"Spring" Cleaning

My dad was cleaning the garage... and by cleaning the garage, I mean moving things around so that he is the only one who knows where to find anything. His organization only makes sense in his ADHD mind.

My parents are kind of hoarders. Not so much that I feel a need to take them onto TV and have an intervention. And not so much that I feel like they are living in filth. And not so much that I cannot move from one room to another... but the parents just don't like to throw anything away. The second they get rid of something they know they are going to need it... Yes... you are going to NEED that wedding veil you found and that shadow boxed creepy Japanese doll thing... Why??

When I commented about how he and the mom do not want to get rid of anything... he responded that he has thrown some stuff out recently...

"Some things I threw away because they were an indictment on my bad behavior as a youth."

The jury has reached a verdict.

Pops was on the LAPD back in the dizay. This is one reason why we were all so surprised that he was still chosen to be put on a jury. But I guess they asked him if he thought he could be impartial and he stated that he could be. He even commented about feeling sorry for the guy on trial because he looked like a deer in headlights not knowing what to expect... Post deliberation, however, I got this gem from Papa J:

"Puttin' a homeboy in jail... just like the good ol' days..."

Juror # 2

Papa J is on a jury... he is juror #2... I don't think much more needs to be said at this time...

Sound Advice from a Father

I was helping my sister with something that involved my being in full hair and make up... we are talking 2.5 hours of curling my hair and applying paint to my face so that I could be presentable in a digital, and eventual very public world... yikes... I am a little nervous... but that is not the point of this post...

Here is the interaction that took place with my father later that evening.

Me: "I'm all dressed up with no place to go."

Papa: "I've heard that some women stand on the corner... men will just pick you up.... and then they take you places.... AND they pay you... so you will have something to do and have money... you should try it."

Awesome.

Pills are good....

"I gotta find something that gives me energy. I don't know what gives me energy...except the white powdery stuff."

(For some reason that statement made me think of this)

Only kind words are spoken

Scene: Brad is upstairs in the loft. My father and I are downstairs in the family room. Both parties are yelling back and forth so that the other can hear in their current location.

Brad: Are you talking to me?

Dad: Did I say say shit head?

Brad: No

Dad: Then I am not talking to you.

Brad: You don't call me that anyway

Dad: Oh... Ok...

Nothin' but class

My father decided to take my mom out for dinner. He thought that he would class it up, and decided to wear a tie. My mom was not impressed, but I was... and this is how I got invited to the dinner plans.

It is always surprising that my mom has not yet just decided to think my dad is funny, but is still so disapproving. Maybe she feels this is her role, and she is just owning it. But some of this stuff is gold.

On the way to dinner, the madre was talking about people from church. They have immaculate homes, they have a lot of energy, they are righteous people. My father chimes in, "I can be self righteous too, if you want me to be." Cue mom reaction, "I didn't say self righteous, I just said righteous." Cue Jaime reaction, "Hahahahahaha."

While at dinner the ma was saying that she would never want someone (i.e. my brother or I ...not said but totally implied) to get married, just so they are married. The pa, under his breath, said, "Yeah....(sigh)...that's what I did."

We got in the car, and we were driving home. We were turning out of the parking lot when my father asked, "Do you want to stop somewhere, or go straight home?" My mom said that she wanted to just go straight home. He asked, "Would you like to stop at Stater Brothers?" She obviously answered that she did not. "Would you like to stop at Henry's?" No, she did not. "Would you like to stop here?" He asked as he approached a read light. "Too late." And he ran the red light. My mother immediately started talking about him getting a ticket. I immediately started laughing drowning out whatever it was she was saying.

We got home. They were walking inside the door. And my father gave one last jab. "Don't trip until after I get you insured."

Good times for Pa and I... I am not sure how the mom felt though...

42 years of bliss

My parents have been married for 42 years. That is a long time. It seems crazy that they have been married for so long... that anyone has been married for that long. I can barely find someone I want to talk to 2 days in a row, let alone live with for 42 years.

It was their anniversary the other day. I walked out to the family room, my dad was sitting on the couch. I asked, "You aren't working today?"

"No, I volunteered to take the day off." He responded.

I responded back to him, "You gonna hang out with mom?"

"Nah...she's too old.."

And for you entertainment... an awkward family photo...Well, Ash and I look good.

This just in.

Breaking News.

I just learned something about Pops that is awesome.

He puts an old, broken cell phone in his car.

Why? That was my question...

"In case someone breaks in. It gives them something to steal. And I like to imagine how disappointed they are when it doesn't work."

I can't help but wonder if his car will be broken into just because he has a cell phone out in view... but this is irrelevant as far as Papa J is concerned.

I told you it was awesome.

Call for confrontation.

I have been on a gluten free diet for awhile now (life changing for me.) At the beginning of the year, my mother decided to jump on and see if it could help her to feel better. The pops loves to cook and loves to experiment, so there have been many delicious, yet many failed GF cooking attempts.

Baking has always been my mom's thing, and is one of the reasons she didn't want to go GF. I have decided to get my booty in gear and I started eating a fairly strict diet that is high in lean proteins. And just as I begin this diet, my mom jumps on the GF baking bandwagon. She is making cookies, banana bread, and bread she claims "tastes just like homemade bread toasted."

I came home to another batch of GF cookies on the counter. I asked Pops, "Are these cookies gluten free?" He confirmed that they were. I said, "Mom is killing me with this baking right when I am changing my diet." I expected a humorous response, but not one quite like this.

His response:

"Well...get in her face!"

pause.

"Say, "Listen biotch...""

pause.

"Sometimes you gotta get hard."

Not cool Pa.

So...I am living with my parental units right now. I am not proud of it. But there it is. When I downsized from my 3 bedroom townhouse to a bedroom at my parents, I needed a place to store my stuff that I will need once I get my own place here in So Cal. I was going to get a storage unit in Utard (cheaper than California.) My father scoffed at the idea. He told me there was plenty of room in his garage for my belongings. This is the back story to the following exchange.

My older sister is clearing out her house, painting, and organizing. My dad went over to get the recliner they borrowed when the twins were born. She told Papa J that if his garage was cleared out they could rent it instead of a storage unit. They could pay around 80 bucks a month to use it. My father responded that it would be a better idea if he kicked me out. Then they could use my room for storage.

Rude.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Apparently Pops was watching People's Court, which is hilarious to me within itself. There was a case involving a patient and her dentist. The patient is saying that the dentist performed a bad root canal on her. She is suing the dentist for his alleged mistakes. My father commented to my sister regarding the case. He stated, "I'd tell her not to come back. Toooooo ugly."

As a side note, the man CANNOT separate personality from looks. If he doesn't respect someone. If he believes them to be unkind, uncaring, disrespectful...they are ugly. He lacks to ability to be objective about it. He cannot say, "If I didn't know her...I could see how one may think she is pretty." Nope. You hear things like, "She is ugly. She is a witch." It is AMAZING.

Boo and Pops Combo

The combination of my little brother and the Papa J is nothing less than amazing. I hear so many good exchanges, and I forget to make a note of them! How dare I... but here is one that took place the other day. We stopped at this weird country market thing... (no idea how to describe it.) Boo Rad was eager to get home, as he wanted some serious computer time. (Obsessed much?) Boo was trying to ask what my dad was getting without coming across as pushy.

"So...you are just picking up oranges, right dad?"
"Oranges...Babes..." the pops exits the car and walks into the creepy weird market.

Not a reaction at all from the mom or the Boo...I, on the other hand, immediately texted the other siblings. And then I felt validated in my amusement.

A teenage heartthrob?

While at a belated Christmas Party with the paternal side of my family, I was reminded of some stories about the good ol' Papa J. There were some new ones too. It would seem that my father was quite creative in the ways of wooing the women as a teenager.

This story is one that my father LOVES to tell. He is proud of the trickery that was involved. Apparently Disneyland has always been a pricey adventure. Therefore, if you took your date to Disneyland, you were considered a high roller and a good catch. The pops, on numerous occasions, but never with the same girl, pulled this fast one. He would make the date for Sunday. He and his friend would take their lovely dates to Disneyland... but alas Disneyland was CLOSED (as it was on every Sunday.) My father would act stunned and disappointed about the hours. They would then take their dates to Knott's Berry Farm (which was free.) Class act...

The next story is one that my aunt told. She said that my dad and his friend would take girls to the drive inn. They would leave the car to go get treats for everyone. When they left for the snack bar the girls thought they were alone, but my father and his friend had hid a recorder so they could listen to every word at a later time. Aunt Nancy said that after listening to the recording he said, "I didn't know girls used words like that." My dad chuckled at the story. Aunt Nancy asked, "Do you remember that?" He responded saying, "It sounds like something I would have done....and it definitely sounds like something I would have said I did..."

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."

Powder Puff Toughness

As a senior in high school I became involved in the powder puff team during homecoming week. Powder puff is a game where the girls play football and the boys do the cheering/dancing. I attended bi-weekly practices (someone had to teach me how to play football...I have since forgotten nearly all of the rules, but I am still way tough.)

**my toughness brings a tangent story to this memory. I played soccer for about 10 years while growing up. I loved soccer. I had so much fun. There was only one part of soccer that I hated. My lovely father would take me to my games. He would pull into the parking spot. Turn the key in the ignition, the car would become silent, and he would say, "Three words Jaime." I was not allowed to leave the car until I uttered the words, "Kill. Kill. Kill."**

Anyway...back to my football days. One evening I had to work right up to the time of practice. For some reason my car was out of commission and my mother picked me up from work and took me to the practice. As we drove I changed from my work clothes into my football playing clothes. I couldn't waste a minute of my practice because I knew NOTHING about the sport. I quickly got changed and ran out to the field for some hardcore extreme powder puff toughness.

After practice I had some friends meet me at my home. These were fairly new friends, boy friends. Being 17 years old, new guy friends, my dad, and one question became my most embarrassing moment (but now one of my all time favorite Papa J lines.) He asked my new friends, "All I want to know is how my daughter got so good at getting her clothes on and off in a car?" Thank you pops... -Jaime

It has begun...

It really began in 1943 when my father was born. James Ray Wilson is a unique individual unmatched by any other. People who meet him love him and are confused by him all at the same time. He is himself and he is not going to apologize for it. He is the same no matter who is around. Whether it be his children, people from church, or strangers...he is the same man (the language cleans up in some circumstances for the sake of others involved.)

As his beautiful adult children we have had numerous conversations about the stories my dad tells, the one liners he drops, the conclusions he makes, the gems he blesses us with. If one of us cannot attend a family event, the others call to enlighten the absent member with the pearls of wisdom our father has bestowed upon them.

We are all grows up now and have come to the conclusion that we need to document his insight. He has not kept a journal, so as his children, we will keep record of the most entertaining moments of our life involving our Papa J. We hope that the chronicles of Jimmy Rae will be enjoyed by our future generations.

We have chosen not to tell Papa J about the blog at this time. We want the documentation to be genuine and not for the sake of his perfomance. While these writings are mostly for our family's own enteratinment, we welcome any who happen upon us. Thank you.