Once A Dog...

Even before he was diagnosed pre-Alzheimer’s, my father never had an internal editor to filter out the things he shouldn’t say. If you had a question, but didn’t want an honest answer, my father was not the one to ask.
     He was more than blunt, he was brutally blunt.
     Another thing he was, especially in his younger days before he was married, was a hound dog. If you’ve ever heard the song Nosy Joe by Bull Moose Jackson, it pretty much tells the story of my father’s bachelor years.

     I remember once going with my father to look at a truck he saw advertised in the Classifieds section of the newspaper. He was going to go alone, but my mother made him take me along.
     He pulled up to the house. We both got off, and he knocked on the door. A very attractive lady greeted us, and then went inside to get her husband.
      When the man came outside, my father was already checking out the truck, which was parked in the driveway with a For Sale sign taped to the inside of the rear window.
     “So,” the man said, “are you thinking about buying my truck?”
     “No,” my father told him, “I’m just looking at your truck. What I’m thinking about is your wife.”
 
 

Raising My Father

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