A story about your Dad’s life..

[80CX100]

     Thanks to everyone for sharing such heartfelt words, good or bad, as long as it's real, it works for me. 

     My Dad grew up dirt poor as a church mouse, in the backwoods of Nova Scotia,as he often said with such large families and small houses, they'd have to start fighting to get someone to leave so there'd be room for living.

     If you were lucky, poaching deer or snaring rabbits was the only time meat ever got served on the table, spending money came from cutting pulp wood by hand, and any luxuries were bought by those good at trapping mink or fox.

     He was a great woodsman, when he cut a felling notch it rivalled the skilled clean cut of any brain surgeon, but sometimes his over confidence got the better of him. I remember he once cut a felling notch on a bad leaning tree close to my camp and as it leaned the wrong way towards the camp I had to stop him and get the argo and winch to pull it back, I will always regret telling him that no matter how good his felling notches were, mother nature and gravity reign supreme and always wins.

     He was as tough as the hubs of hell; I was around 30 yrs old, he was at least mid/late 50's and I took him on deep wilderness deer hunt, we hiked all our gear in on our backs up a steep mountain ridge outside Algonquin park, with 2 ft of fresh snow and a freak early snow storm that never stopped the whole week. The deer were yarding up all around us everywhere you looked, but it was extremely wet going in the bush, long cold wet days. I had all sorts of fancy good hiking gear, wool etc, he had on flimsy cotton socks, plain rubber boots, but he never complained. I watched in horror one night as he had his cold feet so far into the camp fire, that the new rubber boots I had given him the year before melted in the fire, he didn't even notice.

     One afternoon in the hunt, I heard him fire off a shot and ran over the ridge to him, asked him, if he got his deer, "no I missed it" I then asked him how big the antlers were, "she didn't have any antlers, it was a doe" I said "Dad you don't have a doe tag that's illegal". "well that's just ridiculous, who ever heard of such foolish nonsense like that"

     My Dad was an Industrial Arts Teacher, worked and paid his way through Bradley university in Peoria Illinois,U.S. skilled and qualified in 11? different trades, he believed that if it was worth doing, it was worth doing right, he walked the walk, he could fix anything.

     The memory that will always stay with me; I was about 10, and with a bunch of friends hanging out in our clubhouse in small town Quebec, we had scraped some money together and bought a few cigarettes and beers. Us older older boys stayed at the clubhouse and some of the younger kids went back to get our bicycles where we'd left them at their house. Poor Jerry Williams returned with my pride and joy, Raleigh 100 fastback chopper, now a twisted tangled mess, I didn't do any damage but I did do a lot of yelling and dancing on him. I later found out that his mother had backed out over my bike in her driveway. I still owe him an apology, god rest his soul rip.

     It took a few days for my Dad to get working on my bike, but with only a couple of pieces of wood, hammers, pry and crow bars, he had the frame, forks, fender&seat stays all straightened out looking brand new again; Amazing  One of his favorite expressions was,"with a long enough lever, you can move the world" and he did     

     Everything in life for a reason, but I do have a few regrets, I had met my wife when I was only 15, at the time I thought I was blessed with perfection, it was 38 yrs before I pulled my head out of my ass and learned what a Jezebel spirit is, and what they can do to your world and family, but by then my Dad was long dead and gone, regrets I have a few

     I'd give anything to be able to sit down and have a heart to heart with him just one more time, blessed with the knowledge and wisdom I possess now.

     

[Guzzistajohn]

My Dad was a hard working US postal service worker most of my childhood and a Deacon in the Baptist church that later became a Baptist Preacher.

He was always there and made sure Mom was working at home and taking care of me and my 5 siblings.

We knew he was in the Army in WWII because of the medals he kept stashed in a drawer including a Purple Heart and an old uniform that hung in a closet in the garage, but it was never discussed and we didn't ask.

After he passed in 1983, we started digging into his past a little and with a little help from Mom, we found out he was in an outfit called the First Special Service Force AKA "The Devil's Brigade"

Knowing this never quite "hit home" until I was invited by former Speaker of the House John Boehner to the US Capital to attend a ceremony presenting the FSSF with a congressional medal. One on the speakers referred to the Force as "trained commandos" and "elite fighting force" it was hard to imagine, my old man, a mild mannered mailman turned preacher a trained commando. It's a good thing he loved me, he probably could have killed me.

Quite a contrast from Dan's dad to mine. (Sorry Danny) My old man was trained to kill and never laid a hand on me, He could lay a guilt trip on me so bad, I'd rather have an ass kickin'

Here's his picture in Tunisia, Just before going to Italy to fight.

[Huzo]

Jeeez, there’s a couple of good ones.
A Purple Heart...!
I don’t know what you have to do to get one of those, but it has to be darn special.

[normzone]

I’ve type out a response twice but could not bring myself to hit the send button. However after reading a couple other post from the less fortunate guys here, I’ll share a limited portion of my story.
My earthly father was a heartless cruel man who used his children as farm hands.

[Ncdan], my dad had a similar tale to tell, his dad would get drunk and beat him for entertainment. He was the son of an Arkansas sharecropper, had to pick cotton for pennies to help feed the family, and all his childhood tales reference hunger. At 17 after a particularly bad beating he left home and stayed with a family a couple of farms over, who signed his papers to join the military.

The Army recruiter tested him and told him he was "too smart to join the Army, they would make him a tank driver or something". The recruiter took him across the street to the Air Force Recruiter and said "You owe me one". I suspect that balance went the other way.

When we misbehaved, my mom would say "Don't make your father spank you, it makes him feel bad".

[SIR REAL ED]

Nothing much ever went wrong on the Yammie S.R.E.
The Kawasaki 500 triple two stroke, was a different matter though. Even in print it sounds and looks dangerous.

What is a Yammie S.R.E.?  Never heard that designation.

[SIR REAL ED]

No damper, thanks for the story.  It is like having a beer with a brother.  My niece never knew her grandfather as the man who was our father, and we are all glad about that.  Too late for his sons, but at least the next generation did not experience him in the same way. 

Much the same here.  As kids we were expected to operate a Ford 9N tractor even though we did not weigh enough to push down the clutch.  We all remember standing on the clutch and pulling up on the steering wheel with all our strength in order to get the clutch to disengage.

When he passed, no tears were shed.  Going home for the burial (no service for that bastard!), even though I was in my 50's, it was a great relief knowing I would never see him again.  Several of the people who knew him longer than I was alive said to me "Sorry to hear about your father.  He was the meanest bastard I have ever met.  It is a wonder you kids turned out as well as you did."

Even in his 50's my brother's employees said you could see every muscle in my brother's body tighten up whenever my brother saw Dad's truck coming down the road.

But hey, being exposed to a great example of how not to live your life is excellent motivation to seek out better examples.

Bill was a weldor who was about 30 years older than my dad.  Dad always looked up to him as a father figure, and Bill loved to rattle Dad's cage.  In her 80's Bill's wife Helen had to get a leg amputated.  After she was sent home, my older brother, Dad, and I went down to build a wheelchair ramp for their front door.

I was inside helping Bill and Helen with something.  Dad & Jim were outside discussing ramp construction.  My brother was 16 and fresh off a summer of roughing houses for a living.  Dad had other ideas.  The conversation got progressively louder, only to end with G*d D**n it!!!  Who the f**k is in charge around here?  STFU and do what I f**kin tell you to do!"

Dad comes in the house and says "That G*d D**n F**king kid is so G*d d**n so F**king hard headed, you can't tell him a G*d D**n f**king thing!"  With less that half a second delay, Helen looks up from her wheelchair and sweetly, yet matter of factly says 'Some people would say he's a lot like his father!"

I saw my dad clinch his fist, slowly force his grimace into a smile, turn away and walk out the door.  Bill, Helen, and I shared a long and hearty laugh.    

[SIR REAL ED]

This post is to celebrate the good and the escape from the bad...but not forget it.
No one can call himself a mate if he only wants to hear the good shit.. The hotter the fire in which you’re forged, the better the temper is on the steel and you have exposed yourself enough for us to know you have strong self belief.
It’s a damn sight better to apply yourself to one in need, than spread your efforts over a multitude.
Don’t you bloody well dare pull your post and we can see you’ve edited it at least once already.
You deserve the same level of compassion as you give and as such you can and should, feel free to share your inner thoughts as you desire.
I would sooner hear from a bloke who has overcome adversity, than one who has never tasted it....

Yes!  "The iron ore thinks itself senselessly tortured in the furnace.  The tempered blade of fine steel looks back and knows better!"

Lack of adversity does explain lack of compassion in some people.

[Ncdan]

My Dad was a hard working US postal service worker most of my childhood and a Deacon in the Baptist church that later became a Baptist Preacher.

He was always there and made sure Mom was working at home and taking care of me and my 5 siblings.

We knew he was in the Army in WWII because of the medals he kept stashed in a drawer including a Purple Heart and an old uniform that hung in a closet in the garage, but it was never discussed and we didn't ask.

After he passed in 1983, we started digging into his past a little and with a little help from Mom, we found out he was in an outfit called the First Special Service Force AKA "The Devil's Brigade"

Knowing this never quite "hit home" until I was invited by former Speaker of the House John Boehner to the US Capital to attend a ceremony presenting the FSSF with a congressional medal. One on the speakers referred to the Force as "trained commandos" and "elite fighting force" it was hard to imagine, my old man, a mild mannered mailman turned preacher a trained commando. It's a good thing he loved me, he probably could have killed me.

Quite a contrast from Dan's dad to mine. (Sorry Danny) My old man was trained to kill and never laid a hand on me, He could lay a guilt trip on me so bad, I'd rather have an ass kickin'

Here's his picture in Tunisia, Just before going to Italy to fight.

What an honor John to have that hero for a Dad! I would have loved to have known him. The unit he was in was famous and known around the world as you already know.
When you and Kev come to the river this summer we can sit on the porch and while we are watching the river flow by I want you to tell me all about him👍

[Guzzistajohn]

What an honor John to have that hero for a Dad! I would have loved to have known him. The unit he was in was famous and known around the world as you already know.
When you and Kev come to the river this summer we can sit on the porch and while we are watching the river flow by I want you to tell me all about him👍

I'll do the best I can Danny, unfortunately he passed away when I was 20 years old and not old enough to appreciate the man he really was. To me he was the man who made me go to church 3X a week and listened to every whining church member's personal problems no matter what, all the time. We were the first ones at the church, and the last ones to leave.  I thought it was tough being a PK before I learned to count my blessings. 

[Huzo]

What is a Yammie S.R.E.?  Never heard that designation.

Yammie = Yamaha
S.R.E. = Sir Real Ed

[SIR REAL ED]

Yammie = Yamaha
S.R.E. = Sir Real Ed

thanks.  Sometimes I struggle with the English language.

Worst bike I ever had was a 1972? Kawasaki 250 Green Streak.

Seized a lot.  Dumb kid me at the time didn't realize the local shop was boring it without chamfering the ports.

[Huzo]

thanks.  Sometimes I struggle with the English language.

Ahhh...English, shminglish....
You don’t need it, you’re American. Anyway, you seem to get your point across ok when you need to..

[cliffrod]

Man, Lots of familiar territory in there. Ive been up & down about posting as well. 

My father didn't flog me physically, but there wasn't much quarter.  One day my father in law finally witnessed what would happen.  After Dad left, my father in law said, "I owe you an apology.  I always thought you were lying about the things you say he does to you.  He really does it."    I just kept trying, even moved back here next door to them.  Little did I know that his dying wasn't the end.  It was just the beginning of the next round-

Dad was an unintentional participant in the VA's "See you in 2 wks" program back in 2012.  After those 2 wks took 3 months, the cancer was well positioned to win. Almost a year later in Oct 2013 after extensive chemo, surgery, tube feeding, O2, etc, I bathed, shaved and cut his hair while waiting for the TB test results so I could take him to hospice the following day. On a quick run to town, I got a call from home- "your father says he's ready to die.  He just wants to lay down on the floor so he can die."  There's no way I could pick him up alone, so I rushed home to put him in bed.  I did and he was dead in about 20 min.  I called the 911 paramedics, got him pronounced dead and helped carry him out & into the ambulance to go to the mortuary for cremation.   The next day at the mortuary, they wheeled him out of the cooler- stone cold and gray- so Ma and we could see him one last time.

In Dec, I'm at the credit union working on the estate with & for my mother.  The manager looking at paperwork says "that's good- at least the home equity loan he had was paid off a few days ago..."  I said "No, there wasn't any home equity loan.  he paid off the mortgage about 3 yrs ago."  She replied, "no this is the separate home equity loan that he took out after the mortgage was paid.  he paid it off last week.  It was an in-person counter transaction."  I told her he had been dead for almost two months. She assured me it was him.  They knew it was him because he had been making regular in-person (significant) withdrawals once a week for nearly two years while making regular payments on the home equity loan.  Things got even more awkward when I explained he had essentially been a homebound invalid, incapable of walking unassisted or driving,  for nearly a year before being cremated two months ago....

That was only the first chapter of things to come.  Lessons learned include what kind of father NOT to be for my daughter.   Sometimes the positive only exists in the negative. 

It is very nice to read about other people's good experiences as son & father, even if they are somewhat abstract to me.   Thank you for posting them.

[Huzo]

I’ve altered the title..

[Kiwi_Roy]

My Dad was born in 1898, when the first world war broke out he enlisted but his Mother spoke to the army and they kicked him out as under age.
When he was 17 he was working clearing land in a farming community when a guy attacked him while he slept burying an axe in his head, much to everyone’s surprise he recovered from that although he suffered from the effects later in life as a result.
He married early but his young wife died from some cause that's probably routine to fix these days, he never spoke about her but always had a picture of her in his shed where my Mum wouldn't see it.
He married my Mum about 1936 I think.
He signed up for WWII as a sapper and shipped off to Fiji where they built the airport before ending up in Egypt chased around by Rommel before they turned things around at El Alamein.
Dad was always a Harley man so he took it upon himself to liberate a Harley from the South African Army that was camped nearby, a favorite photo is of him sitting on this bike.

After Egypt the NZ Army ended up in Italy, I know they were around Monty Casino but he never talked about the war although he did tell us about delivering Bailey bridges under fire, I think this was probably part of the Italian campaign.
He was a great Dad to us 6 kids.

[Huzo]

Jeez Roy.
He was a pretty gnarly looking guy..

[Kiwi_Roy]

Jeez Roy.
He was a pretty gnarly looking guy..

Haha, years in the desert will do that to you, he was actually quite handsome, he's not in this picture of his 3 Bros

[Ncdan]

Haha, years in the desert will do that to you, he was actually quite handsome, he's not in this picture of his 3 Bros

That’s really cool Roy! Thanks for posting the pictures also, I really love the old suicide shift HD bikes!

[Huzo]

Authority, it’s very plastic in it’s consistency.
I went for a ride with Christopher yesterday, him on his Sport 1200 and me on my Norge. The mandatory roll on from 80 to flat out was had and I was surprised to find my Norge has another gear in the ‘box that I was unaware of....Reverse.
Rolling on hard from 80, the Sport instantly jumped away to an ever expanding lead which ended in me seeing 190 and a diminishing vision of a Moto Guzzi.
Later would reveal 210 on the Sport and increasing authoritatively, but that was never going to be in doubt.
But here’s the thing..
It’s funny how you can sense the authority you have over a Son in some respects, yet you know he could dismiss you and enforce his will at any point but chooses not to. Somewhat like leading a large horse around with a piece of light cord, he could break it but chooses to follow your gentle insistence.
Yesterday I reached a point in a 4 way conversation including Christopher where I said...(light heartedly)
“He’ll go where I say...”
“Will I..?”
Was the quick response.
We both knew how my words were framed, but I thought about the rock of Gibraltar that I would encounter if I chose to try to act as an emotional bully.
As soon as the other two guys looked away, he smiled in a familiar way and gave a wink of voluntary “submission”.
He is more like my Dad than I am, I see a lot of similarities in them and so did my late Mother.
Christopher once said..(expletives deleted for general consumption..).
“You know what shits me about you when we argue about bloody bikes..?”
“No mate, what...?”
“I can’t win because you’re always ******* right”.
“We’ll mate, this time you just were..”
Things are starting to remind me of 50 years ago.

[krglorioso]

In 1953, when I was 16, I bought a 1944 Excelsior paratroop scooter with the ever-popular Villiers "Junior Deluxe" 98cc 2-stroke engine. It cost $50 of money I had saved from odd jobs. These scooters were folding bikes and were used in WWII by British paratroops who rode from the landing zone to the designated target and then purposely were damaged to be unridable by the Germans.  It was very tiny, slow and innocuous.  It was my pride and joy. 

When one of my mother's friends came by our home (Sullivan County, NY) she said, "Ralph has a motorcycle" and my mother replied, "It's a stage he's going through". 

In about 10 days, the '04 Breva 750 I bought from John Hemenway in Wisconsin will be delivered by U-Ship to my garage.  It will be my 87th bike in 84 years.

Long stage, mother.

Ralph

[SIR REAL ED]

Excellent thread.  Thanks for sharing.  Always warms my heart to see parents and children (especially when the children are grown) enjoying each other's company.  Almost as good is reading the stories of the same.

[Huzo]

Man, Lots of familiar territory in there. Ive been up & down about posting as well. 

My father didn't flog me physically, but there wasn't much quarter.  One day my father in law finally witnessed what would happen.  After Dad left, my father in law said, "I owe you an apology.  I always thought you were lying about the things you say he does to you.  He really does it."    I just kept trying, even moved back here next door to them.  Little did I know that his dying wasn't the end.  It was just the beginning of the next round-

Dad was an unintentional participant in the VA's "See you in 2 wks" program back in 2012.  After those 2 wks took 3 months, the cancer was well positioned to win. Almost a year later in Oct 2013 after extensive chemo, surgery, tube feeding, O2, etc, I bathed, shaved and cut his hair while waiting for the TB test results so I could take him to hospice the following day. On a quick run to town, I got a call from home- "your father says he's ready to die.  He just wants to lay down on the floor so he can die."  There's no way I could pick him up alone, so I rushed home to put him in bed.  I did and he was dead in about 20 min.  I called the 911 paramedics, got him pronounced dead and helped carry him out & into the ambulance to go to the mortuary for cremation.   The next day at the mortuary, they wheeled him out of the cooler- stone cold and gray- so Ma and we could see him one last time.

In Dec, I'm at the credit union working on the estate with & for my mother.  The manager looking at paperwork says "that's good- at least the home equity loan he had was paid off a few days ago..."  I said "No, there wasn't any home equity loan.  he paid off the mortgage about 3 yrs ago."  She replied, "no this is the separate home equity loan that he took out after the mortgage was paid.  he paid it off last week.  It was an in-person counter transaction."  I told her he had been dead for almost two months. She assured me it was him.  They knew it was him because he had been making regular in-person (significant) withdrawals once a week for nearly two years while making regular payments on the home equity loan.  Things got even more awkward when I explained he had essentially been a homebound invalid, incapable of walking unassisted or driving,  for nearly a year before being cremated two months ago....

That was only the first chapter of things to come.  Lessons learned include what kind of father NOT to be for my daughter.   Sometimes the positive only exists in the negative. 

It is very nice to read about other people's good experiences as son & father, even if they are somewhat abstract to me.   Thank you for posting them.

That bit about the loan is spooky...
There’s a lot that we don’t understand.

[Beowulf]

I had a very kind father. He wasn’t Keen on motorcycles but he tried his best. He taught me to hunt and fish and not worry about the small things. He was an unbelievable good shot. He made a point of teaching my brothers and I to be honest hardworking and help others when possible. He was always looking for ways to help other people and at the time I didn’t realize it.

He would teach is different mechanical tasks on vehicles ( later I found out the cars came from people at church who couldn’t afford to fix them) he used it to teach us.

We cut a lady’s lawn in the Neighborhood and she show up with pizza as a thank you ( found out after he died that he was buying the pizza).

He took an enormous amount of time just making sure we were alright. For a time I went to live with my grandfather as my mother was very sick and I’m the hospital and father was working doing everything he could to make ends meet. I learned much from my grandfather as well. Very smart man, engineer, former jet pilot in the Air Force. He took a lot of time as well to just be with me. He was always present in my growing up and would call frequently to talk to me and see how I was doing. Meant a lot.

Another person I’d like to mention during this time was my grandmother as my mom recovered which took a while I was cared for by my grandma on my mothers side who was very Italian and boy did she she take care of me. She ran a flower shop and I would help with deliveries. She was very skilled with Japanese flower arranging. Made good money doing it. I called her frequently and visited every chance I got. I feel blessed to know such talented kind people. Reading through the experiences has been therapeutic as I think about each one of them. One post among many, a thousand memories that can’t be repeated and time that I never regret spending with them. Thank you Huzo sometimes experiences with family can make us feel vulnerable sharing with others but those who make us feel small are not Worth considering.

[cliffrod]

That bit about the loan is spooky...
There’s a lot that we don’t understand.

The spooky part is that was only the beginning of the stuff with him.  Glad it seems to be fading into the past.

At least no one has showed up saying they're my brother or sister.  That happened with my Master Sculptor during my apprenticeship.  A woman came in during lunch when he was gone, asking for him by name.  We asked if we could give him a message.  She says "tell him his sister was here." ?!?- we said he doesn't have a sister.  She says, "yes he does." 

She came back later and had a long visit with him, including a big photo album of all of them together with his father over the years as they grew up.  Apparently his father had another wife and kids in another state at the same time he was married to my sculptor's mother and running the studio.  All those regular "business" trips were more that just business.  And that's probably why he never seemed to make any money at the studio- he was apparently supporting two households.   So at about age 50, My sculptor was dumbfounded to learn that he had 3-4 half siblings that were the same age as him.  He was in a weird funk for a while after that.

maybe that metaphoric knock on my door is yet to come, whatever the specific details might be.  Not much would surprise me at this point.

[della moto]

Fantastic thread. Thanks, All, for sharing.

[Gliderjohn]

Not sure how I missed this thread until now. I was adopted at birth in 1955. My adoptive parents were my father born in 1904 and my mother in 1914. Here is a picture of my father in a pre WWII photo.



askepios lyrics

GliderJohn

[Huzo]

I wanted to revisit this thread.
Today I was delivering a new truck to a location that took me past where we were on that night of which I wrote in the opening story.
I realised that I am now old enough to be the Father of the Man who was my Father in the story…
I do not know where the time went, but I can feel it is getting a long way behind. The access road is still there and everything looks the same, just a bit….smaller.

[Tkelly]

Thanks for reposting,at 81 I start wondering what my kids will be thinking about me as a father.Well as they say it’s never too late to try to do better.

[SIR REAL ED]

Thanks for re-igniting this thread Huzo.  I had to re-read the whole thing.  Heart warming!

Especially after spending three great riding days with Bulldog9 and some other Guzzistas!  Good days make for good memories!

I don't know if any of the other MG riders I met this weekend frequent this site.

[Huzo]

Thanks for re-igniting this thread Huzo.  I had to re-read the whole thing.  Heart warming!

Especially after spending three great riding days with Bulldog9 and some other Guzzistas!  Good days make for good memories!

I don't know if any of the other MG riders I met this weekend frequent this site.

❤️👍