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From Our April 2004 Edition




ll it’s April, and that reminds me of my Dad’s birthday. And thinking about my Dad makes me realize what a bunch of “pushover papas” my brothers have turned into. These McCarty fathers nowadays just baby their kids and let them do whatever they want. My Dad was an old-fashioned Dad and we were all better off for it.

First of all, nowadays these McCarty henpecked hubbies have to go to Lamaze class so they can help their wives breathe during labor. Six weeks of instruction so you can get yelled at in the delivery room. My Dad went through childbirth the old-fashioned way; he sat in the waiting room and smoked. And then when the doctor told him the kid was born he’d go see my Mom and then go home. You wouldn’t have caught my Dad anywhere near the delivery room, he didn’t even work on his own car! If that doctor had asked my Dad to cut the umbilical cord, he probably would have called Uncle Leroy and given him a case of beer and got him to cut it.

And nowadays those McCarty derelict dads put their kids in all kinds of organized sports. “Ohhh, here’s 57,000 pictures of my kid playing T-Ball.” Fiddle Fooey! When I was a kid, my Dad didn’t put any of us in organized sports. My dad would invent games like “WOW”, which was pretty much a way to bat around a piece of crumbled up paper before you threw it out. And then there was running down hills which was... well... running down hills. And if you wanted really competitive sports, my Dad would take us downstairs for a family game of floor hockey. You don’t know what parental love is all about until you’ve been hip checked into a player piano in the basement by your Dad. Sure, we got bruised up and had our feet stepped on, but we didn’t care we loved it!! Because we got to play with our Dad!

And my brothers like to talk to their kids about how life was when they were growing up. Like those idiotic kids are going to remember any of their boring stories. Kids don’t want to hear that crap which is why my Dad didn’t do that. He left us with memorable life sayings which I still use today. Stuff like, “You make a better door than a window!”, “Your barn door is open!”, or “Whoever smelt it, dealt it!”.

Growing up with my dad was better than any of those grandbrats will ever realize. So, on April 4th, which is my Dad’s birthday, stop what you’re doing for 5 minutes and forget about the Lamaze class, or the T-Ball game, or your boring stories. Just take your kid down into the basement, kick him in the shins and check him into the wall. You’ll all be better off for it.




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