Stories for Dad.
My earliest memory of you was back in Ottawa. I couldn’t have been more than a couple years old. You would return home from work each day in uniform, that air force blue. I remember watching you come up the sidewalk to the house, and my uncontainable joy that you were home. Other memories at that time were afternoon naps, whether it was you or mom who coached me into bed, especially when I didn’t want to go, “you need to sleep Bradley” you’d say, “you’ll feel better when you wake up.” And I did, I always did. Waking up to hot air balloons crowding a perfect blue sky on a warm summer afternoon, it almost felt like a dream. Then you would help me in the sandbox, building castles and moats. Trying your best to stop me from taste testing the sand or anything else that looked edible. My favourite memory from this era was you returning home from work on your motorcycle. You would lift me up and set me on the gas tank. I would hold onto what I could as you eased your way down the street to your storage locker where you would park it. Then we would walk home together, and see what mom had cooking for us for dinner.
The Soccer Game
I remember playing soccer as a kid, I couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6 years old. I wasn’t particularly good at it and was always put in the position of defence. I recall spending lots of time picking dandelions or getting kicked in the stomach with the ball and having the wind violently knocked out of me. What a fun game. Most of my games must have been on a Friday evening because I distinctly remember seeing my dad there. He might not have been there for the coin toss but once the game began I would spot him in the crowd. Unmistakable from anyone else he was there straight from work in full airforce dress. As far as I knew, or thought anyone else knew for that matter, he was a war hero. Saving the lives of innocent people, killing bad guys and flying away in the nick of time was just part of his day job. I didn’t always get to spend the whole week with him so when he showed up at my soccer game I dropped whatever it was I was doing, or supposed to be doing, and ran straight for him. He was my hero and I was happy to have him home for the weekend. I remember some of the parents laughing, and some of the other kids calling me a daddy’s boy for doing that. But I didn’t care, they didn’t know what a hero my dad really was.
Fight Club
I don’t believe my dad has been in too many fights in his life. I figure he, much like I, possess the ability to talk my way out of those types of situations. But just in case it’s always best to be prepared. I remember being bullied in school in my preteen years. I wasn’t particularly worried but it was an annoying part of growing up. At times I had guys try and get me to throw a punch, but I never really needed to. When confiding in my dad about the rising situations at school I could tell he was concerned for me. He said if it ever came to it that I should take the hardest part of my hand and jam it in their nose a couple times. He said it was going to hurt my hand, but it would hurt their nose a million times more. Luckily I never had to take his advice or throw any punches, yet. But I’m keeping that one in my back pocket just in case.
The Talk
There comes a time in every young man’s life when inevitably their parents are going to try and talk to them about sex. Not a very comfortable conversation to have but there are certain things that just need to be said. I remember this conversation with my dad extremely well. We were in his red Mazda truck on the way to school or something, maybe it was after school, or before or after some sort of extracurricular activity. Probably not soccer. I remember being younger than what I expected to be when he brought it up. I’m sure i was around 11 or 12 years old which doesn’t seem that unreasonable now thinking back on it, because I’ve met some cool fuckin dudes who probably lost their virginity around that age, or at least lied about it. But at the time I was not one of these cool dudes, nor did I know any. I may have sort of had a “girlfriend” but that was just something kids did and said at school. I would barely talk to her and was terrified of trying to kiss her or hold her hand. Once my friends and I found an empty box of condoms in some backcountry fort and took off screaming and running away. I don’t remember why and I had to ask someone what they were even for. Anyways I guess my dad didn’t know this about me and probably thought I was turning down sexual advancements made by my smokin hot grade 6 teacher Miss Coveyduct as I was, and still am, somewhat of a stud. Nevertheless I tried dodging the conversation by reassuring him that they talk to us and teach us this sort of thing in school so he didn’t have to. They haddn’t yet but I was certain they probably would soon. (It wouldn’t be for another 2-3 years and I was still a year beyond that before my first kiss). I could tell the conversation wasn’t going the way he had intended when he said, “I just don’t want you to end up ruining your life with something as silly as 5 minutes in the sack.” Or something to that effect, to which I replied humorously, “Well I don’t know about you Dad but hopefully it takes me longer than 5 minutes”. Despite always being quite proud of that joke, especially with the limited knowledge on the subject, I didn’t seem to share in the humour with my dad, who honestly looked more shocked than anything. I quickly lost my desire to crack up laughing because I thought I had said something to upset him, when really I’m sure he was doing his best not to give in and laugh it off with me. Years later my brother would ask me about it and confirmed that he did to find it funny.