Even it up with memories of my Father.

It's been a rough couple of days.  I've been reading about Kermit Gosnell and trying to repress it as soon as I can.  That blog will be later.  Some issues at home, so I'm going to do a lighter post.

My father used to buy and sell Indian artifacts; jewelry, leather work, kachinas (see an explanation here), and whatever else he thought could sell.  He would go to the reservations and buy the product then go up to Yankee land (New York state) to sell it.  One time he was in Buffalo, NY and the city official noticed that he a pistol with him.  Then, as well as now, firearms were a major no-no.  This gentleman also sees a buffalo head bolo tie (look here) and mentions that he could probably get a state issued permit for the pistol, if only he could afford that buffalo bolo tie.  Trade a piece of jewelry (that I can get more of) for a permit and avoid maybe going to jail.  In my father's own words:  "I ain't no dummy."  When the official came back the next day with the permit, before he left (wearing a very nice bolo) he mentioned how it would be terrible to see another one of these ties on anyone else.  Still better than going to jail.

When we forced my father to retire he got a little bored at home and planted a garden.  Enter my wife, she wanted a garden in our backyard but was too cheap to rent a tiller, so she started researching other types of gardening.  She settled on aquaponics (see here).  When my father started researching this he went a little crazy.  Next thing I know he's getting a permit from the city to build a greenhouse.  A 20'x25' greenhouse.  It had four tanks for fish, a dozen grow beds, and a rainwater tank to top it off with.  He had a tomato plant in that thing that was 10' tall.  Two other tomato plants that were over 9' tall and a group of  four bush bean plants that were throwing beans like crazy.  The spinach and herbs grew like you wouldn't believe.  The Swiss chard was annoying because I don't like it.  When you went through the door you almost had to fight your way through the foliage.  He was so proud of that.

My father HATED guineas.  He hated them so much that when his mother told him to go out and kill a guinea for dinner that night, he killed the whole flock.  Her response was pretty simple:  "Clean them all."

One year I had a dancer crashing on my couch and I knew she didn't have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving.  I told my father that she didn't have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving and could I bring her to the family dinner.  Without any hesitation at all he replied with "I would think less of you if didn't".


My father always believed in all of his children.  I mentioned once how I wouldn't mind getting into politics and his reaction was "Do it".  Everyone else said "You work in a topless bar, you'll never get votes."  He would probably yell at me for not going for it.