I am going through my 4th childhood, and about 15 years old.….okay, for the 4th time but, still a childhood of some sort. Perhaps merely a fantasy but, really let’s not quibble over minor details. Get it? Minor? Childhood? I honestly didn’t mean that but, I really do like puns.
It was customary when I was that age 1st time around, as it is today to back off from hanging out with your parents in the name of independence. I was no different than anybody else. I was just trying to be cool.
I was very fortunate to have my Dad around until I was very well in to my first term of adulthood. My Mom is still around but, it’s my Dad I’ll talk about, now.
I started my own declaration of independence at about age 13. The kids in the neighborhood were constantly visiting our household. My Dad seemed to be around in the background, and was well liked by, everyone. The kids would always say hello to him. He was just kind of there. He never imposed upon the kids to be included in any conversations we might be having at the time. Just went about his business.
He was quite talented. He could sing, he was an artist, enjoyed math, and loved playing with the language. He was actually rather quiet but, commanded attention wherever he was at any given time. His common sense was always being asked to perform by, his peers.
Our family was the recipient of his puns which were most often quite clever.
I have two brothers who teamed up with me in an alliance. After hearing another pun we would tell him in unison, his latest play on the language was as usual, horrible. He would always assume with each new pun, we would finally give him due credit with the appropriate response.
‘No? Really?’ He would be surprised each time staring at blank expressions from the alliance as he proudly gave us the punch line. This was a kind of family joke. We would always team up for the same response to him then, go somewhere out of sight, and earshot to laugh or, at least enjoy the pun. I told him about this, years later.
Using props, drawings, and an almost flawless fluency of the language, he was a brilliant teacher, and somehow conveyed that to others. He was magnetic, and would have been quite popular as a teacher in the school district. Not his chosen field.
He worked for Lockheed, and others making parts for airplanes. Later, his expertise was always brought in to the final design, as he caught several previous design flaws.
My Dad would spend time on the landscape, and exterior of the house. I believe, this is how the kids in the neighborhood got to know him. He’d be watering the lawn, and sure enough some of the kids would be around, just talking. He was a very good listener.
I remember hearing from some of the kids how lucky I was to have him. They really enjoyed being around him.
The girl from across the street was having problems hitting some high notes for music class. He helped her reach those unreachable notes. His special way of explaining Math, and English gave him a special place with kids mystified by the typical classwork. He became a source for advice for them with just a few key words.
This is counter to everything that was cool. I mean, I was suppose to be breaking away, pulling back. I was a teenager. It was my time for rebellion. You don’t need reasons, it’s the age. Part of that was, not hanging around with your parents.
I became the exception with an exceptional Father who, I miss to this day. I was cool for all the reasons nobody else could be cool. I was an exception. Hanging out with my Dad was cool.
