I called Jennifer, probably to go to the movies (when you’re 16 and living in Boring, TX, that’s about the only thing to do. Except bowl, I guess.) and got the not-infrequent answer,
“I can’t. I’m grounded.”
“Put your dad on the phone.”
I don’t really know what had gotten into me. I mean, that was the sort of crap I’d pull with my dad, but Jen’s dad was a little scarier, a whole lot sterner and well, not mine to harass. And fourteen years later, I don’t really remember what I said. Something about the prisoner and a deserved furlough, I think. All we know is that when he hung up the phone, he told Jen to get ready.
“Heather will be here in ten minutes to pick you up.”
I called him ‘Warden’ after that. Even bought him a silly key chain when I visited San Francisco that summer – a plastic oval with the words, “THE WARDEN” in red, angry-looking letters. Just as tacky as possible, like you’d expect tourist crap to be. He made a good show of putting it on his desk in the office, the way my dad had for years with with arts-and-crafts clay ashtrays, saved for the day he might actually take up smoking.
On Saturday night, back at Jen’s house after almost a dozen years, The Warden cracked some jokes about the prisoner (now an MBA grad).
“I still have that little thing you gave me, you know,” he said, inclining his head toward the direction of the office.
And he did. In the same spot it’s been since I (openly) read Seventeen magazine and wore denim cutoffs. I grinned, totally delighted that the joke had hung around for so many years. And then I made a mental note to ransack my father’s house when I see him in a couple weeks. If I don’t find any amoeba-shaped ashtrays, I’m gonna be really put out. I mean, especially since my old man actually smokes now.
P.S. This is the sight that greeted me on my dashboard when I went to run errands this afternoon. One oh eight. Try not to be jealous.
Dallas, Texas. Birthplace of swamp-ass.
That’s great! What a lovely man your friend’s dad was…and so sweet to point that out years later.
even at 16 you were a spitfire
Hope you have a good visit w/your father.
Ah, that is so cool that he kept it for so long. And there I thought I was a packrat!
You totally should…actually, that stuff should be out in the open just like my crappy pottery and age old pictures of us all in exactly the same place as before I moved out. Got to love Dads.
I love how men are such softies when it comes to their daughters. Thanks for the trip down memory lane Fish.
Aw Fish. That is such a nice story. I love it when my Dad still asks about the people that I only keep in contact with thru MySpace. It makes me think he really did care even though he was always so grouchy.
I grew up in Boring’s sister city. Depressing, MI.
Can you imagine what would happen today if we were seven years old and came home with self-made ashtrays from camp? I wonder what kids make today. Bike helmets? (Can you see where I’m going with this?)
Very sweet story.
Oh then feh – you’ll take care of both of us and we can probably swab each others trach. holes and goiters!!
i went back home last weekend for my 10 year high school reunion and stayed with my parents.in conversation about days passed, i found out that he had kept all the goofy things i had made him through the years. i have my own storage container and all the things made with paper (cards, homework, etc.) are filed under my first initial in his filing cabinet. my dad is not the type to be mushy or even forthright with his emotions, so needless to say – it melted my heart! hope you have a wonderful time with your daddy!
Awww…what a sweet story
To this day, my father has a scarf that I knitted for one of his birthdays (and yes, I knitted and needlepointed before the age of 10. I like to believe I’m aging backwards.) The only problem? I measured it around my neck, and he’s 6’3. I consider it yet another sign of unconditional love that he still puts it on, both ends meeting to just barely form a choker length, and then zips his coat up to hold it in place in order to get some use out of it.
This is such a great story. I’m sure you must mean a lot to that family for the father to still have the Warden key chain.
You don’t wear denim cutoffs anymore? sad
I live in San Antonio and, no offense to you personally, but anyone living in Houston or Dallas is automatically the butt of many TX jokes. Even Texans hate those two cities.
Holy ****, that’s hot. And seriously, ain’t nothin worse than swamp ass.
I hate summer.
After seeing the temp you have to put up with…so happy to be in London. Even if it is raining today!
WTF. And I thought living in Florida was hot!
Damn…I thought Florida was hot…geez.
Is that the dash of a VW Jetta?
Sure is.
I love that you took (and probably sent) that picture while driving. The thing that sets us apart most from the animals, other than our ability to accessorize, is our ability to multi-task.
I don’t ever remember it being this hot in SC. Seems like lately my car thermometer is 110-115.
I love to hear great Dad stories. I’m hoping that in my next life I have a great one!
My mom considers many of my friends as part of the family…and with her friends, well, they just consider me one of their mad bunch. It’s always amazing to realize that it’s not just OUR parents who cherish memories of us…so maybe the world DOES spin around me…hmm…
You’ve already put over 3K miles on your car?! Wow! You’re loving having a car, aren’t you?!
i know this is a weird time to post this – but i just started reading your blog and i around may 04 – and was broken hearted when u lost your kitten – did u ever find her????please say u did!
Swamp-ass…nice call. It’s been exceptionally hot in southern Ontario, which gives us ladies what I like to call swampy-cleavage. Gross…. Swamp ass is going on the list.
You and I drive the same car! As my friend (who later bought one) said when I first let her get behind the wheel… “It just makes me feel cute!” I hope yours makes you feel cute too.
I am afraid of what my car would say if it could leave me messages like yours does when I turn it on. I’m just happy it stil starts! (and flies low when I want it to)
And 108 is …HOT. I’ll quit bitchin’ about 90+ in Colorado Springs now.
Don’t know… Little Rock, AR is running neck and neck with ya.
Thank God for AC.
Loving your VW?
And cleavage sweat. (Swamp cleavage?)
Oh yah… I live in Mississippi, it’s been about 105 everyday here for the past week. BLEEEEAAAAHHHHH. Seven people have died in Memphis from the heat (about an hour away from where I am).