My Dad

Well here I am still sicker than ol Joe Coot’s dog. I don’t know who Joe Coot was and I sure didn’t know his dog but my Dad used to say that so I say it. Dog must have been powerful sick. My Dad used to say lots of things. Most of the stuff is not fit for a family type blog so I won’t travel that path. My Dad was a carpenter. He used to say if it was good enough for Jesus it was good enough for him but said he never believed in Jesus. It was the oddest thing. When I was a kid, Dad used to read the newspaper cover to cover every night. One of the things in the newspaper back then was a column by Billy Graham. For as long as I can remember, he would read that deal every day and was pretty knowledgeable about the Bible but always claimed there was no God. He worked large construction jobs most of his younger life. That brought a certain type of gruffness and toughness that was the norm in that life. He drank whiskey and water and said he liked the taste. I can only remember seeing him feelin the effects a couple of times and that wasn’t because he didn’t do much drinkin. Don’t get me wrong. He wasn’t a drunk but if there was an occasion he wouldn’t say no to a shot. We hunted and fished together and in later years went on a few trips. Our trips were me and him jumpin in a truck and headin down into the states to catch a few baseball games or a race or both if we could swing it. He liked baseball but I think he only went to the racin cause I liked it. We spent many a night sittin in a hotel room a talkin and drinkin whiskey. No one got called by their real name. At least no one that he cared about. Everyone had a nic name. I was 10 years old before I knew my name wasn’t Augie. Yep, nic named me after that cartoon dog, Augie Doggie. Later in life he called me Mac. Don’t know why, never asked. He just called me that.
I remember one winter when I still lived at home I built a motor for a friend in our basement. Big block Ford V8. Did a fine job too. Now I was a little slow in the head. Never thought about how I was going to get it out of the basement when the time comes. Anyway, I gets her built and now we need to get her up the stairs. This thing was about 600 lb., maybe more, Me and my brother dragged it to the bottom of the stairs and we are talkin and figurin and talkin and grunting and groaning and talkin and tryin to get this thing up the stairs. Dad comes in and in his typical way commands us to get on the front of the motor and he will take the back. Well, me and my brother gets hold of the front and he grabs onto the back and up she comes one stair. Now we can go one stair at a time but he is holdin the back of that motor himself. Anyway to make a long story short she went up the stairs and he never blinked an eye. I am tellin ya, that was a real ego smasher for a couple of teenage bucks that thought they were as strong as all get out. Once she was outside he put her down mumbles something about bein stupid for building a motor in the basement and went on his way. I’ll never forget that. Man, that cat was strong.
Then his strength went away. In his early 50s he started havin trouble breathin. His heart was givin out. Doc said it was just plum wore out, no blockages or anything, just wore out and he would have to change is life if he wanted to keep on goin. He did change a little. He quit smokin and changed his eatin habits some but things just kept going down. Every month he got a little weaker and could do a little less. Heart attacks had him in and out of the hospital. Then, he died in November of 89. I never got to say good bye. Got the call at work and that was that. Done deal. I have been thinkin about him allot lately because of the time of year and all. He was good people. He was my best male friend and I trusted him more than any person on this earth. My son has taken his place in my life now.
Well I am not sure where that all came from but now you have met my dad. Never intended to write about him but it just kind of came out.
Tell next time.