Category: Dad Stories

I Never

I never as a kid…wore my pajamas to school, have a class for just puzzles, taken out of school for In-N-Out hamburgers w/mates, have Subway subs with my teacher at lunch time, have Santa as a super-close friend of the family, walked in a parade with my school, have a DJ play tunes during my lunch hour…had my dad record all his observations for me to read and roll my eyes at years later.

Play and Deliver

There I found myself early in the am pacing up and down the court. 
Cheering, teaching and encouraging. I was giving the young men playing baskethoops my best strategies and they sometimes strained to understand them and/or enact them. Little by little though and I followed up with excitement when they did well. I told them to hustle, to play with heart, to push on, to play smart. I wanted them to know that you got to have guts to play the game. You have to have

Building a Memory

My wife and son left the table. 
They went to tend to our new baby-chicks and left my youngest and I sitting behind. My littlest-tyke always eats slowly and I was in no rush to get up from the still steaming cup of Tanzanian coffee before me and her company. I watched her picking at her hash browns. Picking up bits of potato and gleefully popping them into her mouth. In the background Marley

Sharp Dressed Man

My mom bought in bulk. Bulk bananas, bulk loaves of bread, bulk frijoles, bulk clothes…etc. Thanks to this I started college with a crisp set of white Hanes t-shirts and about four well creased pairs of tan Dickies and two Levi’s jeans. 
With rare exceptions these wears were in my weekly rotation and I got no complaints. That is until the year I met a girl with an eye for patterns and thought it wise to introduce colour I to my life. In a few months

Pulling Rank

Pulling rank isn’t something we like to do here at Casa Torres. 
All members of the clan (including dogs) are encouraged utilize the home’s amenities at their leisure or need. 
With that said, there are regular times in the morning when dad has been up a while, he’s been walking about doing morning chores, he’s had second cup coffee and may find himself in need to use the privy. 
At those times, that parent reserves the right to commandeer the bathroom over the objection of a yawning and lumbering 6th Grader.

On the Day After

While at the kitchen table working on her division homework my youngest paid no mind to the television broadcast on. TV is usually not on during this time at home but I figured that it was old news and she usually tunes them out. Her eye caught the loud and shocking explosion and I noticed that she put her pencil down for a moment and was transfixed on the screen. Then she snapped hear head my way and asked if what she was watching was real and if it was happening “right now.” Her brother, who had been emptying the dishwasher, quickly blurted out to her that what I was watching was 9/11 and not to worry. I paused the re-broadcast and rallied them by my side to talk for a few minutes about that day and what life was like after. When the discussion was done they went about their afternoon and I was proud that I’d assuaged fears. 
Later in the eve after a round of riotous tickling had stopped and they were settling into bed, my youngest still breathing heavy, asked me if I was sure mom’s flight back home later in the week would be okay. Before I could answer my son blurted to her to not worry because “mommy always comes back safe.” I nodded to her in agreement, kissed them good-night and flicked off their lights. 
I then stood outside their bedroom in the darkness…speechless.

At Drop Off

“Got it” his yelp trailed off as the passenger side door closed shut behind him. I sat there a moment watching him walk away and thinking that my own father would not have let me get away with that flip of a good-bye. 
My parents were different though and each morning at drop off or each night at bedtime we had to tell our parents we loved them whether we felt like it or not. I recall countless times when I kissed my dad on the forehead before going to bed while seething inside about his latest trespass I had perceived. I recoiled when my mother demanded that I give her a good-bye hug the morning after she had told me she wasn’t going to pay for brand name sneakers. I didn’t care for those moments. Now here I was, limp in my seat questioning whether I should demand the “I love you too” I feel I have earned. The light honk behind snapped me out my pity party and I drove away from the Middle School. 
A cup of freshly brewed coffee waited for me at home…it would certainly perk my spirits.