The stories will be copious

There are still so many past stories that need to be shared. It almost seems like the man doesn't have social skills to the point of having amazing social skills. Soon I will be moving back in with my parents (every 29 year old's dream, right?) The older my father gets the less censored he is. (I am not sure if its the older he gets, or the older I get...but either way it is awesome.) This means that I will be getting more frequent quotes and stories from Papa J... get excited...

Don Juan

My father... he is a regular womanizer... just ask him!

The family took a skiing trip to Mammoth. I was 11 years old (which would make my dad close to the age of 50) and it was good times. My older siblings came and they skied with one another. My mom and younger brother kicked it at the condo. My dad skied with me. On our last run of the day he ate it pretty bad. A woman who seemed to be about 30 years old stopped to see if he was OK and helped him up. That is literally all that happened. No other words exchanged. No stolen glances. Let me tell you what the rest of my trip sounded like, "That lady wanted me so bad...it was embarrassing how she was throwing herself at me...I am a happily married man it is so difficult with woman fawning all over me all the time...that must have been hard for you to see... etc etc etc."

Another example takes place at my grandmother's 90th birthday party. I did not get to experience this one first hand. My brother-in-law is super entertained by my father. What he chose to do at the birthday party is follow my dad around to witness his activities. Gary would then find us and report the good one-liners we were missing. Gary ran to us, barely able to speak because he was laughing at what he had beheld. My dad, as always, was helping with the party. Making sure the food was stocked, seeing if everything was clean. While standing at the buffet, my aunt's friend came down the line filling her plate. My father quickly grabbed a banana and put it in his front shirt pocket. He then leaned in and said to her, "Is that a banana in my pocket, or am I just happy to see you?" (My mother's response to this was a beautifully timed sigh and simultaneous eye roll. Amazing.)

I know that each of my siblings has experienced our father's "Don Juan Attempts." We all find them super entertaining while my mom finds them annoying (which, lets be honest, only makes them MORE entertaining!)

Punishment Matches the Crime

My father, in all of his fatherly-ness, asked (well....told) me to clean the family room. I was promised that once I cleaned the room, I had permission to go to a friend's home. YES! Only minutes from playing with friends...I needed to get on this cleaning thing, and I needed to finish stat. Playing is of the utmost importance to a 10 year old (or in my case now, a 28 year old.) Countdown to being with friends and all that was in my way was a few items to pick up, vacuum, and I am outta there! I straighted the room, I put my things away, I shoved the toys in the closet, and I asked my dad to inspect. He stepped back and looked at the room, as he always did. (I was just happy there was not a "white glove" test.)

"You think this room is clean?" He asked, accusingly.

"Yes Pops."

"Really? What about that?" He pointed out some clutter. Some items a sibling had pulled out and so I had decided they should put it away.

I responded with confidence"That's not mine, so I didn't pick it up. I only picked up my mess."

"Oh....all right." My father said these 3 words in such a way that I was filled with regret before I could realize what, exactly, I should be feeling regret for. His tone sent a shiver down my spine that settled as panic in my stomach. He nonchalantly gave me permission to go play. I was reluctant to leave, feeling there was some sort of a trick....but this is PLAYING we are talking about...so I took off to my friend's house.

My friends and I were discussing our options. Should we swim? Should we ride bikes? Maybe we should play a rousing round of "Restaurant"? I had been gone for about 30 minutes when the telephone rang...it was my father. He requested that I come home immediately. I rode my bike home to see what was going on, I was a bit confused because he had just allowed me to go play.

I arrived home. My father began speaking to me sympathetically, "I am SO sorry that I had to call you and take you away from your playing." The sarcasm was strong and clear as he led me to the living room where I had left my sweatshirt. "You left your sweatshirt here on the couch. I mean, I would have picked it up and put it in your room...but it isn't mine. Being as its your sweatshirt I needed you to come home and put it away...sorry about keeping you from your friends." I acknowledged that I understood what was going on. I rolled my eyes as I put the sweatshirt away and was allowed to go back to be with my friends.

I was back to the daunting task of deciding what to play with my friends. We decided on climbing neighbor's tree while they were at work. Another 45 minutes or so passed when it was called out that I was needed at home. I rode my bike home, knowing I was in for a treat.

My father, again in that sarcastically sympathetic tone, "I am so sorry to have to call you home again. Come here." I follow him to the kitchen where he proceeds to tell me that I need to clean my dish. "I would clean it....but as we have already covered, its not mine. I am so sorry if you are being inconvenienced."

"I get it!" I said to him trying to be mad, but I did think it was kind of funny.

While I can only think of 3 specific incidences of being summoned home, in my memory he did this for days, possibly weeks...but in reality I am sure he did not. The man had a job and didn't have time to just sit there all day and conjure up reasons to have me come home from my friend's house. (Although, I wouldn't necessarily put it passed him...)

Rapid Fire

It may sound like he's joking, but he's not....

"I can't even stand to turn left any more, I think I'm just doing all rights from now on."

"That really craps my butt!"

"So NOBODY did it? Well I guess it must have been the shit fairy."

"No Bev, he's absolutely right, it is pronounced "Pakifik" (pacific)"

"Its almost like he was gay, he was so nice!"

"You are going to grow up to be a RAGING Liberal, aren't you?"

"You should check that out on youtube. I don't know if it will still be there or not. Its been like a week and a half."

"I had a fight with the devil...and I sent him straight back to hell."

A taste of the Sopranos

My sister is trying to help our father as he has finally decided to enter the era of the worldwide web. The other day she text me that she was reminding him about online scammers who claim to be legit businesses, like paypal or banks. They send you emails asking you to update your information. Papa J's response to this friendly reminder:

"If I was one of those big wigs, I would hunt them down and kill them .... If I were a big shot I'd be nice and generous and everything, but I'd have a goon squad ....I would kill 'em and right before I did it I would tell 'em why I'm doin' it. Or I'd break their legs and tell 'em to go tell their friends. Ya know, maybe I wouldn't kill them because that's against my religion, but there's nothing in my religion that says I can't break some knee caps ...!"

Intruders Beware...?

It begins in a Southern Californian home. My mother was setting out to the garage to do the laundry (that is where "laundry rooms" were manufactured in most of the homes in the old neighborhood.) Upon her arrival to the washer and dryer, she saw a man helping himself to some of the family's belongings. She went just inside the house to the kitchen where my father was and told him, briefly, what she saw. My dad ran out into the garage, the man ran away when he saw Papa J coming at him. (I would also run if I saw my Papa J coming towards me at such a velocity, and no doubt, with a crazed look in his eye.) This intruder was no match for my father who caught up to him quickly. Pops proceeded to push the man to the ground. Standing above him, pointing in the man's face, my father yelled. (My dad can yell. Nothing on this planet can shake me the way my father's yell did.) He yelled at this man, "IF YOU WANT CLOTHES...YOU COME TO THE DOOR AND YOU ASK FOR THEM!" Papa J gave this man some clothing and a jacket. He sent him on his way.

When I asked Pa about the situation, he told me that once he had him on the ground he could see exactly what items this man had chosen to take from our garage. The man was obviously in need and was stealing out of necessity, not because of criminal mindedness. I asked my dad if he was surprised that the man didn't ever come back and actually come to the door and ask for clothing. Papa J just laughed...reflecting...and said, "No."