Some things my father said:

Stop shuffling.  Pick up your feet.  You’re ruining your shoes–walk from your heels to the balls of your feet.

Stop kicking the back of my seat.  I’m trying to drive.

Shift!  Left foot clutch, right foot gas–Brake!

If you don’t know what you’re doing or why you’re doing it, don’t do it.

You need to learn tact.  Do you know what tact means?  Think before you speak.

Don’t say “um.”  You need to eliminate “um” from your vocabulary.

Go ask your mother.

(Don’t tell your mother.)

***

You need to get a checking account.  I don’t care what you think of banks–you need to live in the real world.

I have a system.  I play the same numbers every week.  Someday, I’d like the win the lottery.

“Oh, I wish I had a nickel, I wish I had a dime—I wish I had a pretty-little-girl to love me all the time!  Get along home, Cindy, Cindy.  Get along home, Cindy, Cindy.  Get along home, Cindy, Cindy.  I’m gonna marry you some day.”

(Don’t tell your mother.)

***

Why do you insist on wearing your hat backwards?  They make the bill for a reason–what are you, protecting your neck?  I thought that’s why you were growing your hair long.

You need to learn to respect other people’s property.

Close your mouth.

I think we can fix it with duct tape.

Sometimes you’re better off with your mouth shut.


Me and my father, after my doctoral hooding ceremony, December 2007.

Thanks for the lessons, Dad!  I didn’t know what I was doing, but I didn’t do it.  Here’s the duct tape.

I’ll go ask Mom.

Happy Father’s Day!

Published by Samuel Snoek-Brown

I write fiction and teach college writing and literature. I'm the author of the story collection There Is No Other Way to Worship Them, the novel Hagridden, and the flash fiction chapbooks Box Cutters and Where There Is Ruin.

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