Page 38 - Exotic | September 2024

I have learned many life lessons from watch- ing my father live his life. Sometimes, he seems to live in a completely alternate re- ality from the rest of us mortals, which re- ally 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.
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.
motored down the river, immediately losing
all of our camping gear and food into the very deep river.
Pocket-Cheese Man
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 vaca- tion 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-whis- per, “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
What I imagine camping might be if we had a tent
There Goes Our Tent Stakes and the Steaks
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 col- lecting 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 “Mos- quito 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 ex- tended 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 men- tion 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 be- hind the speeder boat. Even after much dis- agreement provided by my mother, my fa- ther said, “It’s going to be fine,” as we slowly
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.
The Ol’“Are You Happy?” Line
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 ev- erything he was doing. He hung the phone up, stopped frying his bologna for the sand- wich 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 bo- logna.
Almost a Preacher Until I Wasn’t
Being young and desperate to get out of his parents’ grip, but being raised in a very re-
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