Father's are good!

Loud mouth kid needs a Father to straighten him out...

I parked the car and walked on a sidewalk to one of my favorite markets and I heard a young  man..probably in his early teens yelling at two younger boys sitting on the curb.  I have no idea what it was about...but he kept it up getting louder.  

I finally yelled at him to take it someplace else   He paid no attention..gave me dirty look and continued his rant.

I tried again...louder this time.....but he still did it.

As I entered the store I ask if they had a security guy who could go out out and take care of this....after all it WAS disturbing other customers.

When that guy came he walked outside but heard nothing.  The creep had moved on.

Improper behavior at that age is bad news.  Think what he might do later...if someone doesn’t set him right.

This incident reminded me of a couple of times my Dad had to “rescue” me...by coming to my aid following screw up’s I did.

The first was when I was about 13 or 14 working as an usher at the main movie house in Effingham.  This was before my radio days began .

When it was late and the ticket office closed we could allow  people in if they still paid.  Occasionally I would just pocket the money but the manager tested me one night...or had a friend test me, so I got caught.  I told my Dad what happened and he went to see the manager...but nothing worked out.

This was the second time my Dad had come to my rescue.  I didn’t deserve it then as I made a mistake.

The first time was in the Boy Scouts.

I was in the eighth grade and on the first five of my school’s basketball team. The scoutmaster was tough..didn’t like scouts who missed a few meetings but I had to play in those games.  We traveled to other towns and did pretty good.

So he kicked me out of scouts.

Dad met with him and explained I wasn’t playing hooky I HAD to play the games. The coach, the team and even the students wanted that.  But...it was to no avail.

My Dad would be valiant coming to my aid.

Late in high school..when I was working at the radio station..I was also dating the girl who turned out to be my first wife,

Ruth was very pretty, blond and a year or so older than me.  But she lived in another town...about five miles or so...and I was driving a lot late at night...on old route 40...a very narrow and truck filled highway to get home. (way before the interstate system developed)

One night I was tired and came too close to a big  18- wheeler and we sideswiped.  Not much damage and I wasn’t hurt but I was shook up.

The truck driver said we had to report the incident so he wouldn’t lose his job.

We drove to the police station and I called my Dad.

You’re not gonna believe what happened.

After relating the details of the mishap to  my Dad, who was the top highway engineer in that part of Illinois...he pulled out a tape measure and proceeded to check the width of the truck.  

Surprise...it was TOO wide and illegal on route 40 there!

So now...instead of me being in trouble...the truck company could have been in really big trouble. Nothing ever happened...but Dad had a way of “fixing” things.

Dear ole Dad!

stanmajor@aol.com