I’m not going to say whether or not I voted for the man, where I come from (as my Pop says, “Back in my day Young Buck…”) we keep close to the vest, and while you-all are tipping over your cards and spilling your drinks, I’ll just keep shuffling my feet under the table and making my face as stone as I KNOW HOW TO DO. We will see what happens. Meanwhile, I need a woman like this by my side. She know’s it, too.
Now I’m thinking of my Pop. He used to say short one-liners. I say them (mumble) now. We repeat my parents in different methods. Pop was an old cowboy, not officially, in the way he dressed and handled situations/events. I remember his old-fashioned invoice book. Pop wrote down numbers and receipts with a stubby little pencil from his business with the cars. I used to read his mail to him, the long letters, and with the forms. I am not ashamed to say that he wasn’t college or even high school educated, but he could make a business work. That happened. And he didn’t need the other stuff. He was smart in old-school way and was nice enough to give the shirt off his back, but if you mad him angry he would also give chase down the street and whip you with it.
I saw him give his shirt to a homeless man once, and a sandwich. I also saw him speed up in a crosswalk to hit someone. He was serious. In the backseat, terrified and inside me, thrilled that my dad was a crazy motherf*ck#r, I learned not to be afraid of life. He said if you are afraid, that’s fine, he would help. “I’ll help you fix that.”
“Just put the quarters in the can, you’ll see.”
“Coffee makes you short.”
“Don’t just stand there like a hatrack.”
“Where’s Sally at?”
“If you don’t stand up for something, you’ll fall down for anything.”
“Boy, I had thoughts that lived longer than you.”
“Unless you’re sleeping with ’em, always say good morning.”
“Good idea… baaaaaad judgement.”