My dad was a dairy farmer. While I ended up in IT, a field he knew nothing about, he supported me the entire way. He did not understand my field of interest beyond the fact it was something I was interested in.
On the flip side, everything I know about machine nery maintenance and repair I have from him. In my current field (an odd mix of It, industrial robotics and heavy machinery… On ships), this background works well, as it gives me the diverse background needed for such a diverse work place.
I don’t think there are anyone else in the company who can do VLAN and LACP trunks AND troubleshoot misbehaving hydraulics.
I think farm life and the military have put me in much the same situation.
When he grabbed me by the throat and pushed me up against a wall.
My dad did so much right, but his one failing was financial. He was an insurance salesman and had plenty of money when I was very young, but at some point it all dried up and he seemed unable to make more. He didn’t starve or anything, but at a certain point my brother had to step in and buy his house or he was going to lose it.
So now, I’m very cognizant of my spending and always having a good cash reserve.
But, he was also extremely generous when he did have money. His favorite way to spend money was on the people he loved and to make them happy.
So now, I also give freely. If it makes someone I love happy, and I can afford it, I’ll give them whatever I think might make them smile, if even for a day
When he grabbed my by the throat and lifted me up a wall. Because i hit a door jam with a table leg, while moving it from the living room to the kitchen so he WOULDNT get pissed.
Mine chased me up the stairs and kicked me in the kidney.
I had disagreed with him on something.
When he died, we all could finally breathe.
Unfortunately for mine, that stubborn son of a bitch is still hanging around into his 80’s, while the rest of his miserable family had the decent common courtesy to kick it in their 60’s & 70’s. I went no contact about a decade ago, but I still get to hear how much of a piece of shit he is from the rest of the family.
The only positive that came from him is that I turned out to be a better father than he did. I have a good relationship with my nearly adult kids.
There are few greater antipoles to me and “my whole thing” than my dad, but… He taught me the value of being cautious, and to take time to extensively evaluate pros and cons before I made important decisions. I took that ball and ran with it, and now I am routinely praised by my peers for my ability to foresee potential pitfalls and preemptively negate them, and reflexively I think of my dad who would suggest that it was just common sense.
Of course it’s not just “common sense” – but rather a curious mindset and an intentional thought process – and you instilled that in me, Dad. Thank you.
When I was lime 6 or 7 he told me that he broke a gay guy’s nose because he hit on my dad at a rest stop bathroom.
some fathers suck
that man is a racist, misogynistic, child beating, wife beating, cat killing, rapist piece of shit.
my very first memory, punching him in the nose and bloodying it when I was a 4yo because he wouldn’t stop picking on me and calling me a chicken-shit. He was proud of me and stopped picking on me after I finally hit him because I wasn’t acting like a chicken shit. He was likely drunk.
I dunno if he’s still alive but I hope he’s sad and lonely today because nobody on earth likes him much less his children.
“It’s ok son. Don’t listen to her. Your mother is fucking insane.”
Him not being a part of my life for about 20 years. We’ve since reconciled to the point where we visit each other about twice a year and call every few months, but the relationship will always be a bit strained.
I flat celebrated my father’s death. The upside was he instilled equality of gender well, and considering the 80s that wasn’t common around middle USA.
Father’s Day is complex for me. Balancing my adult daughter bringing it for me vs memories of mine takes effort.
It’s a tie between him repeatedly raping my sister in our shared room while I was present and when he shot my viszla in front of me. Good times, dad. Happy father’s day.
One time I fell backwards from the ladder to the treehouse my dad built. I summersaulted backwards like twice as I fell but I was completely fine. But the look of worry and how fast he ran is something I’ll never forget. It made me realize how much he cares.
I have so many stark lasting memories of my dad, good and bad it’s hard to pick the one with the greatest impact.
Maybe the time I watched him have an allergic reaction to an ssri that ended in 6 cops beating him unconscious and dragging him to jail.
Maybe the time he unprompted pulled $800 out of his wallet and handed it to the lady at the laundry mat who was stressed about paying her rent that month.
Maybe the time my friends and I showed up at 2am with bath salts and he did a little toot with us.
Maybe the time he sat with me in the kitchen until the wee hours of the night playing chess while I cried about being broken up with for the first time.
I don’t think he ever quite readjusted to civilian life after his time in World War II. He talked of it constantly, watched documentaries and war pictures.
