10/9/34-11/11/07

Miss you and love you, Pop.
(Thanks to my friend Dave for this picture from my wedding.)

Paticus' Past, Volume 19:Halloween Edition...The Haunted House

The Haunted House

  I guess I was 5 or 6…Maybe 7. Maybe older… I don’t really know. My family was at some amusement park that included a haunted house. Part of me is thinking that it was the “Haunted House at Long Branch”, but I think that’s only true if there was a smaller haunted house there as well, because I can’t quite imagine wanting to enter the major Haunted House at Long Branch.

  I figure I must have said at some point that I did want to go into the haunted house. I don’t know why I would have said this, but I’m guessing that I did, because I am pretty sure that neither of my parents would have tried to force to me to go into a haunted house. Knowing myself fairly well, I am also pretty sure that I would have been fairly terrified to go into the haunted house. I don’t know if my Dad decided to go into the haunted house because I said I wanted to, but was clearly scared, or if I decided that I would go because my Dad was going. Either way, we did go into the Haunted House.

    A little aside here, as a kid, I did have a bad habit of being rather indecisive, and I think I drove my parents fairly crazy. I remember one time when we were down the shore, and there was a water slide. Everyone else in my family was going on the water slide. I wanted to go on the water slide. No I didn’t. Yes, I did. No, I didn’t. You getting the picture? I also did not have a swimsuit. I do remember that my parents  bought me one, so I must have been pretty convincing for awhile that I really wanted to go on the water slide. Only I didn’t. And that was the final outcome. I did NOT go on the water slide. So, that is a little insight into what the lead-up to the haunted house might be.

    This time, I did go through with it. We went into the haunted house. I honestly do not remember all that much about it, but there is one thing that I do remember. We were crossing this “bridge”(which I’m sure was a foot off of the ground, but at the time, I might as well have been above the Grand Canyon), and I recall that these other kids(damn teenagers) who were in the haunted house decided that it would be funny to jump out at us. I thought I was going to fall into the canyon, and I reacted with the correct amount of terror for such a fall. I didn’t think it was very funny, and neither did my Dad.

   I didn’t hear exactly WHAT my Dad said to them, but I do know that he grabbed a hold of at least one of them, and made it clear that scaring his kid was NOT a good idea. I think at the time I probably embellished it a bit, and imagined that my Dad tossed them over the bridge and things like that, but I’m guessing it was just a few choice words.

    I would like to say that I was super brave for the rest of that trip through the haunted house, but that’s not really the case, but I was a little bit emboldened by the fact that I knew my Dad had my back. Just like he always did.

Happy Father's Day:School of Rock: Sonic Saturday 6/20/2009

Okay, so the father's day post is going to be a day early...Bite me. But when you listen to the Sonic Saturday song, I think it will all make sense.

Tomorrow is Father's Day. So, I'd like to wish a Happy Father's Day to all the Dads out there. As I stated last year, this has been a tough day for me since my Dad died in 2007. I'd like to beg your indulgence and say a little something to him. I'll try to not be too maudlin.

Happy Father's Day, Pop. I wish a little more than usual that I had you here to talk to. I think fatherhood is kicking my ass. Sometimes I feel like I'm failing the girls on a daily basis, and I just feel like they deserve better. Some days, I think that I'm breaking even, and at least staying ahead of them actually hating me. On the best days, I feel like I'm doing my job, and I'm helping mold a couple of kids that I can be proud of, that i hope you would be proud of too.

I know this sounds like a lot of self-pitying bullshit...And it probably is...But I think I'd like to hear you tell me that. Hell, I'd like to hear you tell me that I'm right, that I'm a train wreck of a Dad, and I need to get my shit together, and give me that look. You know the one. I caused you to get real good at that look, I think.

So, I hope you're having a good Father's Day, Daddy-O. I miss you. I love you.

Flaaaaashbaaaaaack.....

Wow...I just had a major flashback to my childhood...Do you guys remember Charleston Chews ? A friend of mine on Facebook just did one of those LivingSocial Pick Your Fives(which I will admit, are sort of addictive) about 5 favorite candies, and one of her choices was Charleston Chews.

This got me thinking about Charleston Chews, which I also quite enjoyed when I was a kid. Charleston Chews are taffy covered in chocolate. there are currently Vanilla, chocolate and strawberry. On Wikipedia, they say that there was also once a banana. Which is true, there also was once a grape, which Wikipedia does not mention, but which I definitely remember. It wasn't very good. I think that there were maybe some other flavors as well. But I do not remember any specifics, so I could be wrong. I definitely remember the grape though.

  Anyway, Charleston Chews were always best when you froze them, and then you would hit them on a hard surface, and they would break into pieces. Very tasty.

  That got me thinking about summer days in my childhood(we're talking mid to late '70's here-'76,'77,'78. I used to go with my Mom to take my Dad lunch at the bar he owned and tended during the day. There was a candy store/newsstand across the park from my Dad's bar, and I was a fairly regular customer there. I don't know if it was actually called Dave's, but that's what we called it, because the very nice guy who ran it was named Dave.

  we used to go in there, and I would look at comics and candy and gum, and I was usually allowed to pick something that my Mom would buy me. If we went to Dave's before we went to my Dad's, I would often choose a Charleston Chew, and then we would bring it to the bar, and my Dad would put it in the beer cooler(which of course got everything colder faster), and after a video game or two(or 5 or 10), we would take it out and CRACK it on the bar. And those Charleston Chews always tasted better than the ones we would freeze at home.ALWAYS.

  Okay, that's my time in the wayback machine. I appreciate your indulgence.

10/9/34-11/11/07

10/9/34

Happy birthday, Pop.

I'm hoping that wherever you might be, you have more important(and fun) things to do than read a blog, but I thought I'd wish you a happy birthday,and let you know what's going on.

Things are good, overall. The girls are great and silly and crazy and maddening. Mom is getting a kick out of hearing how they are driving us just a little bit nuts. I'm sure she thinks it's sweet revenge for what I must have you two through. I wish you could see them. In fact, it's the one thing that makes me hope that there is something akin to the traditional old movie version of heaven, so that maybe every once in awhile you can take a peek down and see what they are up to. I think you'd get a kick out of them. I tell them about you every chance I get. They'll know who their Grandpa was, even if they might not remember you.

My Special Lady's good. Still expanding the minds of youth. Her book should be coming out in the spring. Pretty jazzed about that.

We're in the process of moving. We found a house that is bigger than the apartment,and has a yard and such, and it's only 30 bucks more in rent. Score for us! It even comes with a swing set. We're all pretty excited about it. If all goes well, we'll be moved in by next weekend.

Mom's doing well. She's a tough lady(though I'm guessing you knew that). We were up to visit over the summer, and she and the girls had a great time together. We're going up again for Christmas.

Everyone else is doing well. I'm gonna let them let you know about their goings on in their own way.

The Mets did it to us again, Pop. Not quite as egregious as losing the 7 game lead with 17 to play, but still fairly ugly. We'll see what they can do to fix it. And wait till next year.

Your Giants are 4 and 0 and looking pretty tough, we'll see what happens when they meet the freight train that is the Dallas Cowboys, though.

Brett Favre is leading the Jets straight to the middle. Man, I wished we could have talked about all that drama this summer. It just was not the same without talking to you about it. Not much is.

Well, I suppose I have wasted enough of your time. I just wanted to let you know that I was thinking about you, and that I miss you. Happy birthday, Daddy-O.

Love- Paticus

Happy Father's Day

This is a conflicted day for me.

I am a father, so it's a day that means something to my family now.

But it's a day that I don't know will ever be the same for me. As most of you know, my Dad passed away in November. It Occurs to me tonight that this is something that I have still not gotten over. I don't know that I ever will. I don't know that I ever want to. I assume that as the years pass, the pain will be less acute most days, but I think today is a day that's always going to hurt a bit.

Now, before I get all painfully morose( I hope that I won't) let me qualify a bit: I am well aware that there are people who have it much worse than me. I know people who lost their Dad while they were in high school, and I know that there are people that may have lost him earlier, or perhaps never knew him at all. I realize that I am lucky that I had my Dad in my life for 37 years.

I realize also that I am lucky that I had a Dad that I wanted in my life, and one that wanted me in his. So, I realize that things could have been far worse.

That doesn't make the fact that I can't call my Dad tomorrow and wish him a Happy Father's Day hurt any less. That I can't tell him about what we are going to do tomorrow for Father's Day. That we can't complain about what the hell is going on with the Mets. That still hurts.

Sorry if this is a bit meandering...I'm kinda working through it in my head as I'm typing it. My hope is that I can be even half the father to my girls that my Dad was to me. I hope that I can show them how to treat people decently, and do it through actions as much as words.

I hope that I have the same capacity for the unconditional live that my Dad had for me. Believe me, I was a real douchebag for a few of those teen years, yet I never felt unloved or unprotected. That's the other big hope, I hope that I can make my girls feel as safe as my Dad always made me feel.
At times I doubt I can do any of that for them, but I'm sure giving it a try.

So, I guess I have wasted enough of your time by now. I guess I'll close by wishing all the Dad's out there a Happy Father's Day.

And Pop, Happy Father's Day to you. I love you and I miss you.

(I'll let you guess who the macho man in the picture with my Dad is)

Emergency Contact...

I had a weird moment the other day...I'll warn you right now, it's not "funny" weird..It was just weird...And upsetting...And it's kinda been on my mind since then, so I'm gonna write about it here...It's probably a bit self-indulgent...And maybe pathetic, but hey...That's me too...

I was at the Dermatologist the other day, for my yearly "skin check" (which I need to do since they removed the "pre-cancerous" moles from my back last year), and they needed me to fill in a new Employee Information" sheet. No big deal, right ? I mean, it's always a bit of a pain in the ass to re count all that crap, but no big whoop.

Until, I got to the Emergency Contact line. That punched me in the gut a little bit. My emergency contact had always been my Dad. It's just weird. I mean, he's obviously always gone. And I think of him a lot, and I think of how he might handle things that I might be facing. I was just surprised by how much it hurt to really be faced with a concrete example of him not being here anymore.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not alone. My Mom is still around when I need someone, and I have older brothers and sisters that I can count on, and I still have my Special Lady(saint that she is) and even my girls to lean on. And I have some dear friends. I know that there are people with lives faaar worse than mine, and I know I'm being a whiny bitch at the moment. And I also don't think I really had any point to all this.

I guess maybe I just needed to be a whiny bitch for a moment. So thanks for listening.

Paticus' 115th Dream(Apologies to Bob Dylan)

I had this very fucked up dream the other night, the kind that when I woke up, I was actually shaking.
What's that ? You would like to hear about it ? Sure, here goes:

I was in the bar that my Dad owned while I was growing up. He and I were sitting at the bar. those of you who visit the Flats regularly will notice why this in itself may have made the dream unsettling. First time visitors, you can check here to see what I'm talking about.

But we were sitting at the bar in the middle of the day, and there were a few other people that I remember as regulars while my Dad was working. It started as a pretty mundane dream. I remember folks making fun of me for being a Dallas Cowboys fan, which was pretty standard anytime I was in there(they were having even more fun this time, as the hometown Giants had just knocked my Cowboys out of the playoffs)

I remember my Dad walking off to talk to an old family friend, and then them both walking up this set of stairs that led to the back rooms of the bar. The man with my Dad looked over his shoulder at me, and I didn't like what I saw in his eyes. I called to my Dad, but he said everything was fine.

I turned back to the bar, and everyone was gone. Well, everyone except one guy, who was now sitting next to me. He was someone that I remembered from when I was a kid, and he was always a good guy. He put his arm around me, clinked his glass against mine, and said everything was just fine.

Everything did not seem fine. I looked at my glass, and then when I looked up, it was dark outside.My Dad was still not back. I got up and decided to go check on him. The guy who was previously sitting next to me was now between me and the stairway. He wasn't looking at me, but i decided to go around the back way anyway.

Just as I got up from the bar was when I smelled the smoke. And as I opened the door that led to the other stairwell to the backroom, smoke came billowing towards me.Someone had set the building on fire. I ran towards the stairs, but I turned the wrong way, and instead fell down the stairs to the basement(I'm not sure exactly what it means to be a non-heroic loser even in your dreams, but I doubt it means anything good).

The basement of the bar always freaked me out as a kid. It was stone ,and it was always dark and cold and damp(it's where the kegs were). It had "Silence Of the Lambs" feel, years before "Silence Of the Lambs" even came out. I had not actually been down there since I was probably 9 or so, so it was the nightmarish basement of my childhood mind that I fell into. So, I decided to get the fuck out the basement quickly.
As I reached the top of the stairs, someone grabbed my arm, and held it while they hit me in the face repeatedly with the door to the basement. I think it was after 5 or 6 hits that I finally woke up, shaking.

That's it.

Fun, huh ?

The Answer is: We Don't Have Waffles.

The Question ?
What 4 words are the last you would expect to hear at a WAFFLE HOUSE ?

Well, we heard them last night. It was un-fucking-believable. I'm not an unreasonable man(my twin 2 year old girls ? They are unreasonable- and they WANTED waffles) but there are some things I expect in life, and one of them is, when I enter any of the seemingly 7 billion Waffle Houses along I-95 or I-295, or whatever other fucking I-blah blah blah I am driving on, I should be able to eat a fucking WAFFLE !!!! And, I should be able to give waffles to my precious spawn who had spent the last hour in the car saying "waffle ?" to me and My Special Lady.

There is an upside, if they had not been unable to make waffles, I would not have ordered a hamburger, and if I had not ordered a hamburger(a dry, overcooked cheeseburger with non melted cheese on a bun that disintegrated upon contact with my hands), I would not be able to tell you that yesterday, January 1st, 2008, I had the two WORST HAMBURGERS I have ever eaten in my life. And I eat a LOT of fucking hamburgers(I eat my share of virginal hamburgers as well), so it is quite a feat that the two worst hamburgers I have eaten in my 37 years on this planet were ingested on the same day.

What's that ? You would like to know about the OTHER hamburger ? It was from Wendy's,and I actually brought it back once, and they made me ANOTHER one, that was almost as bad. The bun was like rubber, they had fucking SLATHERED it in mustard. it was just unpleasant. I can't really do it justice. Just trust me on it, it was a shitty burger.

Food misadventures a side, we have all safely returned to the Sunshine State.

My holidays were okay, thanks for asking. I visited my Dad's grave on Christmas, and I had a talk with him.(It was somewhat telepathic,as My Special Lady was there, and I thought she might club me and run away if I started speaking out loud.) I did tell him that I missed him, and that my Mom was doing okay. And that's all I'll say about that for now- I don't mean to bring the room down.

We spent New Year's in Rocky Mount, North Carolina. And I'll tell you what, if you have never spent New Year's in Rocky Mount, North Carolina, I don't really have anything to tell you to convince you to do so, except that the porn selection at the Courtyard by Marriott is decent.

So anyway, Happy New Year to you all.

Paticus' Past:Volume 9: Caught Smoking !

I used to be a smoker. I quit my regular habit ten years ago. I have had a few periods where I would take smoke breaks during stressful times at work since, but it's been a few years since those, and now I will have a smoke or two if I am having a few drinks, but otherwise, I pretty much consider myself an ex-smoker. I am not a militant ex smoker, I don't mind if other people smoke, but I am not here to discuss my views on personal freedom and all that.

Nope, I'm here to regale you with the story of how my parents' found out that I smoked. Now, I did not start smoking until I was a senior in high school, and I managed to hide it from them until Graduation Night. I was almost out !!

It starts back a few weeks, at my Senior Prom...Windows on the World...Awwww...Well, they videotaped our Prom, and everyone got a copy. I don't remember when we got it, but a bunch of us went to a friends' house and watched it. Of course, it's a horror show...But the most disturbing thing about it is that of the I would say at least 30 people that were smoking at said Prom, only ONE appears in the video smoking a cigarette...Guess who ?

That's right...Your dear old narrator, Paticus. As my friends' were all saying goodbye to me, as they knew that I would certainly be killed when I arrived home and my parents saw the evidence, someone said something that gave me hope...I'm still not sure who said it, but I know I heard it..."Do your parents have to see the video ?"

Why,no...They don't...They don't even know it exists !! Holy shit, what a break !! All I had to do was hide the video, and they would never find out that I smoked !! EVER !!! It was genius !!!
And it worked...Until...Graduation...Graduation went fine, and I hung out with my friends for a bit before I went home to go out to dinner with my family.

When i got home, my Mom was on the porch. As soon as she saw me coming up the stairs, she said the following words to me..."So, where's the Prom video ?"

"Huh ?" I responded, hoping against hope that a meteor would crash in the front yard, or some other diversion would make the question disappear...Alas, it was not to be, and she simply asked the question again. I knew from watching 5 brothers and sisters get in trouble that lying was not going to help, so I needed to buy some time for that meteor to hit the front yard.

"How do you know there's a prom video ?"

"Mrs. So-and-So(not an alias, by the way, there was a kid named Jasper So-And-So in my class, he was Norwegian, I think) said that you looked cute on it." (On a side note, Mrs. So-And-So is correct, I am absolutely adorable on the video, I wore a top hat and tails, plus I'm high and a little drunk, which is always charming)

"Oh, well you don't want to see that anyway. It's cheaply made. Absolutely no production value. It's really grainy.It's a piece of crap, really."
"I would like to see it."

"Really, Mom, you don't. It's stupid."

" I want to see it." It was time to take a different angle, one that I was pretty sure was just going to back me into a corner, but I was pretty well fucked anyway, so I thought I would throw up the Hail Mary Pass.

"Well, I would rather you didn't see it." I figured, maybe,just MAYBE, she would see it as a free speech issue, and respect my privacy, and let it go.

"Why don't you want me to see it ?" Here's where it got sticky for me. I obviously couldn't give the real reason. I went with the old teenager standby.

"I dunno. Just 'cause I don't." I knew that wouldn't work.

" Why don't you want me to see it ?" It was over. My only chance would have been to punch her and run away. That wasn't gonna happen.

"Because I'm smoking in it, okay ?"

"That's okay. I smoked when I was your age." I knew she had smoked. In fact, she smoked when I was a kid, and I used to beg her to quit. But I still expected her to be mad. That was okay, though, as my Dad was mad enough for both of them.

I went up to my room, and I held out hope that she would not tell my Dad, but as soon as I walked down the stairs, I could see the look in his eye. He was pissed. But worse than that, I knew he was disappointed, and for me, the only thing worse than pissing my Dad off was disappointing him.

He looked at me and said, "You know, that why I can't breathe." Then he walked away. My dad had smoked too, and he also owned and worked in a bar, and he had asthma due to it.
We went to dinner, and everything seemed okay. Then my friends came to pick me up, and I said I was leaving, and my Dad told me to be home by ten. I was about to protest, but I thought better of it and shut up.

We went to a graduation party, but got kicked out because it was "only for close friends". I heard that one of the neighbors called in a noise complaint shortly after that, but I'm sure we knew nothing about that.

Anyway, it was 9:30. and we were gonna go over to another kid's house, so I called my house, and my Dad answered the phone. I told him that my friends were going to this other kids house, and before I could ask for an extension, he said,'Listen, I didn't realize what time it was when you left, you can stay out, I'll see you later." I thanked him and hung up the phone.

I was never comfortable smoking in front of my Dad. I doubt I did it more than a couple of times in the ten years I smoked.

So that's how my folks found out I smoked.

Farewell, Daddy-O.

I'm back. At least physically I am.

I first want to thank everyone for their kind words and thoughts. They mean a lot to me.


And I'm sure I will return to my regularly scheduled stupidity soon enough, but I beg your indulgence, as I need to say goodbye to someone.



I have never really done this before, so I'm not sure how it will turn out, but I'm moving forward anyway. I don't know if this is the most appropriate venue for this or not, but it's my place to record my thoughts, and quite frankly, I think I need to let people know what he meant to me. Is it more for me than him, yeah it probably is, but I guess I'm a selfish prick, then. If you would like to continue reading, please do, if not, that's fine.



As most of you probably know, my father passed away on the 11th of November. It was unexpected, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. I still can't quite believe that he's gone. The acute pain has subsided a bit, but I think this one is going to hurt for a long time. A really long time.


I think my sister stated it best when she said..."I just feel like nothing is ever going to be okay again." That's about how it feels. My Dad was always there for us(I'm the youngest of 6). No matter what it was we needed, he was there. Advice, money, a shoulder to lean on. He was the one who would make things okay.



He taught me what unconditional love is. I know I did not always make it easy for him to love me, but I always knew he did. Being manly men, we did not say it all that often, but it did get said, and more importantly, it was shown.



As I said to my daughters the afternoon I found out he died(they, being 2, don't know what the hell I was saying, but I said it anyway), "If you think half of me what I think of your Grandpa, I'll feel lucky."



I remember once when I was in kindergarten, I had gotten this stupid little shark ring out of a gumball machine, and I wore it to school. Some of the other kids made fun of me and said that only girls wore jewelry. I went home crying, and my Mom tried to make me feel better, and when my Dad got home,she told him what had happened, and he sat me down and showed me his wedding ring, and told me that I should tell those kids that my dad wears a ring, and that they could come talk to him. I wore my stupid little shark ring proudly after that.



I don't want this to just be maudlin though, because my Dad was a funny, funny man, and he loved to laugh. A huge, booming laugh that he passed on to his kids.



I remember once we were at my Uncle's house, and one of his kids was sewing patches on the butt of her jeans. They lived in a town called River Edge, and she was sewing an "R" on one cheek, and an "E" on the other. my Dad looked at it, and said "What does that stand for, rear end ?" She turned bright red, and the rest of us fell over laughing.



I think the best thing I can say about my Dad is that he was a good guy. He was going to be honest with you, even if it was not necessarily what you wanted to hear. He would help you in anyway he could. He loved his family, loved his friends. And in turn he was well loved. I sure hope that he knew that.



I will leave you with a few of my Dad's best quips...



"You lose your charm when you lift your arm."



And my all time favorite, if someone was complaining about being in pain, my Dad would ask..."Does your face hurt ?", and when they answered "No.", he would smile and say"Well, it's killing me !" And then he would laugh. That huge laugh. I miss that laugh.



I miss you, Pop.



I love you.



"Fare you well
Fare you well
I love you more than words can tell
Listen to the river sing sweet songs
To rock my soul"- "Brokedown Palace"-Hunter/Garcia