“The beginning of wisdom, as they say. When you’re seventeen you know everything. When you’re twenty-seven if you still know everything you’re still seventeen.”
Lazy mornings are the best way to start the day. I read my two papers, drank a fresh cup of coffee with each paper and ate a couple of pieces of Scali bread toast. The coffee, from Uganda, a new roast for me, was delicious.
I didn’t wake to eye-blinding sunshine this morning. The day is dark, a turn on your light to see in the daytime dark, and rain is predicted. I guess this is what we get after a beautiful, warm spring day like yesterday. It was 63˚. I’m okay with this on again-off again weather switch. Give me some more days like yesterday, and I’ll abide the rain.
My dad was a yeller, but by the time we were four or five we had perfected the art of ignoring him while looking interested and concerned at the same time. He didn’t expect anything, just us nodding our heads. We could do that. He’d warn us not to repeat the infraction whatever it was, and we were then free to leave or were send to our rooms depending upon the seriousness of what had irked my father. I always liked being sent to my room. It gave me some privacy and some peace. I’d nap or read, two of my favorites ways to while away the time.
I never learned to keep quiet, a surprise I’m sure. When I got older, into my teens, I always had an answer. To me the answers were funny and clever. To my dad they were me talking back, being sassy and questioning his authority. He was actually right. I figured I was in trouble anyway and there was a limit on what he could do so why not keep going, get a bit of satisfaction by driving my dad crazy. My brother and I used to have a friendly competition on which of us could drive my father the craziest.
When we were older, we were usually grounded, the ultimate teenage punishment, a forced imprisonment in our own homes, but mine never lasted long. My father always relented after a couple of hours. I knew he would as my mother had taught me to accept my punishment quietly without my characteristic witty retort. She told me just to let him rant and soon enough he’d be done, and I’d be freed. She was right. I always sat in my room waiting for him to come to give me the lecture. I always looked chagrined. I was good at that.
Explore posts in the same categories: MusingsTags: 63˚, coffee from Uganda, grounded, lazy mornings, newspapers, rain, sass, scali toast, sent to my room, talking back, yelling
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April 14, 2015 at 2:05 pm
Cold and rainy here today and I think I saw a snowflake or two as well. No wind though so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.
I’ve paid a lot for my big mouth 🙂 I’ve never been able to stop myself in time I’m afraid 🙂 but it did give some satisfaction to be able to answer in a way that made whom ever it was speachless 🙂
In my old work place we could get extra pay if we were nice and I never got an extra penny for that, bosses really don’t like people who can talk for them selves 🙂
I never saw being sent to my room as a punishment since I then was left alone and really could do what ever I liked to, like reading. I wonder if anyone actually have seen that as a punishment 🙂
Have a great day!
Christer.
April 14, 2015 at 4:00 pm
Christer,
Still no rain here though we are still dark and cloudy. That’s awful-seeing even a single snowflake.
It does give some satisfaction but digs a deeper hole. My father was never happy when I had an answer.
I think bosses want to be the boss so they shut down employees. Being nice is part of any job when dealing with the public. I can understand that though I might not likes it all that much if the customer is rude.
I felt the same way about being sent to my room. It was fun to be alone and have time to myself.
Have a great evening!
April 14, 2015 at 2:52 pm
Hi Kat,
Early morning dog walk was in a light rain. The next walk was just cloudy and a bit cool. The third walk was mostly sunny. Now it’s cloudy and a bit cool again. It’s definitely a back and forth kind of day.
I never got grounded for anything. I got whacked for things when I was kid but never after I got to junior high. Just yelled at. They knew that I would rather be in my room anyway so it was no punishment to send me there.
Enjoy the day.
April 14, 2015 at 4:02 pm
Hi Caryn,
No rain yet here which surprises me. I thought it would have rained earlier today as the clouds were so dark. We haven’t had any sun yet, and I don’t think we will.
I got whacked when I was little but then yelling took center stage. My dad never did get I loved being sent to my room.
Have a great evening!
April 14, 2015 at 8:47 pm
When I misbehaved as a little kid my father would take off his belt and chase me around the house. He rarely caught me and just gave up because my mother would intervene. Corporal punishment didn’t work then or now. My spouse is the yeller and tells my kids that she’s not playing. However, both my kids have figured out she really is just playing. My now 18 year old son is using your technique to drive me crazy and doesn’t listen but just wags his tongue continually. I now just ignore him or just nod in agreement. He’s reached the age where he is telling me that he’s amazed I have lived this long and can be so stupid. There’s something to be said for childless couples.
Cloudy and cool weather but no rain yet. Maybe tomorrow.
April 14, 2015 at 9:02 pm
Bob,
We drove my father crazy. The veins on his neck would pop, and my brother, a year younger than I, and I argued who was better at him vein out as we called it.
Even though he yelled, we knew my father would give in at some point. My mother would punish us, and we’d laugh as she was really was easy. When she caught us laughing, she started using her slipper. She’d toss it at us then tell us to bring it back. We always just took off on her. It never made her happy.
18 year olds know everything. This Twain quote is perfect,”When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years. ”
Cool weather is good!
April 14, 2015 at 11:01 pm
My mother also threw shoes. We learned to duck. 🙂
April 15, 2015 at 11:41 am
Bob,
This made me chuckle.Iy is nice we were young and had good reflexes!
April 14, 2015 at 11:59 pm
My dad was quiet, my mother a screamer and thrower… often plates (we kept a large supply). One time she threw a freshly-roasted chicken at me (or my father), which missed us but sailed past my grandfather in the back parlor. He looked up from his Wall Street Journal and said dourly, “I didn’t know the damn things could fly.” We all broke up laughing and settled down to a nice chicken dinner.
First golf of the season yesterday. Maybe this monster winter will finally end?
My annual homage to April 15th, “Taxman” by the Beatles. When George Harrison wrote this in 1966, the British Labour Government (Harold Wilson) had just raised the top income tax rate to 95%. Yow! “If 5% will seem to small, be thankful I don’t take it all.”
April 15, 2015 at 11:41 am
Jay,
We are all lucky that one parent was easy going while the other was a screamer. I usually went to my mother for stuff as she usually said yes. I remember telling my dad I was going into the Peace Corp and going to Africa, and he went ballistic and forbade me to go. As if…My mother said nothing but she was scared she told me much later.
I filed mine last week and am getting a paltry sum back. I suppose it is better than paying.