My Captain Cliff
Disclaimer: I am, and will forever be, a total Daddy’s girl. I start this post with that because what I write below may come off as a mocking of my father’s parenting techniques, when in fact, I think the world of Cliff.
My dad grew up in a world a little different than the one my brothers and I were brought up in. As a result, he has a few, shall we say…traits?…that have stuck with him throughout his fifty odd years of life.
To begin, when I was younger, David, Jacob, and I were not allowed normal cereal. All we really wanted was some freakin’ fruit loops. But oh no. Dad would take those precious fruitloops and mix them with the healthy cereal. You know, the kind that no one wants, like regular cheerios or kix–without the yummy berries.
After we were stuffed with bland crap, Cliff, every Saturday morning for nearly twelve years, drove us 20 minutes to our early piano lessons in the woody mobile. The woody was an old fashioned van that replaced our first van (a prison van that Dad bought from a police station and would drive us to and from daycare in. He’s still proud today that the van, which was so old from carting so many convicts, was sold at a profit from a man who promptly destroyed it for parts). In our maroon and wood paneled van, we’d make the rounds every Saturday to pick up whoever had had birthday party’s the night before or sleepovers and wasn’t home yet. Oh no, no one was exempt from Saturday morning piano lessons. Even at 15 or 16 years of age, we were all driven to and from the lesson by Cliff, who insisted he was making us cultured. This is somewhat funny to everyone today, considering I can’t read, write, or play any music and in fact, don’t even know how to operate my own ipod.
Dad also likes to be chatty. He’s a flirt at heart, probably from his days as a footballer and total small town badass. We still have his varsity sweater, if anyone would like any proof of his prior awesomeness. As a result of his social butterfly status, Dad chats up waitresses. There’s no such thing as a quick order when he’s around. He has to ask the waiter twenty or thirty questions, including personal ones about her taste in beer or music, before our family gets so annoyed, we apologize and pretend like he is not well, you know, mentally.
In terms of shopping, Dad just doesn’t like spending money. The vans I mentioned before? The wood was around for 15 years before he made my brother drive it. And he bought it used. But Dad also recognizes that he has to have clothes. His answer? The Younkers Card.
The Younkers Card is what Dad uses for the semi-annual Younkers sale, where he can get sweaters and pants that don’t exactly fit nor are they in exactly flattering colors, but hey, they’re typically two or three dollars a piece and thirty bucks later, Dad’s set for the season. Of course, you can’t live on Younkers alone, so Dad tends to go through David and Jake’s closets looking for their outgrown clothes, which he promptly takes for himself.
Because Dad grew up in a different time, he’s mighty handy. While he did manage to practically rebuild, by himself, our first family home, today he doesn’t have as many projects. Therefore, the one’s he does have, he is very anal about. Our driveway never has more than thirty minutes worth of snow on it. And our grass? Mowed five times a week. That pristine lawn is also rigorously watched and watered all summer long.
Cliff is also way, way smarter than he gives himself credit for. When he was younger, he wanted to be a teacher and when he couldn’t find a job in Michigan, he did what all aspiring teachers do: He thought what the hell, why not law school? Right. After kicking some ass there, he got his first job at a big law firm downtown raking in a healthy salary. Of course, he was appalled he had to pay the five dollars a day to park, so he would drive to the strip mall several miles away, park his car for free, and then ride the public bus, which houses bums all winter long who need to stay warm, to the office.
Today, to keep his mind active, Dad spends hours doing Sudoku. He won’t put his iphone though, because he likes to erase by hand. It’s therapeutic, apparently. Also, Dad does not listen to the radio. Oh no, that’d be way too normal and not all embarrassing enough for him. Dad listens to books on tape. And when he runs out of books that he likes? Well, he went online and purchased some course lectures. Yes, the very same lectures that I myself hate going to all school year long and periodically fall asleep to. Dad loves ‘em. Listens to them fully and then reports back what he’s learned. How thoughtful of him, right?
Dad is a little corky, but all of those things have made him a pretty awesome Dad. And while I’m quick to complain, all of my friends adore going over to my house, just so they can see what antics he’s up to now. And I hate to admit, that now that I’m out of the house, I don’t eat the fruit loops sans the cheerios. It turns out, I actually like the cheerios by themselves. And they’re cheapter. It scares me a little when I realize that Dad’s cheapness is rubbing off on me. Just shoot me if I ever apply for a Younker’s card.