Remember when?
Remember being 18? or maybe for you it was 16, or 22. That summer you decided you had your hand around the hairy scrote of life itself, and you were going to twist until you got what you want. That summer you knew everything, that summer you decided the old man was the dumbest bastard you knew, because he lived his life just going about his business, and you needed to rip the tits off the world and squeeze out the milk of happines, break the bones and suck out the marrow. That summer you knew and did everything. The summer all those years ago.
Remember when you realized that sometimes a long, slow night of great sex was better than a quick fuck in the back of a pickup? When you realized that good booze should be savored and not slammed? remember when you realized how much more of life you could enjoy if you did so slowly and with deliberation? Remember when Dad got smart again?
Thanks,. Dad.
I remember well, I just won’t answer ’cause I don’t want to remind my Dad – and something tells me he might secretly read my stuff. Autumn truly is the nostalga season.
Sigh. I remember well. Nice post, Og.
swmbo
Yeah. I remember well wondering how my Dad got so smart in just 3 short years.
Thanks Dad and R.I.P.
Yep, just like it was yesterday. On both counts.
Dad’s birthday today?
Nope. Just thinking.
Yea, I was 18 right out of High School and pretty much knew everything was going to be great from then on.
I love it when I’m right.
I thought only Clinton was bonehead enough to think that the best place to fuck in a pickup was the bed (carpeted, as he had his).
In my hammer-in-the-car days, a pickup had a looooooong bench seat suitable for a skinny guy and gal to get it on without becoming pretzels, but I preferred my gal who brought her own Chevvy wagon, the kind that you could put a full sheet of plywood in with the tailgate and transom closed.
As steamy as it got in the fall in Central Missouri inside that ’59 wagon, it was far superior to an outdoor roll in the hay with the attendant mosquito and fly bites.
I’ve lurked but never commented.
That rings true.
I left home at 17.
I loved my family but I had to go.
Became best friend with my dad. He never held
anything back. If I was doing something stupid
I would hear how and why. I thank him for that. I told him how much I owed him before
he passed in 81. I miss him still. That never
goes away. If yours is still here, well take
care of them while theres time.
He’s still watchin, I know