this imploding heart

your daddy's alright

1: The Hillcrest Market burned down last night. The fire started around six and we could still see them up on ladders spraying water into the walls at 1am.

The crazy thing is this: at one point they were spraying so much water into the structure that a 3 foot high wall of water and candy started rushing out on to the street. There were wrapped chocolate bars and bags of potato chips floating in gutters as far as 4 blocks away.

2: Dad started his new job today. He came into town around seven last night, ("Sonie, something must be on fire down the block, there are cops and ladder trucks going crazy all over."), so he and Roxy and I sat and chatted on the couch for a while.
Every time I see my father now, he tells me something about his life that he's never told me before. When I was a kid, no mention was made of any activity that occurred in the years between his 15th and 23rd years.
Last night, a conversation about taking the greyhound bus prompted my dad to tell me about the 2 times he's ever been approached by a gay man.

A:"One time, when I was about..I dunno...19 or 20? Probably 20. I's on a greyhound to Lakeview, Oregon, back from Mel's up in Kellog. Aaaaand this guy, roundabout mid 30's or so, sits down next to me on the bus. And I don't think nothin' of it, of course. Sooo about an hour into the trip, I'd been sleeping, and I feel somethin on my leg. I kinda wake up and look down, and it's this guys newspaper. So I go back to sleep. Come a few minutes later, I feel somethin on my leg again. And THIS time, it's that guy's hand. I kinda jerked awake at that point and I think he saw I was none too pleased or comfortable. I stayed real wide awake after that, and he got off the greyhound at Ellensburg, and didn't get back on. I didn' know WHAT to think of that."

Perhaps it goes without saying, but my father comes from a time and place that existed prior to -or outside of- Womens Lib, Desegregation, and Gay Rights. For being as old and obstinate as he is, he's getting a lot better about using Asian instead of Oriental (which he trained himself to use instead of Chink or Jap, which is what his father used), and Black or African-American instead of Negro (all of which he has to be very careful about, because Nigger was thrown around loosely until he was in his thirties). He still uses Queer instead of Gay, but I think that'll be fairly easy to change once he gets a little positive exposure. Nothing opens my father's mind faster than friendship.

B: "Then...I guess I must've been round 18 because we could buy beer but not hard alcohol.* Aaand I was at the bar in Kellog with a big group of my buddies, aaand we were drunk. All of us about 18 or 19. And this guy comes in, starts buying us all beers and whiskeys, and we're all thinkin that's pretty good! You know? So we're all drinking and having a good time, and I get up to go to the bathroom, and one of the guys from the bar walks in after me and says 'Hey Son, that guy you're drinkin' with. He's Queer. He's, uh, looking for a good time with you boys.' Well, we're all drunk and me and my buddies, we decide we're gonna kick his ass. Come back to the front of the bar, and he'd already left. Turns out, he's a known pedophile around town, and he LOVES to fight. Big guy. We probably would'a got our asses whooped."

Roxy went home, and dad and I put some water and oil in the car, went to the grocer, and came back to the apartment. He was tired when he showed up, and exhausted by 9. We'd parked the car in the pay lot across the street from my building. When dad had already settled into bed, he realized that he'd left his alarm clock in the car.

"I'll go get it."

"You can't! It's dark out there!"

"Um, Dad. It's 9:30, in July, in Washington. The sun hasn't set yet, and furthermore, NOTHING IS GOING TO HAPPEN. I'm walking ACROSS THE STREET."

"Somebody's going to snatch you up!"

"Dad! How do you think I get around all the time? Nobody's snatched me up yet. I'll be fine."

Dad reluctantly agreed to let me fetch the alarm for him. I opened his toolbox full of clothes and started feeling around for the alarm clock. Church shoes, back brace, work gloves. I folded back a layer of plaid shirts to reveal his electric alarm clock, wind up alarm clock, and the butt of his pistol. I've been looking at that pistol since I was a little girl, but it still always takes me by suprise.

*sidenote: While riding in the car with my parents, My uncle's girlfriend asked me if I drank. The standard operating procedure in my family is that my parents and I do not discuss any activities I participate in that might make them uncomfortable. They don't ask, and I don't bring it up. So I replied, "Um. I don't know.", and my uncle interjected, "Shut up, Cheryl."
After this conversation, my father has elected to tell me several stories that include drinking and being drunk. It is still understood that I will not talk about being drunk, but I'm now free to express an understanding of drunken circumstances.

Posted by Sonya at July 12, 2004 09:02 AM