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"Nothing has a stronger influence...on...children, than the unlived life of the parent."
-Carl Jung
My dad.
My dad is the oldest known human being ever to have lived. He'll tell you so. He's been too old to do ____________ (fill in the blank) since he was 40. I can remember back to conversations we would have where he was so full of regret. Regret for getting married when he was nineteen. Regret for not going to college. That was a biggy! Regret for not traveling. Regret for not sticking his neck, even just a little. My dad is now 68, and now he truly is getting to old to do some of the things he wanted to do back then, but didn't, and that fills him with regret.
All of this has taught me to live really hard, and really good and my way. Not selfishly or anything, but truly I'm living MY WAY. I didn't finish college either. That was my choice and I realize that. I bailed because I had no direction, I left because I didn't want a degree in Business. Thanks to my pop's sorrow/regret, I can consider my self successful. I'm not necessarily wealthy, but I do well and I truly love more aspects of my life than not.
Here's a hoot, even though I didn't finish college, I was an adjunct professor a few years ago at the one of our local colleges. Granted the school was pretty hard up for help and I was freelancing at the time so I was pretty hard up for food. I taught a design class 3 days a week for a semester. I think, my dad was more proud of that than my brother's Master of Theology. I guess it was validation he needed. I guess I'm telling you about it 'cause... it's validation for me too.
I hope this post doesn't give you the impression that the old man is a loser. On the contrary, he's done well. His peers consider him successful. Too bad for him he doesn't realize it.
My dad got old too fast.
I on the other hand, may need to grow up a bit more.
Exhibit A:
On a summer trip with guys (it's dubbed "The Annual Mantrip"...scared? ...say scared.) a year or so ago up in the mountains we came across a flowing stream that had a beautiful cascade of water over a bunch of rocks. Absolutely picturesque. Do we fish? No. Do we gaze at God's wonder? No. Do we take lovely pictures of the beautiful fauna? No. IT'S FLOWING WATER, OVER ROCKS... Fuck it...WE DIVE IN!!!
Well the water is not obeying the natural laws of physics because it's 208 degrees below zero! It's liquid fucking nitrogen!!! Does that stop us? What you think we are pussies?!? Hell no, we just drink warmer beer! It was almost fun. We were on the rocks sliding down into the chilled waters of north Georgia stream. We are men! HEAR US SNORE! Anyway, back to the story, I've always been the adventurous one of the bunch (read "stupid when liquored up") so I figure sitting on my ass on the rock then scooching down until you picked up speed was for little men. I decide, no, I postulated that getting a good running start and diving on the rock belly first would enhance the fun. When I came to, I was back at the cabin, neatly tucked in my sleeping bag. Seems I had drifted off and lost a few hours of my conscienceness.
Exhibit B:
I am a kite freak! I love flying kites, although I now know that it's best done when there's at least a slight breeze.
Last March on what seemed to be a rather breezy day, I break out my $100 super-dooper, "who's the guy with the bad-ass kite" kite. I get it all "lined up" and start trying to get it off the ground. Normally, I'd just give it a quick tug and it'd be airborne. Not this time, this time I'm in front of a crowd. This time I'm on asphalt. This time I do that really stupid looking backwards run, yanking like a son-of-a-bitch trying to get the dead albatross to fly. Well as you can well imagine, I don't jog backwards very well. Especially when I'm trailing "the bad-ass kite" kite. So my legs get twisted up and I wind up on my butt. Not just on my butt though, but actually on my spine. I compress my spine.
I used to be over six feet tall. Now, I'm pushing 5' 10.75". I shrunk over and inch and a quarter thanks to this slip of sanity.
Exhibit C:
A couple of Christmases ago, we had gotten my kid a Razor scooter. You know the skateboard that has the steering column on it. On Christmas morning I'm out in front my house on the scooter, you know just making sure it's "safe". Who am I kidding, I wanted to ride the damned thing all day! Anyway, I'm up on it for maybe all of six seconds when I roll over a pebble that gets stuck in the front wheel... I'm over the handlebars on my face in the middle of the cul-de-sac. The scooter IS safe, just not for me. Fun yes, graceful no.
Exhibit D:
I am a demigod at SSX, and SSX Tricky on Playstation II.
Exhibit E:
There is no better holiday than Halloween. I like to dress up. I like scaring the shit out of kids, I'm talking "therapy-required scared". I like haunted houses/trails.
A few years ago I dressed up like Holandra, the Russian Gymnast. I wore full-length sports tights, a bikini top, an Olympic number and a blonde wig with pigtails. Keep in mind I'm totally hetero, so the hairy chest and the deep FM kind of voice made for a great juxtaposition.
Since it is getting close to Halloween, I'll be telling THE ghost story next post.
10/9/2003 11:58:42 PM
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