I have learned many life lessons from watching my father live his life. Sometimes, he seems to live in a completely alternate reality from the rest of us mortals, which really gives me reason to contemplate what I would have done differently from a mere human’s perspective. I wanted to share some of the lessons I've learned so far. Just a handful...I don't want to give away all of the sources of my sage advice.
My father keeps cheese in his pockets. It’s just a thing he does now. It started on a ferry while we were on our European vacation from hell, where I was able to film him shoving a napkin full of hard cheeses into his windbreaker. Thinking no one noticed him, he looked up, saw me filming him, and quickly turned away—like he was getting away with something sinister.
This happened a subsequent time, just a couple of weeks back, when I was at the Australian Pink Floyd concert with him. This was a sit-down venue, with both my father and I sitting next to each other. I look over and notice him scrounging around in his jacket pocket. I was half ready to yell-whisper, “Dad, I don’t think we can smoke weed in here,” but I wanted to see how this played out. Lo—a sharp cheddar, Babybel cheese comes to the forefront. He offers it up to me, like how I imagine an offering is made to a chipmunk. I stare at the cheese, then back at him, and simply say, "So this is what you do now? Pocket cheese?” He simply shrugged and continued to unravel the cheese. He had two cheeses that were brought to this concert, and he thoroughly enjoyed them both.
The key takeaway here is not to care what others think of you. Enjoy your life, and carry cheese on you if you want to.
When I was a child, my family decided to go on a camping trip during the summer, like you do. We had a small speeder boat at the time, one of those boats you tend to see collecting rot and mildew in someone's yard. Ours was in fine shape, just old, but did the job required of it: carry a family of 4 across the water without sinking.
My father wanted to go across the river to this hidden gem we now nickname "Mosquito Island" for various reasons that would require another story. Camping with my mom was an event in and of itself. She packed like we were going away for an extended amount of time to practice living outdoors, possibly never to return. This made traveling by boat to the other side of the river a bit of a challenge. I forgot to mention that we also had a canoe on this trip. Anyway, being an ingenious person with an IQ of over 155, my father took it upon himself to solve this travel problem by placing all of our heavier belongings into the canoe and tying it behind the speeder boat. Even after much disagreement provided by my mother, my father said, “It’s going to be fine," as we slowly motored down the river, immediately losing all of our camping gear and food into the very deep river.
Lesson to learn: Follow your gut. But if your significant other is throwing arguments for 13 minutes as to why something might not work...take this into heavy consideration before doing anything with your gut in the driver’s seat.
My dad has told me the story of "How I Met Your Mother" no less than 5 times, and each time he tells it, it sounds like something out of a 1990s rom-com. They were both at a bar one night, and my mother happened to be with a group of friends as they were celebrating something or other (possibly her birthday? You'd think I'd remember by now…). He walked over to my mom and introduced himself to her, and she politely stated, "I'm married…" Well, my dad, not one to give up, says the three words that make anyone question themselves and their life choices: "Are you happy?" To which she shook her head.
Well, they both went their separate ways that night, but not without him providing his contact information. My mother took it upon herself to call my father and tell him that she was getting divorced, and he should meet her at this local bar (Fir Valley Inn if anyone is that local or interested), to which my father immediately stopped everything he was doing. He hung the phone up, stopped frying his bologna for the sandwich he was about to make, and drove to the bar. The rest is history, albeit it did have a not-so-great ending 20 years later; I still like to think of this moment when I'm put in a scenario where I must choose between one thing or the other…what would Dad have done when he was frying his bologna?
The life lesson here is: Damn the situation you're currently in. You can change it if you want; just keep going for it and make your choice. You can always come back to your bologna sandwich. Also, always fry the bologna.
Being young and desperate to get out of his parents' grip, but being raised in a very religious household made my father's choices on careers next to non-existent. Either you become a preacher, and we help, or you don't, and we won't. So, being the smart lad he was and not giving a flying bird about religion, my dad was a youth pastor for a bit in his late teens and early twenties. That is until he discovered how to make prison wine from Welch's Grape Juice. I have also heard this story told multiple times, and it tends to change a bit detail-wise, like when it occurred, how long he was actually a youth minister, and other insignificant factors. However, it's still a fun story.
After taking a decent cup or two of this intoxicating grape juice, my father drove his super beetle to the church where he was supposed to be delivering a sermon to the young folk (or something like this); he states he got up to the pulpit, was about to speak, and instead decided, "Eh, religion isn't fun. I'm going to vomit on this podium instead." He then just walked out of the building like nothing happened, drove his bug into the fence at the church, and never went back…to either that church or religion.
What I got from this was: Stick to your guns. If you don't want to do something, don't feel forced into it, and quit when you want to. No one's going to live your life but you. Also, don't drink and drive into a church fence—or any fence.
My father has lived a very full and interesting life. I guess I am lucky to be around, to have learned anything from it, and to have the ears and brain to comprehend and read between the lines when he tells me these stories. Since most of his stories are about outlandish things like stealing married women and throwing up on a pulpit, they can seem unrelatable. But once you really listen to the story, you feel like you've just listened to a great philosopher—like Søren Kierkegaard (a Danish guy you probably don't know about). Anyhow, I guess I should thank my pops for being so weird. Thanks, and thanks for having me, I think.
Hannah One Cup can be found online on Facebook by her name or on TikTok via @thursdaynight_depression.
