Bless Your Heart

So my father was in the area for the last few days. Hunting with my Uncle in SC. He drove up to take us to lunch yesterday. Now before I start this story I should give a quick explanation for you new readers. My parents divorced when I was young after a horrible marriage where my father beat my mother & us, grew & smoked pot, drank way too much and was an all around beast. It’s only been since my nephew Jacob was born that we’ve seen my father on any regular basis. He lives in Florida and we tolerate visits for the sake of the boys who think he’s just plain neato. We’ve come to the conclusion that if you don’t laugh you’ll cry. So we laugh. Loudly.

He talked to my sister first so she chose Chuck E. Cheese as our destination. I loathe the Cheese. I hate the over priced cardboard tasting pizza, the Cheese-y music piped in at an unGodly volume, the tiny little shot glasses they try to pass off as beverage cups, and especially the many, many surfaces I’m forced to touch that I know are teeming with the germs of a million unwashed sickly children.

But I go. Because I love my family. Anyway, it’s a good thing we went there since what should have been an hour or so affair turned into a 4 hour situation. But doesn’t it always? We were supposed to meet at 10 am. For pizza. When I pulled into the parking lot I couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the sight of an empty parking lot save my sister’s car. I went in and we played while we waited for Grandpa. And waited. And waited. We did have a situation that broke up the waiting a bit. You know those hamster tunnel things that the kids climb through? Jake and Joey would go up and play and come down the slide and everything was wonderful. Until they got separated. And then they couldn’t find the slide tunnel. And then there was screaming and freaking out. And since we were the only people in the place except for the workers, the screaming and the freaking out was loud. So Sara and I start yelling directions up toward the tunnels. Go right! Go to the blue tube! Turn around! All of this was totally unsuccessful. Jake sat staring at us through one of the little port holes just wailing. Literally a foot away from the tunnel of salvation, yet totally unable to process the directions we were yelling and gesturing. And we didn’t even know where Joey was in the maze.

There was only one option: Sara had to go in. Now these hamster tunnels are made for people who top out at about 3 feet tall. So this poor girl had to twist her body into some pretty funny angles to get to her children. I was safely on the ground laughing my ass off at the whole scene. Of course as soon as the kids caught sight of their mother they went back to the laughing, smiling children they always are.

I went back to the table and noticed I had a missed call from my step-mom. In Florida. I called her back to learn that my dad’s had a blow out on the highway a few miles south of where we were, but he didn’t have our cell numbers with him. So I went looking for him to make sure he could make it to us. I drove down past where he was supposed to be and got off then went to get back on the exit. It’s hard to try and track him down if you’re looking for a car because we never know what he’ll be driving. I’ve never known my father to drive the same automobile for more than a 6 month stretch. As I was coming down the exit ramp I saw him.

Laying on the ground on the highway shoulder was the man who fathered me in a sleeveless t shirt (perfect for hairy nipple glimpses!), carpenter jeans (he wears them Texas style-under the belly- apparently to provide maximum plumbers crack), Crocs (Naw, these here are Gators. Only $9 and I can walk twice as far as I used to.) and about a half gallon of sweat. When I turned my car off he started waving that he was alright and I could go. I almost took him up on it but then I realized he didn’t recognize me. I got out and told him not to try and hug me until he could get washed up and asked was there anything I could do. You should all know the answer to that question by now. The only way I know how to switch out a tire is to buy a new car. So I stood back and watched while he finished up the tire change. He was driving the what had to be the first truck Ford produced in 1974- a lovely mustard yellow number with brown racing stripes. Single cab so the passenger side was piled high with all his junk. As we went to get back in our respective vehicles he warned me not to follow too closely or I could get hit with flying rubber.

We made it CEC and he chose to park in the very first space. A handicap spot directly in front of the door. And all the windows. When I reached his truck he had me hold a camoflage cap with a couple of Altoid tins in it. I later learned the tins were full of pennies for the boys. Christmas in May! He handed me a janky, stained jewelry box and said there were presents inside for Jon and I. There was a wristwatch for me that my grandma would covet. It (luckily) didn’t fit so I gave it to Sara toot suite. There was also a brassy pocket watch with long chain for Jon. Cause you know, CSP’s a chimney sweep from the 1800s. I thanked him then stood back as he got out of the truck. Then my eyes melted out of my face as my father changed shirts in front of me, Chuck E., and the world. So much flesh! And hair!

I staggered into the restaurant and we choked down ate our lunch and watched the boys play some more. He regaled us with stories of questionable truth. Apparently he was in the Carolinas to attend his high school reunion.

Where did you graduate from again?
Well, technically…mumble mumble… cause you know I was drafted to go to Vietnam. Then I scored so high on these tests they sent me to junior college instead. You know my degree is in Conservationism, cause I always wanted to be a park ranger.
Said my father the ex car & insurance salesman.
And later-
You know your Uncle A has weeks to live. He has inoperable lung cancer.
Really? Cause just the other day we got an email from C (Uncle A’s daughter) and she said he was starting chemo.
Oh, well maybe that’s it.

And then…
How was the reunion?
Well you know how they give away prizes for different things? Guess which one I won?
I don’t know. Which?
Most changed hairstyle.
Said the man with divets on the top of his bald head from his hair plugs that didn’t take.

I snapped a couple of pictures then my dad announced he had to skeedaddle.

I got to go find me a MayPop tire.
What’s a MayPop tire?
Cause it May Pop if I try to use it. Hee hee!!

Seriously, he laughs like that. Hee hee! Mainly when my nephews are around. I think he thinks he likes it. It makes my ears bleed.

He asked us to point him in the direction of a mom and pop auto garage and I offered to lead him to one. He talked the mechanic into replacing the shredded tire on his rim with a decent used one that wasn’t quite the right size but would suffice as a spare and it only cost him $10. I waited with him as we watched the guy mount the new tire (interesting process) while they yelled small talk at each other over the shop noise. Then I directed my father back to the highway. He tossed the MayPop in the back of his truck. Kisses and hugs and he peeled out heading for Florida.

I came home and took a nap.

I took pictures. So click here. Cause I know you wanna know what crazy looks like.