is a mile from the house out in the country). If my dad saw them resting there, he would stop at Farmer's Corner on the way back from a parts run and buy a bunch of Pepsi. When he pulled up to the crew, and handed out the icy libations, the crew would tear up (well maybe not tear up but they enjoyed it). After a few of these exchanges, I asked my dad the rational behind it. He told me to observe the miles around the house and shop. Sure enough, we had the best patched roads in the county. I think my dad is some kind of genius (don't tell him I said that). He did the same thing for us and the hired help. Two or three afternoons a week, we could count on some cold beverages showing up. After throwing it back, we had a sense of obligation to really put our nose to the grindstone. Diabolical thinking. My dad always tried to work along side us and the hired help doing the crappy jobs to show that the job needed to be done and he wasn't above the fray. It worked, Now I always try to put some time in doing the butt jobs to show everybody we are all on the same level (not technically but emotionally?). Seriously my dad might be some kind of Freudian Master Jedi. I'm sure my dad isn't proud of this but he taught all of us kids how to swear. Just ask my littlest sister about days in the beet field. My dad wasn't a huge swearer and rarely swears in his old age but he taught us very important combinations of swear words and everyday objects that really opened my mind to all the glorious possibilities. This lesson can also be attributed to any of the old timers in the neighborhood since I've heard swear words over the pulpit.
I'm sure there are thousands of other little things that I don't remember or fully appreciate yet ie.. if you aren't going to do a job right don't do it at all. This never made sense to me because not doing the job at all never seemed to be an option. It sure would have saved me a lot of time and energy. But I digress. My dad has the patience of a saint once you realize he is the local employment agency when it comes to 12-17 year old white kids from the ward. But I suppose if he wasn't institutionalized trying to raise me and my siblings (mainly me), the man can probably handle anything.

2 comments:

Iowaspuds said...

Funny, I know another dad that is pretty similar. May be something in the genes, or moustaches...

This was great! I can relate for sure

Kaden and Mindi said...

Just so you know, my vocabulary has expanded to include other things besides curses. Well, most days anyway.