FATHER - I GOT IT

I remember once a friend of ours came to our apartment. He was 11-12 years old. He entered our
apartment through the front door without knockin’. My father accidentally red a gun at him. I'd
like to think it was accidental...it happened so quick...no one was hurt...

Lesson Learned - Everyone learned to knock rst, even when you know the door is not locked.

My father loved to clean his guns and always seemed to have one nearby, even though he had a
lockable 6-foot high gun closet. He would teach us all about the safety and usage of rearms.

My father’s millionaire boss admired dad and he once offered to at out buy him a home. He knew
our family numbers at home were not ideal for 2 bedrooms. He really liked and admired my father.
He had a baby elephant and giraffe on his property...He was that kinda wealthy. 'Ya Think?

My dad initially turned down the offer. He was too proud to accept his boss's 1st offer, but after
telling my mother what he did, and my mother's rath, he was not too proud to go back and
accept nancial assistance in the form of a hefty down payment. We all  grew from the offer.

Because of his generosity, we were able to move out of the crowded 2 bedroom apartment into
a small 3-bedroom soon to be 4-bedroom home, (my favorite brother-in-law helped nd the home
and help build an extra bedroom from the garage) I was 11 at the time...more learned lessons.

This particular Brother-in-law (Number #5's husband) would prove to be an exceptional big
Brother/Father gure for me and my younger brother. We were no doubt closer to him than my
two elder blood brothers. Being an only child, he fell right in place with our family.

The front and back yards of our new home had extreme grass, weed and bush overgrowth, Guess
who was going help father with those deeds...not a question. Everyone pitched in. Yes, girls too.

My daddy watched his 11 yr old struggling to push an old 200lbs mechanical lawnmower over our
high weeds, sweating like a pig; (Do pigs sweat?) Anyway,  he saw my physical abilities as limited.
He knew by the look on my face, manual labor was not my stick. In my defense, I was 11 yrs. old.

He laughed out loud, (a rarity) and said “Boy, If you don’t stay in school and work hard, You will

have to do this kinda' work for the rest of your life"  I imagine he did harder work at age eleven

than this.

Lesson Learned - Scared Straight

I know there’s nothing wrong with manual work. I did a lot of hard work afterward, even though I

swore not to when I went to college. But I laid bricks, cut grass, unloaded 50lb. cement bags by

hand, I washed dishes at hotel banquets, sold my plasma, cross pick lines as a butcher, serving as a

bouncer, warehouse work, all while in college but those were my options if I wanted money.

There is a difference. I wanted choices. Football was hard labor enough.

Flashback - I remember my father would open his wallet and let me count his take-home pay on

paydays when I was about 8 years old... His pay was in the neighborhood of $115 per week at that

time, of my childhood.

As a math wiz, I knew it was not a lot of money. I was happy he was able to work his low budget for

all those years. He and my mother grocery shopped together every Friday. In that era, the bills

consisted of rent, food, car payment, insurance, lights. We were never hungry, nor utilities cut off.

I would have been lost implementing a budget 5 times more than what they dealt with.