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A Road Trip with Dad

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“The time is always right to do what is right.”

—Martin Luther King, Jr.

road-trip-bigotry

Today’s story is from Kathy Hansen.

Another state line. Another state sign.
Welcome to North Carolina!

a road trip with dad

Kathy (left) with dad Paul, mom Cora, brother & sister

Remember those road trips when you were a kid? Twenty questions. Songs. Counting cows. Name that car. State capitols. Word games. The hours drug on. Are we there yet? How much longer?

Now imagine a journey of two and half days. Every summer, that’s what we did. Grandma and Grandpa waited anxiously for us to pull in.

My name is Kathy. I was just 10. From Syracuse, New York to Florida we drove. In 1956, before interstates, it was a slog of almost three days. Maps, coolers, snacks, suitcases, plus Mom, Dad, me, my two brothers and sis. The car so packed it was fused to explode. Dad drove, Mom beside him. Me, my brothers and sister crammed in the back.    READ MORE 

How Do You Know When Your Dad is Mad?

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“No one can lie, no one can hide anything, when he looks directly into someone’s eyes.”

—Paulo Coelho

by Greg Hague

Stark white rims. Dark rose lenses. “Guessing Glasses,” according to Dad. “I have to guess how she feels!” Dad said.

How can you tell when your dad is mad?

Mom in her ‘Guessing Glasses’

The year the company discontinued “her style,” she bought all they had. White rims. Dark rose lenses. Mom’s guessing glasses. One day I asked, “Mom, what’s the deal with the white sunglasses? Always the same pair. You never take them off.”

She smiled, “Greg, how do you know when your dad is mad?” That’s easy, I thought. “The vein in his forehead pops out,” I replied.   

“Exactly,” Mom said. “It’s a signal, right?” I nodded in agreement. I knew this well. (Pay attention. This next part is good.)

“That’s why I wear sunglasses,” Mom whispered. “What do you mean?” I asked.    READ MORE 

Dad’s Wisdom on the Basics of Living

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“It is a wise father that knows his own child.”

—William Shakespeare

Today’s story is from Katie McDevitt.

College graduation. Celebration for most. Bittersweet for me.

Dad's wisdom

Mom (Ellen), Brother (Ryan), Katie & Dad (Jim)

The man who got me there wasn’t there. He died a year ago. Kidney failure. At 45. Too young. Not fair.

Graduating without Dad didn’t feel right. Actually, it wasn’t right. My father knew it was coming. We had time to talk. Not enough time to catch all of dad’s wisdom, of course.

So he left me a letter. It was two years before I could read it for the first time. The letter was not just about love or how much he cared. I knew. He knew I knew.

It was about how to lead a happier life. Four nuggets of dad’s wisdom. Not esoteric stuff. Dad was not that kind of guy. It was common sense guideposts for living more right. Dad would be honored to know his wisdom might help you in some way.    READ MORE 

Left-handed Hammers? Trust Your Gut

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“Trust yourself. You know more than you think you do.”

—Benjamin Spock

by Brian Hague

I was lucky growing up. I had a really great dad. But there was another man who treated me like a son. His name was Gary.

dad's hammer

My other dad, Gary

Back in 1992, I was 14. Gary promised to help me build a new skateboard ramp. We were at Home Depot, buying wood and supplies. “Brian, go grab a left-handed hammer,” he said.

Left-handed hammer? Sounded funny. Didn’t Gary have a hammer? Well, maybe it broke. I scurried away. Left-handed hammer? Easy. Shouldn’t take long.    READ MORE 

My Dad Chubby Was My Mentor

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“Hard work spotlights the character of people: some turn up their sleeves, some turn up their noses; some don’t turn up at all.”
—Sam Ewing

by Greg Hague

my dad, my mentor

My ‘no-eyelids’ dad

When I was a kid, Dad didn’t sleep. On weekdays, he’d leave each morning at 8, stay at the office all night, come home at first light, shower, shave, a quick plate of eggs, a hug for Mom, and back at it again.

It was Saturday morning. I munched Sugar Pops. Chubby ate eggs. “Dad,” I said, with a curious face, “On weekdays, why don’t you sleep?”

Chubby peered up from his plate, eyes double big-big.

He said,

“Didn’t Mom tell you? I was born without eyelids.”

I stared into Dad’s pupils. No eyelids? Yeah, right!    READ MORE 

Savvy Dad on Worry and War

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“Worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow,
it only saps today of its joy.”

-Leo Buscaglia

by Greg Hague

October ’62. Cuba. Missiles. Blockade. Nuclear War? I am 14…old enough to know the mess we are in. A U.S. U-2 spy plane takes photographs of Soviet SS-5 land-based nuclear missiles 99 miles off our coast. Staged in Cuba, they are pointed at us.

Dad Says Why Worry?Soviet Foreign Minister Andrei Gromyko sternly warns the U.S., “Don’t attack Cuba.” To liven things up, Soviet warships head our way. Our military is at DEFCON 2, the highest ever. Newspapers, television, radio; conversations at work, school and play focus on nuclear war.

In class, our teacher graphically illustrates the effects of nuclear fallout. Day after day, we practice nuclear attack drills (essentially, we hide under our desks).
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Adventures with Dad

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“No, no! The adventures first, explanations take such a dreadful time.”

—Lewis Carroll

by Greg Hague

Summer of ‘88. Flagstaff, AZ. Camping with Dad & Roseann. My name is Corey. I was 6. My brothers: Casey was 5. Brian at 9.

Adventures with Dad

Casey, Corey, and Brian dressed for adventure

We begged and begged Dad, adventure this time! “Hunting,” we said, “We’re ready to die.” Older brother Brian carried the weapon of choice, a BB gun full. Also, our sack of dried peaches for fuel.

I sported a Rambo knife. Little brother Casey had plastic Chinese throwing stars and foam nunchuks affixed to his side. Dad carried my compass so we wouldn’t get lost. Camouflage, bandanas, and black face paint; off we marched into the woods.

Dad strolled down the trail as we darted around. We crunched in the leaves and hid behind trees. It was a blast. As we emerged from a ditch, I thought The trail’s not there! Dad sat on a stump, a few feet away.    READ MORE