A dear friend showed me this in February, and there’s something about it that keeps bringing me back over and over again.
stories and why I like ‘em.
I like listening. But that’s a recent development, I mean not that I don’t like talking. I can talk and ramble loads. But some people just have great stories, and to think I have never heard them before, well that’s neat!
This revelation all occurred when my dad and I went to pick up my little brother tonight, I offered to pick Jordan up but apparently between tangibly having the address and mapquest helping fill the remaining gaps..my dad STILL didn’t trust me to actually find the house. Apparently 2012 has yet to convince him that I’m directionally savvy :( :( :(
That was a tangent. My dad has a wealth of stories. Most of the people he tells about I would have loved to meet. Like his Uncle Jim, who moved to Omaha and came to the Lord and decided to spend the rest of his life living at the Open Door Mission and who was ALSO one of Johnny Cash’s drummers for a time. My life would be charmed if I could have met that man.
And my dad’s little cousin, David. This story gets to me. Apparently David was a troublemaker (in all of his six years!) and was an only child. He would go with his mom to a high end clothing shop and find a way up to the high balcony of the store and then proceed to jump into large piles of clothing; ridiculously admirable. Oh yeah! and David lived right next to a golf course and each night after all the golf enthusiasts left, he would gather all the golf balls and sell them back to the golfers the following morning. Those were my two favorite things about him. Well anyway, my Dad got all teary eyed when he got to the next part. So David was walking the family dog to the mailbox one day when the pet ran off to a nearby lake. David, being the little adventurer that he seemed to be, followed him. When the dog jumped into the lake, David followed, expect not executing as graceful a entrance as the dog. Hitting his head on the dock, he ended up drowning. There was mail floating on the water when he was found. His parents never got over his death, according to my dad.
These are just two stories that my dad has. If I went into the typical ones that he told, i could go on for so many hours. And then I’d be doing all the talking, and listening’s the fun part.
This post is ridiculously long; and I’m pretty sure there are two words that need to be hyphenated somewhere and that really bothers me, but i’m lazy so…
Thanks for reading, and for realz if you have a touching story or two, (I like tears) you should fill me in sometime. Also, listen to your parents when they tell you stories (even if you’ve heard them so many times), it means the world to them.
