I loved my Dad, But I Was Scared Shitless of Him...

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If you're anything like me, you loved your father growing up, but he scared the crap out of you too! When you're young, dads are bigger, stronger, and if you're smart, you try not to piss 'em off…

Under my dad's high school yearbook photo, it said, "He stride the earth like a mighty colossus." That, in and of itself, was enough to earn my respect and scare the crap out of me. Apparently, beginning in high school, my dad was a legitimate force of nature.

The scariest thing he ever said to me was, "Wipe that look off your face, or I'll wipe it off for you." I was just four years old when he said that for the first time, and I still remember thinking, "My dad's so tough, he can wipe the look off someone's face." I didn't think anyone else could do that, but my dad…

I had an incredible imagination as a kid, and still do, but after he said that, I began searching the faces of complete strangers, seeing if any of them had had the look on their faces wiped off. I figured the ones that did would look like zombies, right?

A lot of people roam the planet expressionless, but I didn't want that to be my fate. A lifetime without a look on your face is a scary thought. I did my best to behave around my dad…

I was always on my best behavior when we went fishing in Nantasket. My dad grew up in the area, and the frigid water temperatures didn't faze him in the least. He swam like a dolphin, it didn't matter how cold the water was. My dad owned his own boat long before he had his own car.

When I was a kid, my dad owned a 16' fiberglass boat with a 75 horsepower Evinrude outboard. It was a small boat, but you couldn't tell him that. We consistently went beyond the bay and into the ocean, where the swells would swallow us up like a tiny ant stuck in the jaws of a Venus flytrap. It was fuckin' scary, especially when, in an authoritative and unwavering voice, he'd say to me and my grandfather (Pup), "Make sure your lifejackets are on tight…" There were many times I figured we were gonna end up fish food, but he always maneuvered us out of danger, which I think he thoroughly enjoyed…

When we'd finally drop anchor, and it was time to fish, Pup and I would wait for my dad to bait our hooks, which were double leader type. Neither of us liked seaworms; to me, they looked a lot like Rotini in a red sauce, and the small carton they came in made it look like Chinese takeout. But once opened, the sea worms squirmed and tried to bite anything close to them with their pincer-like jaws that are very capable of piercing human skin. I would've been content using shiny lures or rubber worms, but according to my old-school dad, the fish liked live seaworms best. He didn't exactly say it, but the message was clear, "Don't be a pussy!" 

On one fishing trip, there was a school of flounder passing right under the boat, and as soon as Pup and I dropped our lines, we got hit and reeled in two fish each. This went on for a while until my dad got pissed, he wasn't getting a chance to do any fishing himself. That's when he yelled at me and Pup, "Drop your lines in the water, now it's my turn to go fishing!" I think Pup was a little intimidated by his grown son, and he winked and motioned for me to drop my line in the water like he was doing. My father yelled, "Four feet!" So, we dropped our lines four feet in the water, and then I grabbed a nice soft peach out of the Styrofoam cooler, which upon first bite, sent juice running down my chin, my neck, and onto the collar of my tee shirt. So fucking good!

It was always so hot in the boat, and at one point, my dad purchased a plain white canvas canopy that he fitted to it, but opening it was his decision and only his decision, you couldn't ask him to open it no matter how hot it was.

When I asked my father where I could take a leak, he'd say, "Jump in the water…" He would jump in, take a leak, swim around, and then climb back in the boat and tell us how refreshing it was. We constantly reeled in eels, sting rays, and snapping turtles; there was no fucking way I was jumping in. Finally, after holding it for an hour, he'd let me piss over the side…

So, while my dad was fishing, Pup and I sat and waited. Then, all of a sudden, my rod started to bend… I grabbed it and gave it a tug. "I think I got something!" My dad laughed, "You don't have anything. It's the current under the boat pulling on your line…" I gave it another tug, and I was sure I caught something. I put the peach down and started reeling in the line. Whatever it was, it felt a lot heavier than two flounders…

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Once it was near the surface, I could see that it was a pretty big fish. By that time, my dad was on it, and he helped me get my catch in the boat. It was a Mackerel, and a good size one too. Suddenly my dad was happy. I'd snagged a stray Mackerel that had lost its way, hooked him right under his gill as he swam by. It was the catch of the day and, for me, the catch of a lifetime. My dad eased up on me and Pup, and we ended up having a great day fishing on the boat.

At the end of the day, we'd kill the engine and coast into the ramp area. My father would get the car/boat trailer while I held a rope that was attached to the boat. I often wondered what he'd do if I lost my grip and the boat drifted back out into the bay… I held on for dear life. I'd float out to sea with that boat before I'd ever let go of that rope…

Once he had the cable attached to the hull, it was my job to guide it on the hourglass-shaped rubber rollers while he used the hand crank to pull the boat onto the trailer. When the boat would drift off a roller, he'd get pissed. It was never fun loading the boat but backing it into the garage was much worse…

When I was 14, we lived in Norwich, Connecticut, where the garage door opening was only six inches wider than the boat, and it took pinpoint accuracy to get it in without hitting the wood trim. My job was to stand in the garage, direct him, and jump from side to side so he could see me in whichever mirror he wanted. When the trailer fishtailed and he had to pull forward, he was pissed at me, and I felt his anger, which made me even more nervous. 

I was always so relieved when the boat was back in the garage, right where he wanted it, and the fishing trip was over.

One late afternoon, we returned from an all-day fishing trip, and all we had left to do was back the boat into the garage. I did what I always did, made sure he could see me while giving him exaggerated hand signals like an Aircraft Marshaller helping to land a plane. He was backing in nice 'n straight when all of a sudden, the trailer fishtailed, and the corner of the boat hit the garage, splintering the wood and scuffing the boat. I saw his face in a side view mirror, and he wasn't happy. It looked like he was finally gonna, "Wipe the look off my face…"

There was one way out, a door in the back of the garage, and I wasted little time turning and running out through it. I thought he was gonna kill me…

The girl on the left has an incredible voice, a real songbird. (wait for it)

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I didn't return home until after dark, and when I did, my mother asked me where I went. I told her, "I thought Dad was gonna kill me…"

My dad no longer looked angry, and he said he wasn't worried about it, we could fix the garage, which we did the following day. I think my mother stepped in… 

Later in life, after he became successful, he bought a large cabin cruiser he docked and stored at a yacht club in Fort Lee, New Jersey. He got his captain's license, as did my mother, and the two of them cruised the Hudson. By that time, we were barely speaking, but I was happy for him just the same. I knew how important boating was to him…

Looking back, now that my father's gone, they weren't bad memories, in fact, they've become precious memories. As parents, we're prone to making mistakes, and unfortunately, there aren't redo's or mulligans. I'm not sure my father realized that, and despite everything that happened between us, I still loved him… 

I'm not perfect, my dad wasn't perfect, and that's okay. It's a damn shame the two of us couldn't have come to that conclusion when he was alive. I would've liked one more fishing trip with him…

And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man in the moon
"When you coming home, son?" "I don't know when"
But we'll get together then, dad
We're gonna have a good time then…