If you have read a lot of dumb dumb daddy-o you may have come to the conclusion that my dad was some kind of super hero. Maybe he was in some ways or maybe that’s just what I wanted him to be. Recently, I have been coping with a string of bad and confusing recollections that have slowed my pace of DDD posts to a crawl. This exercise in remembering the young man I didn’t get to know has me running into the old man I sometimes couldn’t stand and this old man is me.

My dad was so sarcastic I don’t know if I ever really knew what he was trying to tell me. Several years ago I couldn’t say anything to my daughter Chloe without her bawling and running to her room inconsolable. It was so bad I started to think there was something seriously wrong with her until my wife explained, “She doesn’t get your sarcasm!” Oh, what’s wrong with her is she has a dumb dumb daddy-o as a father.

Recently, I was playing a rare game of golf with a friend and on the last tee of the day I was punched in the face with a painful dumbdumbdaddyoism. I had been crushing the ball all day and driving the long ball is one of my favorite athletic accomplishments. Every once in a while, when the planets and stars align and the wind and gravity are in my favor I can make the green with my drive on a par four. I was sure this was going to be one of those drives so I gave it all I had duffing it in the process. The ball didn’t make it past the ladies’ tee and I strained my brittle back and worst of all I clearly heard my dad say, “You should swing a little harder next time.” I knew he was being sarcastic and it would make me so mad. So just like I would when I was a kid I teed up a Mulligan and swung for the fences. And just like back then I launched it impossibly far, rocketing it irretrievably out of bounds, and out of sight. My buddy asked what that was all about and I chuckled saying that one was for my Old Man.

“Hit it Alice.”

“Hardly worth looking up for!”

“You hit it where you were aiming.”

“This is a golf cart not a race car.”

“This is golf not ping pong.”

“This is golf not rocket science.”

“Go ahead and hit it, they’ll move.”

“If there was a green over there that would’ve been a great shot.”

“You better hurry up and slow down.”

“It’s already dead. You don’t have to kill it.”

“Swing a little harder next time!”

“What do I know? I’m just your Dumb Dumb Daddy-o.”

Dad, can you please not talk during my back-swing?

PTO President or School Board Member?

Suzy asked me last night if she should become the PTO President or run for the school board? I said she should do both. She's the last woman standing at our daughters' school. No one else will participate. She'll be President and the principle Mr. States (a walking blessing to our school) said he would take on the responsibilities for the remaining vacant positions. This past year she was Vice President and on the board at our pre-school, oh and she also works and blogs like a fool at savedbysuzy.blogspot.com. I told her to sleep on it and I prayed on it and this morning I pull a scrap of wood bx wisdom and it's written for her.

Suzy you are the only voice on the side of truth so your voice must be distinct and strong. Only you can make the difference. Mesa County and Sheledy Elementary Education can be SAVED BY SUZY!

No pressure but the wood box is wise beyond explanation.

My Dad was Las Vegas

Great night out in Las Vegas!

It was "his town!" Convention Capitol of the World. My Dad loved Las Vegas. He used to tell me a story about playing single deck 21 one night and non other than Elvis Presley came up and sat right next to him. He said within minutes the table was surrounded five or six people deep and Elvis apologized for attracting such a crowd and asked everyone at the table if it would be all right if he stayed and played a while. It was only then that he realized who he was and noticed the scene that was developing around them. Just a couple of southern boys playing 21 and sticking it to the house. He said they talked about the war and that Elvis asked him how he was from Alabama but talked like a Yankee. My Dad always made a point to say even Elvis had the good sense to stick to the two dollar tables. It's hard not to like a guy who calls book on every hand in single deck 21 and rejoices over his neighbors victories.

My Dad taught me how to play. I never saw him loose and most times I would get to play all night with his winnings. He said it was easy to count into a single deck. Easy for him maybe.

I didn't do so well this go around and heard him say, "You pay to play not to get rich." and "Loosing is no fun at all so when your loosing walk away so you can play another day."

Suzy and I went to the Reve, cruised the shops and finished the night with some dueling pianists. Most fun I've had in a while. I guess it's my town now.