The Blues

The Fire Chief that Roared

On August 27, 2011, in Birthday, Family, by Rosie

The day after Dad turned 80, a lady I don’t know all that well came up to me in the supermarket and said ‘gee, your dad looks amazing for his age!’

Being the type of person who will switch any conversation around so that it involves me, I answered: ’Yes, he does. It runs in the family, doncha think?’

Without drawing a breath or even thinking, the woman replied, ‘no. It’s just he looks fantastic for 80. I couldn’t believe it when someone told me.’

Sighing, and gritting my teeth about the price of bananas per kilo, I countered, ‘He was such an older father when he had me. About fifty-two, actually …’

Still nothing. Lady wot I don’t know really well wasn’t remotely interested in me and my age issues, she was all about the bloke who had his birthday yesterday. This unusual fella:

dad and lea, round 1959

There’s a lot of urban legend going round about this metrosexual octogenarian. Some of it is truth, some based on myth, rumour, innuendo. Much of it has been exaggerated by the man himself in the hope of attracting as much attention as possible. Well, on the day after his 80th, it’s time to defunk(y) the bunk:

♣ When Dad was very young, he and his brother closest in age (there are 7 sibbos) would push each other on a billycart round the backyard. That was a nice, brotherly thing to do, except they often grabbed a massive pitchfork, held it to the front, and yelled CHARGE! They proceeded to try and stab their least fave sisters of the time as they attempted to visit the outdoor toilet.

♠ It’s true that when Dad was Father of the Bride for the first time in his life, he spent an hour and a half in the bathroom grooming himself before the momentous occasion of traipsing down the aisle. It’s a pity the rest of the family (his wife – mother of the bride – his 5 daughters – including the bride herself, and his son) had to share the ONE bathroom in the house after his ablutions.

♥ Dad holds the current world record for responding to each and every dare set by his grandchildren. Once, he fit 8 chocolates in his mouth at once without swallowing or gasping for air. Another time, he ate a hot mustard sandwich, and on yet another occasion, allowed himself to be lifted aloft by a grandchild. Most recently, he was able to fit 5 Ferrero Rocher chocies into that same GOB before being halted by a wary granddaughter who worried about random nuts catching in his aged throat. Mum was (and is always) disgusted. We think she’s actually jealous.

♦ With skin like a freaking freak of softness, it’s said that Dad is the cleanest man in existence today. Studies are to be done on whether his pores hold any atmospheric particles whatsoever.

♣ It’s rumoured too, that Dad may well be the vainest (non-celebrity) male on the face of the earth. NO ONE is allowed to see him without clothing (not even an anticipated member of the emergency service when he had a small turn) as ambulance staff wouldn’t be used to nudity. He is rarely seen without a full shave (face only) is always pressed to within an inch of his life and NEVER smells unattractive in a public place. Probably in a non-public place for that matter.

♦ As a young firefighter, Dad ran through a building engulfed in flames without breathing apparatus (twas the 50s) and a massive spider fell from the burning rafters onto the back of his neck, just where his collar met his skin. It was on fire. It screamed. Not Dad, but the arachnid of doom.

♥ I’ve never believed the screaming bit, even when I was very young. (I sort of did).

♠ Dad is an avid i-App Store visitor. He believes there should be an App for everything. Perhaps one day he can sit his iPad on the front lawn and have it mow it for him? Nah, it still wouldn’t do a good enough job!

♦ It’s true that Dad abhors swearing or cussing. In my 28 years (remember, he fathered me at 52) I’ve not heard him say anything worse than ‘bitch’ or ‘bloody’. It’s lucky that none of his *&^% kids #@! swear, isn’t it? He doesn’t enjoy watching HBO adult-type shows, either. Unlike Mum, he will look away during explicit scenes or foul language and he has been known to leave the room if offended. His wife, however, cannot drag her eyes away.

♥ Dad washes his car after every outing. He has made his grandchildren sit with their heads hanging out the window if there’s a tummy ache in sight (like puppies, with their tongues flailing) and is believed to fanboy his car more than anything else. Except his iPad.

♠ It’s accurate to say that there is only one way to hang out washing (Dad’s way) and that he has been caught wearing a peg-pinny type thing round his waist (image a checkered half-apron full of pegs) while hanging out washing with the breeze in his hair. Washing must be turned every couple of hours in the hope that each item of clothes is evenly aired.

♣ He once let his youngest daughter cut his hair. It was not so long ago. It’s enough to say that it will never happen again and it was so unflattering, that Mum had him hidden for two weeks so no one would see him ‘near bald’.

Happy 80th birthday, old man. Thanks for mellowing over the years and for saying the hard things that have needed to be said. I often think about what constitutes a ‘good man’, a good person, because after a very rough start, it’s what I am attempting to achieve on this weird, sporadic road. (Not to be a good man, coz hey? I tried, LOL)

You say some really odd things sometimes, and we’ve certainly butted heads over the years (the anger, the impatience, the similarity between us) but the thing that I admire the most (and what Mum touched on recently) is your willingness to stay. You’re always there, whenever there’s something on. The opening of an envelope, the happy times, the worst moments in our lives … you’re there. And you’ve never shirked the responsibility. Ever.

Presence counts for more than mere presents, and your steadfastness blows away any notion of fatherly tokenism. For this, Dad, we say thank you. The ties you’ve forged strengthen us for whatever lies ahead. Happy Birthday, you funny fella.