Be careful when making fun of Dear Old Daddy
The tree you’re standing under is me. The root you just stumbled upon? That was probably my dad. It’s amazing how we became the same people we said we would never be.
“Hey son! How’s your day going?” My father has a knack for always sounding like he just ate a bottle of pep pills. It is a trait that has been passed down from previous generations. “I’m fine,” I replied. My parents and I talk almost every day and usually for a good reason. They are puzzled once again as to why the printer is not working with their computer, or they are wondering why their computer is not working with their printer. Either way, I have come to hate Bill Gates.
Our conversation that day was just to “catch up” on what’s going on in our lives. I inform Dad of my latest public speaking reservations and Dad reciprocates by giving me the information from his calendar. Dad does what I do but he does it for the churches. In other words, my father and I get paid for what they used to make us go out into the hallway: talk a lot.
This particular morning our conversation did not last long. Before hanging up, Dad wanted to tell me that he had received a phone call from a certain person who was going to book him to do his finance seminar and then we said goodbye and hung up. typical call. Typical day. So I thought.
Near the end of that same day, I received a second phone call from my dad, and my mom was listening on her other phone. Often both are on the line when they call. Right before I hang up, Dad starts telling me again about this person who had called him and wanted to schedule him for a seminar. Now, before you think that my dad is losing his memory, let me clarify. He has never had one. Not really, but my dad has always been a story repeater, a joke repeater, a story repeater, and a joke repeater. This was just another story I was going to listen to politely, again, or jump in and interrupt the inevitable.
I decided to respond with “You already told me this dad.” Usually he goes “oh” and we drop it. However, this time he was sure he hadn’t. I insisted that it was, and began to repeat the details of the name, the place, and the circumstances that I had shared earlier that day. Hesitating to give up, he finally did with an “oh, I guess I should have told you already.” I could hear Mom laughing on the other phone and we all laughed as our conversation came to an end.
The next day my daughter, my wife, and I were sitting around our table getting ready to eat. I started to strike up a conversation by telling them about the phone call I had with my dad the day before. I laughed as he did his best to explain to my wife and teenage daughter how Grandpa Jack was so insistent on not repeating his story when he actually had. While still making fun of my dad, my daughter started laughing and cut me off with the next line. “Dad, you already told us about your conversation with Grandpa. You told us last night.” – True story!
Moral of the story?
I don’t remember the moral of the story. Ask my daughter.