The words of my Father

It’s nearly Father’s Day, and I acknowledge the ache of missing him. I acknowledge the gratitude I have for my memories: the sound of his laugh popping into my mind at unexpected moments. The words and phrases that entertained, infuriated, taught and shaped me into this ever-changing lump of clay that will always be his daughter.

When I was a server:
If you put on some rouge, you’d make better tips.

While driving:
Get around this guy! He’s loafing in the left lane.

On the golf course:
Keep your head down. Don’t try to kill it.

On any professional athlete who showed poor sportsmanship:
He’s a bum.

When I playfully squeezed his bicep:
Be careful. You’ll hurt your hand.

Teaching me to drive a stick shift:
Again. Try it again.

At the end of any long list of questions:
Want a punch in the eye?

When pushed to the limit of his patience:
Gee Zuss Christ!

On any ex/bad boss/person:
(S)He’s a bum. (recurring theme)

Threats:
You better [whatever I was supposed to be doing] or I’m gonna land all over you!

After my haircut:
Your face is hanging out.

Dad: on the far right

Happy Father’s Day, Dad and all the dads still giving advice and tossing out one-liners.