Semi jubliate agno
Jun. 19th, 2005 11:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
constanceI took my pops out to lunch this afternoon. He requested that we go to a local sports bar that makes its own potato chips, because after-church crowds tend to infuriate him (in more ways than one: many things piss him off, because he is an angry angry man, but Christianity in general is one of his hot buttons), and he figured we'd be pretty unlikely to run into the more devout segment of the local population there, and plus of course he'd also be able to watch the Braves/Reds game on a projection TV, and we ate burgers and chips and I gave him my sentimental, heartfelt gift in the form of a history of the Mafia and a couple of Lewis Black CDs, and I am pleased to report that it was a friendly lunch.
Lunches with my father can go either way, you see. That's the tricky thing about being my father's kid. You're constantly on watch for signs that things are about to Go Bad in a serious way, in which case we are treated to spectacles rarely seen outside, like, preschools for troubled children (I spoke with my longtime friend B today, and when I mentioned lunch, B's first question was, "Was he in a Towering Rage?"); but when things are good, and stay that way, Coach Sweetpea, as we've recently begun calling him, is great to be with, generous and amiable and expansive. The kind of father who gets up on the roof on Christmas Eve to stomp around like eight tiny reindeer, the kind who drives eight hours to make sure his daughter is safe and healthy, the kind who understands almost any kind of youthful excess because he did most of it himself, the kind who almost everyone has a funny story about.
Happy Father's Day, Dad.
Lunches with my father can go either way, you see. That's the tricky thing about being my father's kid. You're constantly on watch for signs that things are about to Go Bad in a serious way, in which case we are treated to spectacles rarely seen outside, like, preschools for troubled children (I spoke with my longtime friend B today, and when I mentioned lunch, B's first question was, "Was he in a Towering Rage?"); but when things are good, and stay that way, Coach Sweetpea, as we've recently begun calling him, is great to be with, generous and amiable and expansive. The kind of father who gets up on the roof on Christmas Eve to stomp around like eight tiny reindeer, the kind who drives eight hours to make sure his daughter is safe and healthy, the kind who understands almost any kind of youthful excess because he did most of it himself, the kind who almost everyone has a funny story about.
Happy Father's Day, Dad.
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Date: 2005-06-20 09:08 am (UTC)I am glad you had a good lunch date with your father. :-*
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Date: 2005-06-21 04:17 am (UTC):*!