Tag Archives: daughter

Daughter

Daughter: (n) a female child or person in relation to her parents.

 I think I spent more time studying daughters, even though I only had sons, than I might have if my children had been girls.

There is a tremendous responsibility for a man to understand a woman.

That’s why it is so sinister for the sarcastic theater and the socially stunted church to make relationships between men and women seem so unlikely and unfulfilling.

Six sons came through my house.

Three of them were my natural children and three were my godsons.

I immediately realized they were not getting adequate training on their relationships with the female gender by hanging out with friends, watching television or attending school.

For some reason, we are completely satisfied to make male and female conflict a part of our culture, holding gender equality at bay.

I don’t know what I would tell my daughters about boys. But I do know what I told my young gentlemen about women.

I explained that it’s set up perfectly.

I mean, the way a woman is constructed is ideal for interaction.

It is polite to start at the head and go to the toe.

In her head is a brain.

Get to know it. Study it. Have sympathy for the struggles. Help her ease out of her culture, where her upbringing was short-sighted, and allow her to do the same for you.

Next are the eyes.

How do they see? Is it a small world? A big world? Or a dangerous world?

The lips.

What does she speak? Do you easily discern her messages? Or are they too garbled and unclear due to her training? Help her find her voice.

How about those ears?

Women, like men, have not been instructed to listen. They envision a verbal conflict with the opposite sex, so they are prone to close off their hearing. Learn to hear each other.

A chin.

It’s easy nowadays to see that chin sink over the simplest of offenses. For some reason, depression has become synonymous with “deep thinking.” Foolishness. If a man loves a woman and a woman loves a man, they help each other keep that chin up, and eyes on the goals.

The heart.

Fortunately, it’s near the breast. I always told my boys to consider that the appreciation they have for the female breast is also expressed through a respect for her heart—her feelings.

As you can see, as you ease down from the top, love has a chance to grow. So by the time you get to the flesh and the sexuality, there’s a purpose for it.

On the other hand, if you start there, you will wade into emotions you don’t understand.

As for the legs and feet, they take her where she decides to go. She should have her own determination, based upon the joys of sex, which were enhanced by having an understanding of emotions in learning how to “face” one another.

I never had a daughter, but I probably would tell her much the same.

We are not as different from each other as advertised.

What keeps men and women apart is a calloused indifference—because we think we know everything.

Convertible

Convertible: (adj) having a folding top, as an automobile or pleasure boat.

One of the nicest things my father-in-law did before he decided he hated me was allowing me to drive his 1967 silver Corvette with a convertible top to the prom. He did this because I was taking his daughter, of course.

Matter of fact, I don’t remember him being that nervous about it. I think it’s because he had already decided not to like me, and figured if Ifunny wisdom on words that begin with a C brought the car back intact, what’s the harm? And if I was killed driving it, what’s the harm?

The day of the prom I had free use of the vehicle, preparing for the evening’s festivities. I took it out on the old 3-C Highway, on a stretch of road that was pretty deserted, and for the first time in my life, I drove a hundred miles an hour.

I suppose I should tell you it was invigorating, and I felt like a real man, but actually, it scared the shit out of me. I had the top down, and it happened to be one of those days in the Buckeye State when the sun was willing to shine without regret.

By nightfall, as I put on my tuxedo for the ball, I had sprouted a huge sunburn. A normal person would have been upset about this, but I was young, foolish and still engaged in the craft of stupidity. I thought I looked cool. I thought when you compiled my tuxedo plus the Corvette plus my sunburn, which I declared to be a tan, that I had a slight (ever-so-slight) resemblance to James Bond.

Yet, after picking up his daughter and going to the prom, I discovered that everybody spent the evening deeply concerned about my scorching. And even to this day, you can look in our class yearbook and see a picture of me with huge dark-red cheeks.

It turns out, I was not James Bond. Instead, I was his younger dopey brother, Dirwood, who had not yet discovered the wisdom of sunblock.


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Berate

Berate (v): to scold or criticize someone angrily.

Dictionary B

My wife’s parents didn’t like me.

They had good reason.

I lied, cheated, misinformed and did a bunch of crap which forced them into the role of being critical defenders of their daughter.

Yet I had the excuse of being intoxicated by adolescence. They were supposed to be mature and understand my weakness, but instead, berated me, telling me I would never be anything of quality.

Being very young, I felt it was my duty to verbally attack them also, leaving a chasm of misunderstanding, which I believed would be taken care of over time. I thought that once their daughter and I were married and had children, matters would miraculously transpire to turn us into a family, laughingly remembering former days of conflict.

It never happened.

Matter of fact, I can recite several events in my life when I was berated–or was the berator of others myself–where those relationships have never healed, but have instead settled into an uncomfortable silence of unacceptability.

We are civil.

I suppose there are even moments of kindness.

But the grudge that is still carried leaves both parties breathless, if not hopeless.

So what I have learned with each passing birthday is that the less I confront those around me, the greater the possibility of maintaining the warmth of fellowship.

I suppose we should be a race that is forgiving, gentle and free of resentment.

We are not.

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Beetle

Beetle: (n) an insect of an order distinguished by forewingsDictionary B

It’s a language which I have affectionately, but sarcastically, dubbed “Marjorian.”

It was named in honor of a woman I once knew named Marjory.

Marjory had developed a way of speaking in which she would address any problem that ended up falling in her front yard with very gentle language, while summarizing the actions of others she did not like with more sinister terms.

Let me give you an example.

When Marjory’s daughter became pregnant in high school, she insisted they had planned on having the young girl marry her beau, but the pavilion they wanted to use was not available, so normally the pregnancy would have fallen after the marriage, but preceded it only because of a scheduling conflict.

Yet when the young girl next door found herself with an unwanted pregnancy at age seventeen, Marjory whispered to the neighbors that “the lass was a tramp” and that such declining morals were ruining our country.

She spoke Marjorian–a language generous to oneself while condemning to others.

I bring this up because one day I was sitting in Marjory’s home and a bug crawled across the floor. Instinctively I leaped to my feet and crushed it with my foot. I knew the insect to be a roach. When I identified the bug to Marjory, she immediately disagreed and said, “No, no. That’s a beetle.”

Apparently it was completely respectable to have a beetle crawl across your floor but not a roach.

Being in a playful mood, I picked up the remains of the bug and carried it over to Marjory, causing her to launch into a hissy fit.

I put it toward her face, showing her that this bug had no wings, and was therefore not a beetle.

Without missing a beat, Marjory countered by saying that “it was a Japanese beetle. They don’t have wings.”

I immediately realized that Marjory had no idea of the flight habits of the Japanese beetle. But it was not worth arguing about, so I tossed the carcass into the garbage can, finished my conversation and coffee and was on my way.

I have met many people who have their own dialect of “Marjorian” language, but it always amazes me that after all the claims are made, all the exaggerations espoused and all the false belief preached, that somehow or another… the truth still has a way of winning the day.

 

 

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A-list

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

A-list: (n) a real or imaginary list of the most celebrated or sought-after individuals, especially in show business.

Fats Waller, Fatty Arbuckle and Fats Domino.

All three of these tubby individuals were once on the A-list of our society. Who knows them now?

You see, that’s the problem with any kind of list which promotes popularity. It is linked to the attention span of the American public, which is shrinking at a similar rate to the polar ice cap.

It got me thinking.

Who would be on the A-list of all time? In other words, what individuals who have lived since the foundation of historical documentation would be of intrigue to us (or especially me)?

Because even though Clark Gable was certainly a common household name in the 1930’s, it is rather doubtful that your nine-year-old daughter today would have any idea who he is. So who would my six-year-old, fourteen-year-old, thirty-year-old son, and eighty-five-year-old grandma know in common and consider to be part of the all-star A-list?

It’s really funny.

I only came up with two, Is that weird?

There were an immense number of choices, but I only have a pair of names I would consider to be on the A-list of all time. I am sure you will laugh at me and come up with many on your own, but I would question whether your selections would endure a three-fold test:

  1. Does the recognition cross generations?
  2. Does the contribution to the world remain lasting?
  3. If they were alive today, would they make a similar impact that they did in their own time?

You see? Kind of tricky.

So long story short, on my A-list of all time:

Jesus and Abraham Lincoln.