I remember when Super Glue was the bomb. When I was roughly nine, I attempted to repair the slot thingy on a slot car. Not only did it rub off, and they hadn't invented anything to remove it completely, but I remember my index finger and thumb being stuck together for most of June and July of 1961.
Of course we learned what poison ivy and poison oak looked like, and we were aware, if it rubbed off on you you were in deep, itchy Doo Doo, subject to funny looks and a pint of Calamine lotion.
Uh oh, didn't realize 'wet paint', at least it ain't my Sunday best.
If one were to walk by my car today you'd find a dirty, dirty car, bugs aplenty, complete with an assortment of Mickey D and Burger King sacks, as well as a probably full ashtray. I ain't lying, several moons ago, my first car, me and Rubbing Compound/Turtle was, before Mr. Miyagi was in vogue, it was wax on, wax off, again and again, in attempt to rub off the dullness and restore the shine.
Shine represents a good place to get to the heart of this blog.
My father.
As you can see, he was one happy dude. He knew a little about a lot. Was a modern hubby before the modern hubby era....cooked, cleaned, laundry, etc.
He would be the first to tell me, "Calm down Victor, most all men, fathers are like that, so, don't make me out to be anything special."
If you say so Pa, but I gotta gotta gotta say, you chose to be happy. Infectiously happy.
He could be a little ornery. When he was in basic for the Army Air Corp, he somehow worked deals to get passes to all four mess halls on base. For kicks, he'd walk up to the Sergeant, wave all four passes, and say "Excuse me Sir, can you tell me which pass to use here?" Of course he'd get in trouble, but, you couldn't rub the smile off his face.
He'd tell very long stories, draw you in, then end it from right field with a corny (but very clever, creative) pun.
He could sing, especially when he cooked. He acted in plays. He learned all people are created equal and should be treated with respect.
When Liberty MO awarded all trash service to one hauler, he went ahead and also paid his buddy Bert to continue to take our trash weekly.
He loved all animals, kinfolk, smoking his pipe, driving 5 mph UNDER the speed limit, 2 lane road trips, and us.
Of course I'm biased, but he was a good dude.
Even though I surpassed his 5'6" stature long ago, I could never hold a candle to the father I knew.
The goal of living happily, has very much rubbed off though.
HÃ poy Father's Day to all dad's,
Love, Victurd
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