Sunday, August 06, 2006
My family are awful.
No, we are. We are loud and crass and badly dressed. We eat and drink too much. Sometimes we fight each other. Occasionally we fight other people. If we were at a table in a restaurant, you might be tempted to be asked to move. The having-it-large vibe can bug some people. I blame my Mom and Dad. My Mom brought us up practically alone (she was widowed at the age of 43, had four kids under the age of 10 and one on the way) and it was a struggle. I suppose that some basic standards of behaviour can get lost in the mix. My Dad thought that the most important thing in life was to have fun, and he did, until the day he died. There was no place for misery in his life.
I suppose we are white trash. Guess what? We don't give a shit. We don't go out of our way to hurt anybody; any of us.
Anyway... (I don't quite know where that came from. Nobody has said anything to us.)
Friday night was a good night. We went to a Harvester (I know, I know, but it was my Mom's choice, and she likes the craphole), we all drank too much (except for my Niece and Nephew, of course), ate too much (even though the food was dreadful) and told family stories.
(Worth a sidebar for some stories.
My Dad once purchased a car from a guy he met in the pub, failing to notice that the car had no floor. Or brakes. It cost him a tenner. Bargain, except that my Mom refused to get into the car.
The one and only time my Dad bought my Mom flowers was when I was born. Three days after I was born. My Dad had gone on a bender with my Grandad (my Mom's Dad) and they disappeared for 3 days. Apparently at the end of it my Grandad was spied carrying my unconscious Dad on his back down Broad Street. My Grandad was a giant. Fuck knows where those genes went to. My Mom is only 4 foot 10 inches. I am a magnificent 5 foot 5 inches. I am taller than Napoleon.
My Dad once threw a TV set through a pub window. I have no information as to why. Maybe he didn't like the TV show that was being broadcast. He was arrested, but they let him go the next day. I think he knew the policeman who arrested him.
On a family holiday to one of the seaside resorts, my Dad decided to wear a sailor's cap. Somebody came up to him and asked him how long he had been in port. The only sea my Dad had ever been on was the Irish Sea, which he traversed in 1951 traveling to the UK when he was 16. For the rest of that holiday my Dad pretended to be a merchant seaman. He was very convincing, as well.
My Dad could not read or write. My Mom taught him how to write his own name. It was all he needed.
When I was very young, my Mom left my Dad for 9 months. He had decided to live in Quinton. My Mom decided that my Dad could live wherever the hell he liked, but she was staying where she was. My Mom and me moved in with my Gran. 9 months later my Dad came back. He had learnt a lesson about not fucking with the iron will of his wife.
The only Beatles song my Dad liked was "Yellow Submarine". He did not like any pop music. I once played him in the Sex Pistols "Never Mind The Bollocks" album. He was appalled and looked at me like I was a alien.
My Dad loved movies. We went to the cinema all of the time. You can blame him for the amount of words taken up on the subject of movies in this blog.
Lots more stories. Another time. End of sidebar.)
Really good night. I think that Lorraine enjoyed it as well. She thinks my family are funny. I think my family are funny.
I went to see two films this weekend - "Atomised" and "Cars" - but a writeup on those can wait until tomorrow. I promised Lorraine that I would watch something with her this evening. Spending time together and that kind of thing. Definitely not a chore.
No, we are. We are loud and crass and badly dressed. We eat and drink too much. Sometimes we fight each other. Occasionally we fight other people. If we were at a table in a restaurant, you might be tempted to be asked to move. The having-it-large vibe can bug some people. I blame my Mom and Dad. My Mom brought us up practically alone (she was widowed at the age of 43, had four kids under the age of 10 and one on the way) and it was a struggle. I suppose that some basic standards of behaviour can get lost in the mix. My Dad thought that the most important thing in life was to have fun, and he did, until the day he died. There was no place for misery in his life.
I suppose we are white trash. Guess what? We don't give a shit. We don't go out of our way to hurt anybody; any of us.
Anyway... (I don't quite know where that came from. Nobody has said anything to us.)
Friday night was a good night. We went to a Harvester (I know, I know, but it was my Mom's choice, and she likes the craphole), we all drank too much (except for my Niece and Nephew, of course), ate too much (even though the food was dreadful) and told family stories.
(Worth a sidebar for some stories.
My Dad once purchased a car from a guy he met in the pub, failing to notice that the car had no floor. Or brakes. It cost him a tenner. Bargain, except that my Mom refused to get into the car.
The one and only time my Dad bought my Mom flowers was when I was born. Three days after I was born. My Dad had gone on a bender with my Grandad (my Mom's Dad) and they disappeared for 3 days. Apparently at the end of it my Grandad was spied carrying my unconscious Dad on his back down Broad Street. My Grandad was a giant. Fuck knows where those genes went to. My Mom is only 4 foot 10 inches. I am a magnificent 5 foot 5 inches. I am taller than Napoleon.
My Dad once threw a TV set through a pub window. I have no information as to why. Maybe he didn't like the TV show that was being broadcast. He was arrested, but they let him go the next day. I think he knew the policeman who arrested him.
On a family holiday to one of the seaside resorts, my Dad decided to wear a sailor's cap. Somebody came up to him and asked him how long he had been in port. The only sea my Dad had ever been on was the Irish Sea, which he traversed in 1951 traveling to the UK when he was 16. For the rest of that holiday my Dad pretended to be a merchant seaman. He was very convincing, as well.
My Dad could not read or write. My Mom taught him how to write his own name. It was all he needed.
When I was very young, my Mom left my Dad for 9 months. He had decided to live in Quinton. My Mom decided that my Dad could live wherever the hell he liked, but she was staying where she was. My Mom and me moved in with my Gran. 9 months later my Dad came back. He had learnt a lesson about not fucking with the iron will of his wife.
The only Beatles song my Dad liked was "Yellow Submarine". He did not like any pop music. I once played him in the Sex Pistols "Never Mind The Bollocks" album. He was appalled and looked at me like I was a alien.
My Dad loved movies. We went to the cinema all of the time. You can blame him for the amount of words taken up on the subject of movies in this blog.
Lots more stories. Another time. End of sidebar.)
Really good night. I think that Lorraine enjoyed it as well. She thinks my family are funny. I think my family are funny.
I went to see two films this weekend - "Atomised" and "Cars" - but a writeup on those can wait until tomorrow. I promised Lorraine that I would watch something with her this evening. Spending time together and that kind of thing. Definitely not a chore.
# posted by Pynchon @ 7:18 pm 
Comments:
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It sounds like your dad was officially a 'character' :-)
Glad you had a good evening and that Lorraine did too.
Glad you had a good evening and that Lorraine did too.
Ah... Mark. Well that is a fair enough comment, and I'm not going to take offence. You'll have to trust me on this, but I was going to reply to stef's comment with
'character' or 'asshole'?
because he was both.
What I neglected to say is that most of the really bad behaviour stopped (except the drinking) after his children started being born and he became psychotically (sic) dedicated to them. My Mom suffered. She became a distant second in his affections. She has said many a time that she became an afterthought because his kids always came first. But she adored him.
He bestrode the house like a colussus. He was God. I don't really think we even noticed our Mom, or how strong she was, until my Dad was gone.
But I miss him. I wish he were here. He was fun and he geniuinely did not give a shit.
'character' or 'asshole'?
because he was both.
What I neglected to say is that most of the really bad behaviour stopped (except the drinking) after his children started being born and he became psychotically (sic) dedicated to them. My Mom suffered. She became a distant second in his affections. She has said many a time that she became an afterthought because his kids always came first. But she adored him.
He bestrode the house like a colussus. He was God. I don't really think we even noticed our Mom, or how strong she was, until my Dad was gone.
But I miss him. I wish he were here. He was fun and he geniuinely did not give a shit.
This is a fine-line between genius and madness and there is also a fine line between hero and asshole.
Such is life I reckon but people don't have to be one or the other, they can -and often are- be a bit of both.
Such is life I reckon but people don't have to be one or the other, they can -and often are- be a bit of both.
To me, it sounds like your family, including you and yes even your mother ... lived! Truly lived. All passion, one way or another. Never any 'neutral'.
I love it!
I love it!
My Dad did that running away on a bender thing when I was born as well. Which was fine, except my mum spent three days unconscious afterwards and only found out about it six months later...
# posted by 
: Tuesday, August 08, 2006 11:19:00 pm
: Tuesday, August 08, 2006 11:19:00 pm
I was going to say that your dad sounds both brilliant and terrible at the same time, but it looks like you got have got all of that stuff covered.
My dad's pretty square really. Godfearing. That kind of thing. I imagine he'd be appalled by the Sex Pistols too though, but I can't see him in a sailor's cap.
Glad it was a good meal.
ST
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My dad's pretty square really. Godfearing. That kind of thing. I imagine he'd be appalled by the Sex Pistols too though, but I can't see him in a sailor's cap.
Glad it was a good meal.
ST
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