A father's wisdom (part 1 of whatever)

My father is a very intelligent man, but an intelligent man who has had a difficult life.

Lately I find myself thinking of some of the advice he's given me over the years (most of it practical and self re-enforcing)

I remember this one time,  we had taken one of those (to a kid) interminable hour and a half long trips down to the city to go to the lumber yard (at the time gas was cheap enough that we could buy lumber down in the valley cheaper than we could get it locally, even after factoring in the cost of gas).  I was  ten or eleven (just a year or two away from getting my first job with a friend of the family who had his own construction business), and we were cruising around in our old beat-up two tone 1970 GMC with the home-made pipe rack bolted into the post sockets, looking for a place near the loading dock so that we wouldn't have to cart our purchases too far (my father never paid for loading, no matter the size of the load, even with the old 5 ton international he always loaded himself, no matter how large the load was) 

Anyway, there was a group of very attractive teenage girls walking across the parking lot in front of us, and I made some pre-adolescent braggart's quip about how I sure wish those three were hot for my body (it was the 80's, cut a guy some slack. Seriously, two of them were in acid wash with day-glo tops, they'd probably emptied about four cans of hairspray between them that day).

Anyway, he stopped the truck, right in the middle of the traffic lane, turned and looked at me, and gave me the best advice a father could ever give his son on the subject.

"I want you to remember, if ever you are in a position where attractive young women are hot for your body, to take a good long look in the mirror and ask yourself why.  Because chances are they want something.  And if they don't want something, then chances are they have something.  And trust me, it's something you don't want."

Very simple.  Not nearly as long or convoluted as many of the lessons he's taught me over the course of my life, and not nearly as difficult or trying as much of the knowledge he's allowed me to 'earn' over the years.  But it stuck with me. 

I still don't know what the balance is.  Whether it's prevented enough trouble in my life to outweigh many of the opportunities for fun that I've ignored or declined.  But it stuck with me.

My father turns 68 this month, just six years younger than his father was when he died.  I'm not sure how much longer he's going to be with us.  His health has been failing, and the stress of this latest cluster fuck with my sister and her family is weighing heavily on him. 

I just think that I need to start writing down some of the things he's taught me, because I don't want to forget.  I don't even mention it when he tells the same stories, or shows me the same mechanical or horticultural techniques that he's shown me a hundred times before, because I want to make sure it sticks.

Once the older generation dies, I don't know how much longer we'll last in this country.  There are few people left who know how to manage without computers, cell phones, the internet.  Even our engineers and mechanics and machinists use computerized design and diagnostic software in place of practical knowledge. 

And we're all too busy trying to get by to just sit listen to the stories.