My father was a tunnel rat. I never knew that about him until some nights when brother Jack got the best of him. He had two purple hearts and a silver star to prove what a great abuser he was.. I still have them, he thought he lost them in a car wreck one night when they impounded his vehicle for his drunk self but I went through the stuff he took on that joy ride and found them.. He was trying to kill himself because none of us loved him anymore.. In fact it was the exact opposite. We loved him and wanted him to get help.
He would tell me some shit that would even make the Q anon bunch's head spin here. I was never really sure of what the fuck he was talking about but he was my dad and regardless of how manny waitresses' ass he pinched in front of my mother and the way he told me that I should have a girl in every surrounding town so they didn't know who I was fucking, he was a great coach and my mentor until he wasn't any longer. He was your typical bad ass and only cared when it meant something to him.
I sort of followed in his footsteps with the drinking part but his idea of women versus mine was a terrible crossroad. It's probably why I agreed with my ex that we shouldn't have kids. I'm pretty sure he's alive today because his side of our family is fairly well to do and would most likely reach out to one of us if he ever bit the biscuit, but if I ever saw him again, I wouldn't know wether to hug him or put him out of his misery.
LOL walking down memory lane, I can't believe all the shit I did to survive when I was young. I'm trying to think back to anytime I slept. It's probably why I feel so deflated today.
But like you always say "this is America motherfucker, the land of opportunity for everyone, if you're willing to reach out and grab it"
Let us not see that opportunity disappear in our lifetimes and pass our ideals on to the next generation Mr. Zab.
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