prune picker

This is the blog of a prune picker. (Native born Californian) Retired oilfield. I am an old man. I blog a lot about my body and getting old. As I approach death life gets more interesting. More interesting is not good. I still drive. I attend sports, music, and civic events. I am writing my memoirs. I attend swim class three times a week. Some of my blogs might be interesting. A lot of my blogs are silly and trivial. None are very long.

Monday, November 19, 2012

I never said, "I love you, Dad".

I am pretty sure that I never told my Father that I loved him. I do not believe that he ever said that he loved me. Our lives were the worst for that lack. I have had people tell me that they love me. It is nice. My Father was a big part of my pre teen years. At one time my home only had two occupants, my Dad and I. At that time my Father suffered a stroke that left him paralyzed on his left side for the rest of his life. I have been on my own since that time. Age 13.

I have been thinking about my Dad a lot lately. I soon will be joining him. I try to bring up pleasant memories. There are some. However, we never did fun things together. My Father was busy with his social life. He loved the ladies.

I loved my Dad and I am sure that he loved me. He was a handsome rugged looking guy. I think that he looked like John Wayne. He was lean and tanned from many years of hard farm and construction work. He was a teamster when that meant working with horses. At one time he had a business working a team of horses that he owned. They were named Bert and Beck.

He fell on hard economic times in the depression. I can remember being hungry. One time I came home and all of our furniture was piled up in the front yard due to the rent not being paid.

I do remember many lectures from my Dad. Several wise sayings such as honesty is the best policy and anything worth doing is worth doing right. My Father was very adamant about the correct way to treat ladies. Open doors for them. Anyone your age or older was to be addressed as "mam". I remember being required to stay at home for 30 days. I was too old for Dad to use his razor strop on me. My Dad said that I had neglected to say "mam" to my Aunt Mae. I do not think that I had committed such a grievous sin but he said I was guilty. He won the argument.

I am going to try in the last years of my life saying "I love you" a whole lot. So here goes,

"I LOVE YOU, DAD".


6 comments:

  1. I love that you give stories of your dad but I don't sense any bitterness. No one is a perfect parent and it is the hardest job in the world. We just have to take what we have and make the best of it. I love you!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thanks. I love you. Whoever you are.

    ReplyDelete

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