When my mom and dad were still together as husband and wife, my mom took on part time jobs here and there outside of the house to bring in extra cash. My earliest recollection of this is from an age where I think most of us think that kids don’t remember things. I must have been 3 years old, 4 at the very latest. We were living in Fairfield, Ohio on a street named Creech Lane. Mom was working part time as a server at a place called The Kitten Lounge. I saw her in uniform only once or twice, but I very clearly recall the uniform included black stockings and I really have a memory of a fuzzy tail or maybe it was a long tail since it was a ‘kitten’ lounge. (Years of therapy have finally gotten rid of my nightmares).
In our high school years, is there anything more stressful, more demanding or more public than our love lives? If you ‘go with someone’, everyone knows about it. Breakup; it’s buzzed from ear to ear in a rate equaling the speed of a Japanese bullet train. Today it’s even more public and faster; relationships begin at school, (or maybe Tinder if you’re older), they’re announced in Facebook, (sometimes with a “marriage”), and break ups are coordinated in Facebook so as to help the breakup end cordially, without additional drama. In my day, it was no less stressful, but the act of breaking up was not as immediate as it is today. Oh no – you got to see it coming, carefully stalking you like a cheetah on a gazelle and then when you knew that it was all over, BAM, your heart was suddenly being chewed on. Continue reading
Our cars drive us back and forth from where we are and where we’re going.
Almost everyone I’ve ever met in my life has said that they remember the details of every single place they lived in and every single car they ever owned. Well, ok – all the men remember all the cars. My wife can recall the details of every single golf course we’ve played on, but has blocked out most of the memories of our vehicles. We spend most of our time on this earth in our homes. The mere act of sleeping can account for a 1/3rd of our lives, (or 50% for our teenage kids).
Most of us fondly recall our cars as well; there are stories and memories associated with every single one we ever owned or leased. Several of my blog stories have been, or will be, written around one of our cars. I wanted, however, to write a single documentary story that would list every vehicle Kim and I have owned in our adult lives. That doesn’t sound too exciting, does it? I’ll try to spice it up where I can but if for nothing else, this story is at minimum, for me (as are all of my stories). For if I didn’t enjoy reading what I’ve written, then writing these would be a horrible waste of time. Time is what we have to make love and memories. Love and memories take us further than our cars. Continue reading
Tomorrow is Father’s Day, (as I am writing this). Two days ago my new daughter-in-law sent me a couple of nice cards and a drawing from my grandson. I had not yet realized until the cards came in the mail that Father’s Day was around the corner. Katherine’s, (my daughter-in-law), note inside the ‘father-in-law’ card was very nice and I appreciated the kind words.
I’m not quite sure how old I was when I realized I wanted to be a dad, but I was young. I’m guessing I was in tenth grade, early high school years. Since first grade, I pretty much always had a girlfriend, (read me), so I’m guessing that says something about me. Perhaps it says I need relationships or maybe it says I need a constant 1:1 relationship, like a marriage. I just know that at some point in my life, I always knew I would get married and I always knew I would be a father. I wanted to be a good dad and I’ve always been an observer, always trying to learn – both from good role models and from poor ones. Many a time can I remember some shitty thing my own dad had just done and thinking to myself that things will be different with my own kids. I guess that’s a common thought – repairing the sins of our fathers. Continue reading