Monday, November 29, 2010
Hello, WORLD!!! If you truly know me, then you know I pride myself on being a lot less emotional than other people. It’s true; I can’t remember the last time I cried over anything. This week, I don’t expect that to change, but it may still be a rough week for me. I don’t know how I didn’t realize this til this year but two of my parent’s anniversaries occur this week so both of my parents will be on my mind for different reasons. Both have passed away over the past 10 years, my moms in 2003 followed by my father at the beginning of 2008. But this post is about my Pa, celebrating him. Moms will have to take a back seat to him for a change (if she was here, she’d a read this and swiftly popped me upside the head!).
Anyway, I feel like the man I am today is definitely due more to my Moms than my father but his influence is felt regardless. Anthony Hardy has been part of my life every since I was young but I can’t say he was a father in that Heathcliff Huxtable sense because he wasn’t around like that. It wasn’t a nuclear family environment I was raised in, know what I mean? But he was very much a part of my life. I seen him at least once a month, which is more than a lot of kids these days or those days, for that matter, so I don’t feel bad. He was more of a father in a sense that he showed up right when I need him most. He was more of a father in the sense that he always told me the truth no matter what. He was more of a father in a sense that the things he did, like never forget my birthday or Christmas regardless if he had money or not, is what drives me to be a better father to my own children. He did a great job, considering I don’t think I’m a bad person, but he could have definitely done better, which is what I want to show him (whereever he is, I know he’s watching The Smokke Bizzee Show, LOL!). But I also know that while I never forgot he was my father, I always knew he was my friend. #Truth.
Anthony Hardy, or Red, because of his reddish-brown hair, as the people on Chicago’s Low End would call him, or Burger, for his love of a great burger (that I know is something I definitely inherited from him) as his family would call him, or Dirt, for his love of marijuana which was also inherited by… No,I can’t say that I inherited that from him. I can say I smoked my first joint ever with him at age 10 so that’s not inherited, that’s a 2 handed shove into the open arms of Mary Jane. I haven’t left her grip since. But, in his defense, it was my fault! I use to always smell that smell on him and I wanted to smell just like that and he finally got tired of me asking him what it was. “here, D, taste this and calm your ass down!”, lol! Shit, if I knew it made you feel as good as it smelled, I would have pushed this issue with him a lot harder.
There wasn’t nothing I couldn’t talk to him about. In fact, I never really knew what kinda of nut he was until I got older and actually let him talk instead of asking a million questions. I probably didn’t need to ask one and would probably still have everything I wanted to know answered. He never had to discipline me, although I am ashamed to admit we did have an altercation when I was grown. We quickly went back to being best friends after that. All of my friends loved him though. His wild stories would have everybody in stitches. The one area that usually turned him into something less than his jolly, normal self was my moms. He never got over how she broke up with him. That story I’ll probably save for 12/01, the anniversary of my mom’s passing back in ‘03.
I do feel guilty though. When my mom passed, I was barely there for her. I hadn’t even known she was in the hospital until I visited a girl who worked in the same building I worked in with my mom. At the time, I had just quit working there a year… I’ll finish this story on 12/01 too. But the thing is, when she passed I wasn’t there for her as much as I could have been and this woman had me from birth to 16. Dirt wasn’t exactly the best father in the WORLD, WORLD, but he was my father and I guess when he got diagnosed with cancer back in November 07, I was spending time with him to make up for both of my parents. And I still wasn’t there as much as I could have been. But I know he knows how I felt, how I feel. Love ya, Dirt, wherever you are now. Happy Birthday, Old Man. That’s what I started calling him when I was old enough to get away with it. That’s it for now WORLD. Be sure to catch my post Jeanette’s Song on 12/01/10 for more on both of them.