My father spent over fifty years as a home builder. While he may not have a formal education, he could sure build a heck of a house. Still his talent for carpentry is closely rivaled by his narrative ability.
Today our community was left without power. As they say, idle hands are the devil’s workshop so unable to work today, my husband and I set to work manually bulldozing our overgrown yard.
Papa watches more tv than a prisoner in a low security prison, so being without power for him is like a day without oxygen. With nothing to do he hauled a lawn chair into the side yard to sit and watch us work. As I reached shoulder deep through the thorns to find the root of a vine that would have made Tarzan smile Papa says, “Dan. You should have been a guy. You work like a man.” It just occurs to he calls me “D” most days, but when I’m doing physical labor, I’m “Dan.”
When I was young I was tall for a girl, and strong. I wanted to be a carpenter like my dad. Or maybe an architect. I just wanted to build. Dad said no. “Women don’t do men’s work.” Still, he was proud as a peacock when at age 12 I could carry his 200 lbs around the house. He’d tell his friends, “My daughter can pull a plow.” Thanks Pop.
Papa has no filter. He doesn’t even know what a filter is. (those who know me are saying, “apple didn’t fall far from the tree”- zip it)
After dinner tonight, “How old is our friend next door?
“and still single?”
“he doesn’t like girls?”
I don’t watch a lot of tv, but I do look forward to a handful of shows each week. Papa likes to narrate. As in blow by blow. Which is kind of funny since he can watch an entire movie in a foreign language without noticing.
Watching Design Star; “That red head does a nice room, but she should do something about that body. I woke up with a fat broad once and never forgot it.”
Watching a commercial, “Is that a fish?” “I thought it was a dog. Ha! Then it jumped in the water.”
Another commercial, “is that Mr. Head?” pardon me? “Mr. Head. You know the horse. He talks.”
“Dad. Please be quiet.”