LESSONS FROM MY FATHER
LESSONS FROM MY FATHER
My father talked in “sayings”—trying to work at least one into every conversation.
“There is no good time for something bad to happen,” he said for the umpteenth time while I stood in front of him crying over an injustice.
Tired, really tired, of his lack of sympathy and verbal abuse, I stomped on his bare foot with the hard rubber cleats I was still wearing from field hockey. While he was doubled over on the shag carpet trying to rub out the pain, I asked, “Wouldn’t a better time for that to have been when you were wearing shoes?”
Later that evening he walked into my bedroom, grabbed my field hockey stick and said, “It might have been a better time but it certainly wouldn’t have been a good time.” Then, swinging my field hockey stick like a crazy man he trashed my room and said, “All’s well that ends well.”
He smiled at me cowering in the corner before walking out.
