Happy father's day to dad's and to kids and even to mom's. Cherish the time you have with who you have in your life. Don't just do it on a holiday.
I haven't celebrated Father's day in four years now. I'm starting to have to actually do the math now. "What year did he die again? Did he die before or after Father's day?" It is like there is some mental block creating a temporal haze around my mind. His death is like Schrödinger's cat, simultaneously in my short term memory and fading away in long term memory. He died yesterday/he died long before I can remember.
I wonder would he be happy with me today. I haven't exactly forged the life for myself that I had hoped to do. The house inspection came back, it looks like we have to replace an electrical outlet (It needs to be GFIC) and do something about the high water pressure levels, still not exactly sure what that's going to mean or more importantly cost. We have to use licensed contractors for the work, so I can't replace the outlet myself despite knowing how to do it.
So for father's day I'll leave you with one of my father's favorite songs..
When I was young and they packed me off to school
and taught me how not to play the game,
I didn't mind if they groomed me for success,
or if they said that I was a fool.
So I left there in the morning
with their God tucked underneath my arm --
their half-assed smiles and the book of rules.
So I asked this God a question
and by way of firm reply,
He said -- I'm not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.
So to my old headmaster (and to anyone who cares):
before I'm through I'd like to say my prayers --
I don't believe you:
you had the whole damn thing all wrong --
He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.
Well you can excomunicate me on my way to Sunday school
and have all the bishops harmonize these lines --
how do you dare tell me that I'm my Father's son
when that was just an accident of Birth.
I'd rather look around me -- compose a better song
`cos that's the honest measure of my worth.
In your pomp and all your glory you're a poorer man than me,
as you lick the boots of death born out of fear.
I don't believe you:
you had the whole damn thing all wrong --
He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.
