I was walking with my Dad in a mall in South Florida. This was my first visit with him since he had almost died from cirrhosis. After Mom died, he had tried suicide by the bottle. Now he was thin as a rail, but otherwise well, and he had quit drinking. So we are walking along, and out of a store ahead of us comes two stunning young gals, who turn and start walking ahead of us. Both had long legs and were wearing terry-cloth shorts that came out of nowhere and stopped very suddenly.
I told my Dad, "There is something about terry-cloth shorts that I find really appealing."
"I like the sound they make when they hit the floor." he replies.
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Another visit to see Pater, this time the setting is Aripeka, a small fishing town on the Gulf Coast north of St. Pete. Dad is showing us the local attractions. We are driving along, and I marvel at the number of construction sites we are driving by.
"There's been a building boom, for sure." Dad says as he turns onto a side road that leads past a row of small houses. Ahead of us, walking in our direction on the side of the road, was a young couple. The girl was dressed in a skimpy pair of cut-offs and what looked like the guy's shirt, as he was bare-chested. They were arm-in-arm; as lovers will often do, they were walking as close together as possible without tripping each other.
"Even in areas like this, new places are going up." Dad says, then he points at the girl as we pass her by. "That was recently made."
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Mom and I were sitting in one of the booths in Grant's instore diner. Grant's was a department store chain in the South decades ago. They are defunct now. There was also a hot dog stand in the middle of the store that had buns without crust that were browned with butter on the grill. Add in the pet department, with its three types of monkeys, parrots and macaws, and you had a low-rent amusement park.
But I wasn't in the mood to hassle the rhesus monkey. The night before, the folks had hosted a party, featuring booze and loud, obnoxious assholes that worked with my Dad. One or two were still there in the morning, sleeping it off in our living room. The whole house reeked of alcohol sweat, and evidence of the bacchnalia was everywhere. I had been unable to sleep, and was in a rotten mood.
I was 15, and very self-righteous. I was determined to never drink, never take drugs, and abstain from pre-marital sex. I stayed more faithful to the sex part of the oath, although not by choice. But I digress.
Anyway, I was mad and disgusted with my parents' night of drunken fun. However, when Mom asked me to lunch, I agreed to go. So there we are, I am eating the BLT, Mom is working on her favorite, the grilled cheese.
"Are you still mad about last night? she asks me.
Yeah, a little. I just don't understand why you all do it. I mean, it doesn't look fun to me, with the hangovers and all"
So Mom says. "We drink to show you how bad liquor is for you, and hope that you avoid following our example."
Then she looks at me with a straight face, timing it perfectly with my taking a big bite of the BLT. "You don't think we enjoy it, do you?"
Bacon and tomato sprayed all over my plate when I started laughing. That made Mother laugh. People at other tables looked at us with wonder and scowls, which made us laugh harder. We were still giggling when we paid and left.
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I'm in the back seat, riding to town with Mom and Dad, and on the radio a public service ad from the Salvation Army or some similar organization comes on. "Are you an alcoholic? Is someone in your family an alcoholic or dealing with an alcoholic? Is alcohol ruining your life and destroying your fami..." On and on goes the narrator. Dad is rolling his eyes, about ready to change the station. "Has alcohol caused your money troubles? Call us. Please don..."
Right then, Dad punched the station preset button, cutting off the speaker. "What do they do? Give drunks discounts on bottles?"
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