Things my #father taught me – whether I liked it or not.

Things my father taught me:

1. “Don’t ever ask for me to co-sign anything, ever. If you need a co-signer, you can’t afford it. I love you, but you’re on your own, Roz.” – How to be a responsible adult and never go broke (and it’s not for lack of trying, let me tell you).

2. “Your family is blood. One day your brother is all you’ll have of us. You and Paul would be wise to remember that.” Aside from my husband and kids, my father taught me that, despite the differences I might have with my brother, he is still my brother. Family is everything, unless they’re crazy. Then you’re absolved. ;)

3. “Never be in a position where you can’t take care of yourself.Never rely on anyone, but yourself. You’re all you have sometimes and that better damn well be enough.” As a woman, never to rely on a man to ‘take care of me’. I’m not helpless…dad wouldn’t let me be.

4. “Where did you learn that f9cking language? In the f*cking street?!” Dad also taught me the value of a trick question. Seriously, he asked me that as a kid. Paul and I were like, ‘wait…this is a trick.’

5. “It’s called probabilities and statistics, Roz. It’s important.” Actually, it’s called poker, but who was I to question?

6. “Roz you opened your mouth and got yourself into this trouble. I love you, but you fix your own shit.” Yeah, middle school was interesting. He seriously left me to my own devices, good or bad, as a kid. Opened my mouth and got into a fight that I pretty much started, and he supported me all the way up to telling me he wasn’t going to do anything about it. First and last time I started anything with my mouth. However, he also said…

7. “Don’t ever start a fight, Roz. But you sure as shit better finish it.” Ahhh, 80s violence and retribution. Now they talk stuff out. Pfft. ;)

8. “Don’t forget to call your mother, otherwise she gives me shit all day.”

He taught me to conversationally curse, love my brother unconditionally, take nothing for granted, be a woman and support myself, and to not yell at the kids because it’s mean. Obviously he forgot our childhood, but Dad was a man’s man and a good father, despite being crazily type A and a workaholic who had a heart attack while in the Navy and didn’t even know it.

It is because of him that my brother and I are the responsible adults we are, mom – the nurturing parents we try to emulate. I could not have asked for a better childhood.

Thanks, dad. I love ya.



Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published.