Lessons for Sons from Dads

I often see books and advice columns with helpful incites from mothers to daughters or fathers to daughters but never advice for sons.  Perhaps it’s part of life’s initiation – the old fashioned views that girls should be guided along and boys should find out on their own.  Now with a son of my own it has dawned on me that my father left me with a wealth of knowledge that I will gladly pass along as situations arise.  Until such time – here are a few:

-Treat your mother with respect – she brought you into this world, and if you don’t, I can quickly take you out of it – or at least ground the shit out of you until you’re 18.

-Listen to your elders – ALL OF THEM.  They have one thing you cannot possibly attain – more life experience than you.

-Learn how to cook – Even if it is a few simple items such as spaghetti or chicken soup.  You will become self-sufficient, save money and possibly impress the hell out of your future spouse or drunken roommates.

-Avoid fights until you can’t – and when you can’t avoid any longer – punch the asshole as hard as you can in the center of his face.  If he gets up-do it again.  Don’t ever use a knife in a fight.  You were given fists for a reason and no matter how good you think you may be – there is always someone better.

-Don’t run with scissors-please don’t make me explain this.  Ever.

-Get involved in athletics – It will teach you most of what you need to know about discipline, competition, how to be humble when you win, and most importantly, how to handle situations when you lose.

-Be loyal to family and friends – they are everything you have that makes good times good and all you have to lean on when times are bad.

-Make an effort to understand girls – they have different needs and different priorities.  If you do not attempt to learn some of them your life and your relationships will be difficult at best.  Pretty much just tell them they are always right even if they’re not.

-”Does this dress make me look fat?” and “Do I look pretty?” are by no means valid questions.  They are not questions at all.  They are a demand statement letting you know that you have not given a compliment lately.  I cannot stress how imperative it is to answer this “question” as fast as humanly possible.  I mean before the last syllable leaves their lips or you will be in a world of hurt that you never knew existed.

-Treat your significant other the way you would want your mother to be treated.

-Protect your sister viciously.  Even if she is older than you – she will need you throughout the rest of your lives and you better be there for her.

-It’s ok to cry

-Dance with the girl that brung you.  This was one of your Grandfather’s favorite sayings.  It does not apply solely to relationships.  Just a reminder that you should stick with something because it works.

-Do your best to avoid drugs – you will be confronted throughout life with opportunities and I hope to Christ the love and education that you receive will make you make the correct decision.

- I am going to embarrass you quite a bit – especially when you are a teenager.  This is not intentional – you are just going to go through a phase where I’m not as cool as you once thought I was.  You will learn once you get out of this phase that I was, in fact, that cool.  Probably even cooler.

-Seriously I can’t harp on this enough.  Don’t even pick up the effing scissors.

I wish so badly you could have met him – but everything written above came from his mouth.  I hope to be as good a Dad to you as he was to me.

This is a shot of your Granddad - that entire ensemble was carefully planned. Right down to my Jams.

The Times They are a Changing

I was inspired this weekend to start a little early Christmas shopping.  The urge was sparked with the arrival of our Vermont Country Store Catalog.  So in typical fashion I sat down on my couch with some coffee and turned on the TV to find an apropos show to watch while skimming the pages for the perfect gift for Mom.  I obviously had to look no farther than the epic “Anaconda III – Offspring” starring none other than David Hasselhoff as “Hammett”.  Who could forget the style and grace with which he delivered his powerful line “where there’s blood, there’s more blood.”  Seriously the worst goddamn movie I’ve ever seen – but like any train wreck I could not look away.

Does this wifebeater make me look fat?  Nope, your man child legs and italian slippers do.

After the distraction lost it’s appeal I dove back into the catalog.  What to get for Mom for Christmas.  The magazine prides itself on gifts from the yesteryear.  A sort of nostalgic look back to the way things were (and according to people whose first names are Gardner, Cabot and Lyman) still are.  Ooooh perhaps a tin of Walnettos or maybe a tasty pack of Beeman’s chewing gum would be perfect for the holiday season.

Please – take a piece because it tastes like shit and I don’t want to hurt my son’s feelings.

Mom always likes flannel pajamas – that might be perfect for chilly winter nights. And what better to accompany PJs than the complete set of Garrison Keilor and Lake Wobegon and The Prairie Home Companion?  Oh man I’m on a roll now.  This is going to be the best Christmas list ever compiled.  Mom’s gonna be over the moon when she opens these on the greatest morning of the year.  Let’s see what else…L’air du Temps perfume, Kiehl’s soap, Hummell Dolls – Yes!  Dutch rumballs, Marzipan candy, vibrators, Australian sheepskin slippers…wait…what was that…no couldn’t be…flip back to page 57….oh…my…holy…fuck….

What the hell does this do?

How did that happen?  How was the innocence of my favorite holiday  torn out of my heart?  Who the hell thought it was a good idea to start selling “personal massagers” in the Christmas edition of my beloved catalog?  When I think of Christmas and the holidays and Tiny Tim arriving on the shoulders of Bob Cratchett emphatically declaring “God bless us Everyone!!”  he does not have a bag of vibrators for the missus.   He brings a bag of cheer and hope for all mankind!

Perhaps in my old age I am becoming a prude or just not keeping up with the times.  A coworker had to explain the inner workings of Hulu and the value of a wifi hotspot created with a cell phone to me the other morning.  But then I get on the defensive and think “please leave my Christmas alone.”

I’m horrified thinking of what the Valentine’s edition is going to feature.  Ah yes the  Orson Welles fleshlight will be on the cover.  There’s an oldie but a goodie.

It’s a Neighborly Day in the Beauty….Would you be

I don’t like most people.  I keep a certain amount of people close to me that I genuinely love and consider my friends.  For them I will do most anything.  If you’re outside of this group of people I kindly tell you to go fuck yourself when I see the time has come.  No hard feelings – I’ve just no use for you or your beliefs or maybe your haircut bothered me last Tuesday.  It could be that you don’t contribute anything to what I consider society or perhaps it’s because you wear mom jeans and you’re a dude.

You’ll love the pleated front and 9 inch zipper

I’m not sure where I developed this attitude – especially when I consider that my childhood was somewhat idyllic and I’m pretty sure June Cleaver popped in once in a while to say hello.  I knew everyone on my street and everyone knew me.  I used to play wiffleball with a 65 year old neighborly woman named Betty.  One day Betty “moved away to Florida” much like my first dog Rachel after she tore a hole in my calf one morning because I was a clumsy little shit that jumped off the couch without looking.  Only come to find out Betty didn’t move to Florida at all – Betty instead racked up massive amounts of gambling debt, unbeknownst to her family, and killed herself.  It would be 15 years before either of those diddies were dropped on me – but in my perfect little world that didn’t happen.  We just set one less place setting for the Fourth of July cookout and there was one less dog to walk.

So the idea of living in a neighborhood that is a perfect circle with one way in and one way out seemed like a dreamy concept hearkening back to the days of oatmeal made from scratch (construction paste) and homemade hot chocolate

Yeah let’s not get Swiss miss – let’s boil the shit out of some milk until a “skin” forms across the top – after we peel back that fucker and stir in raw cocoa it’s going to taste fantastic.

Come to find out living in a neighborhood as an adult is a hell of a lot more work than the effort necessary to be a child in said neighborhood.  It becomes apparent that we can divide people into three categories.  Great neighbors, Acquaintance neighbors and the “Oh My Christ how the balls did Darwin’s theory not exterminate your family line 3 generations ago” neighbors.

I obviously love Great neighbors – they are there to lend a hand and the favors are gladly reciprocated in the name of being neighborly.  Sunday afternoons mean football games and getting the kids together to hopefully tire them out so they go to bed on time.

Acquaintance neighbors are great in that they don’t mettle in your daily goings on.  There are the quick waves while driving through the neighborhood and they are perfect for conversation rescuing at block parties when you are cornered by a dreaded fucktard.  There may be some “quirks” to them but it is tolerable in the grand scheme of things.

Janie is such a sweet little girl but I’m still on the fence about her father

Darwin neighbors are the reason I don’t like people.  They cannot coexist in the little forced commune that has become my neighborhood.  The lack of emotional intelligence is astounding.  ”No I don’t think Rick Astley is talented nor do I think he is on the verge of a comeback and quite frankly I find lawn ornaments fucking disturbing” should not come out of my mouth on a casual walk around my neighborhood with my children on a Saturday morning.

So as we approach this coming holiday season, please place your neighbors and acquaintances into their appropriate buckets.  It will ensure an enjoyable time is had by all and will keep your neighborhood neighborly.

And please tell the Darwin neighbors they should “move to Florida”