stinkydog

So, my sister wrote this on Facebook this morning:

Happy Birthday to the man who gave me my first beer, took me to my first BB King concert, and first Indy 500, who taught me how to shoot a gun, who calls his cell phone his 'mobile unit', who can't take a picture with his eyes open, and still calls me 'Kid'! MY DAD.

I would just like to add a few things:

1). Yes, he gave us our first beer, but I would like to point out, it was Pabst Blue Ribbon. I'm not sure that counts. He also used to give us Amaretto on vanilla ice cream--a flavor combo I still cannot think about without shuddering 30 years later.

2). He didn't just teach us how to shoot a gun. He taught us how to shoot a civil war era black powder rifle with a kickback that could dislocate a shoulder if you weren't careful. That's how we all developed a nice healthy fear of firearms.

3). In addition to BB King, we are all also familiar with the entire discography of one Hank Williams Jr. and I'm not just talking about Family Tradition or All My Rowdy Friends are Coming Over Tonight, I'm talking we can all still probably sing every word to Whiskey Bent and Hell Bound to this day. That comes in handy a lot more now that I live in Texas.

4) You forgot to mention that for most of our entire childhood, he shuttled us around in a 1956-57 era pickup named Penny that had a floorboard so holey you could see the asphalt moving beneath and a truckbed made of wooden planks. I am pretty sure I still have splinters.

5.) "Mobile Unit" HA! This is so true. "Hi, this is Pat Bell. You've reached my mobile unit" HEEE!

6) and finally, it took me flipping through 27 pictures til I found one with his eyes open and for this, I had to go back three years to my wedding. It's really uncanny. Dad, it's a camera flash, not an atom bomb. Open yer eyes for crissakes!


Happy B-day Old Guy!