November 10, 2009
I decided to check my progress on my road back to normal living by checking Wikipedia for information on the stages of grief. According to the first and only page I clicked on, the stages of grief are: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Those seem like no fun at all, plus I can’t figure out which one eating cake every day falls under.
The only stage on that list I’ve experienced so far is denial. I’m beginning to think that these stages may not fit my situation. To the best of my knowledge, after denial I experienced: cake eating, telling inappropriate stories, getting a haircut and finally singing out loud while driving.
I think I’d like to stick with these stages because they seem like more fun than anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Can someone please update the wiki accordingly?
November 9, 2009
Over the weekend my wife and I took care of an important piece of business by getting back to our regular weekly chat show on Saturday. This was the first time we had done one since my father’s passing so we dedicated the show to him and spent the whole time telling stories and celebrating the time we had together. It was hard for me to get though but when it was done I felt pretty good. Just like my father the show was funny, sentimental and sometimes filthy; if you missed it or would like to see it again it is archived here.
Thanks to everyone who watched and participated in this on Saturday. I meant a lot to me and I’m sure my dad would have appreciated it too.
While I’m still adjusting to a world that my dad is not a part of I am doing my best to get on with things. I looked at the calendar this morning and wondered where the last four weeks had gone. There is so much to do before the end of the year and I’m not sure where to start. Between now and December 31 I need to:
1- Eat Less – Apparently mourning leads to overeating. I spent the first 9 months of this year getting into better shape and the last month undoing a lot of that hard work. The sooner I stop stuffing my face in the name of grief the better.
2- Stop Prefacing Stories About My Dad With “When My Dad Was Alive” – It’s probably understood that when I tell a story about something my father and I did, it happened when he was still alive. In the event my father comes back as a vampire and we go fishing I’ll specify that he was undead when it happened. Until then assume that all stories about us took place while he was alive.
3- Go On My Honeymoon – I got married to this girl in May 2007 and three days later we were on our way back home and getting back to work. The plan was to go on a honeymoon the next year but financial issues made that hard to do so we put it off. We felt we were able to do it this year and planned to take a week off to get away in December. While my father’s passing has thrown a monkey wrench into our plans we are still going to get away to San Francisco for a few days after Thanksgiving. It’s not a tropical island and we’re not getting away as long as we had hoped for but we’ll be together and we’ll see a lot of friends. We’ll be in San Francisco 11/30 -12/3 if you’ll be there, let us know.
There’s more to do of course, like writing more, saving money and learning to dance, but this is a start. The business of living has begun again.
November 7, 2009
If you’re keeping score at home today marks a very important anniversary in my life. Do you know what it is? If you guessed it’s the day I first saw a big dog and a little dog walking together (I love that) you are wrong but today is just as important. Three years ago, on this day, I met Nina for the very first time. It was not a date and she made it clear she had no intention of dating me but I wrote this the next day:
I met the Slackmistress last night. I’m not sure that I can describe her in a way that does her justice, because she’s just delightful. For a while I have read her site and been aware of her through the internet but that doesn’t come close to painting the picture. Imagine for a second that you’re a kid again and it’s a holiday. In the morning you see a big present with your name on it but you can’t open it until it gets dark so you wait all day and wonder what it could be. Well if when you open the present it’s everything you wanted and more, your present would be the Slackmistress.
We got married six months later. That’s something to celebrate.
Also, Nina and I are bringing back BetheMarriage tonight at a special time to celebrate my dad’s life with an hour (or more) of toasts and tales like these.
Join us at 6pm PST (that’s 9pm Eastern)tonight for BetheMarriage: Remembering Dad of Boy. It will be fun, we promise.
November 6, 2009
Since my father’s passing I’ve been honoring his memory by telling some of my favorite stories about him. You can read more of them by clicking the “BetheBoy Dad Stories” link below.
One of the first memories of my dad is from 1979. I was five years old and we we’re living in a basement apartment. I’m not sure how it happened but one Saturday night he and I were home alone watching TV. My memory tells me we were watching The Uncle Floyd Show but I can’t be certain. I do know for sure that we were eating peanuts and throwing the shells onto the tile floor. I was worried my mother would get mad if she saw the mess so I asked my dad who was going to clean up the shells. He said: “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything”.
Thirty years after tossing peanut shells on the floor my father and I were sitting in a bar tossing back a few beers. After discussing the Mets for a while I tell my him that there’s something serious bothering me. After hearing me out my dad simply said: “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything”.
Thanks dad, as long as you were around I always felt like everything was taken care of. I’ll do my best to take it from here now that you’re gone.
After this weekend I’ll be backing off of the dad stories for a little bit. Not because I’ve run out of things to say but simply because it’s time to get back to the business of living. Thank you for reading.
The Reminder to See Us on Saturday
Prior to all of this death business my wife and I did a regular weekly live chat show on Saturday nights. For reasons you can certainly understand we haven’t been able to do the show for the past few weeks but we will be coming back this Saturday November 7th to honor my dad with a special show.
For this week only we’ll be going on the air at a special early time to allow my east coast family and friends to watch. You can watch here starting at 6 PM Pacific time (9 PM Eastern time) on Saturday night. We’ll see you on Saturday night.
November 5, 2009
The Big Question
In case my father ever shows up as a ghost and tells me I can ask one question but it has to be about a specific day we spent together in the late 90’s, remind me not to waste my question asking any of these things:
Why we had to be at a bar at by 9 AM?
How he got us such great seats for the Jets game?
Who paid for the van that drove us to the stadium?
Did I do something specific to cause me to lose several hours of time in the afternoon?
Why the girl we were drinking with after the game, the one who was closer to my age than to his, seemed to know him so well?
Why the same girl was under the impression my father was once married to a woman from Chile?
Why that same girl thought my father married the Chilean woman after my mother had passed away?
Why would anyone think my mother had passed away?
The reason he didn’t hit me back outside?
I wouldn’t ask any of these questions because the answers don’t matter anymore. Besides, he didn’t ask me why, some months later, I was at that girl’s apartment when he called (I’m aware that this is completely screwed up). These things are all water under the crazy bridge now. The only question I would ask is why didn’t we hang out like that more often?
The Reminder to See Us on Saturday
Prior to all of this death business my wife and I did a regular weekly live chat show on Saturday nights. For reasons you can certainly understand we haven’t been able to do the show for the past few weeks but we will be coming back this Saturday November 7th to honor my dad with a special show.
For this week only we’ll be going on the air at a special early time to allow my east coast family and friends to watch. You can watch here starting at 6 PM Pacific time (9 PM Eastern time) on Saturday night. We’ll see you on Saturday night.
November 5, 2009
My brother Mike, my father and me.
Today is my brother Mike’s birthday, he is awesome in evey way. The photo above was taken about two years ago, the last time the three of us were together. While my brother was cooking dinner I mentioned to him that I thought that dad was mellowing as he was getting older. My brother disagreed, explaining that before I had arrived for dinner the two of them had been in a bar fight.
When I was around six years old and my brother was four we’d get up before dawn on Saturday mornings and watch the test pattern on the TV in our footie pajamas until cartoons came on. We called the test pattern the Boo Show because we’d try to replicate the tone by standing in front of the TV saying Booooooo! until we couldn’t breathe. Eventually Davey and Goliath would come on and by that time we’d be be hungry from all the Boooooooooing we had been doing so we’d eat what we considered a healthy breakfast of a stick of butter with ketchup. In retrospect, that was pretty gross. Luckily we stopped doing this shortly afterward.
When I still lived in New York my brother once showed up from out of state unexpectedly and said:
Long time no see, I got a court date so I’m in town for a few days.
-OK, well what do you want to do?
Lets go get some drinks.
-It’s 10 am.
I know, we’re getting a late start.
We spent most of that day drinking gin and tonics with a break for tequila mixed with Tabasco sauce. At the end of the day I laid down in my car to sleep it off and he said “see you later”. Later didn’t happen for nine years but when I saw him again he said:
Remember getting up to watch the Boo Show and Davey and Goliath?
- Yes, you got any butter?
Yeah but not the right pajamas.
Happy Birthday Mike, I’ll see you soon.
November 4, 2009
1- Taking beer into the shower
2- Giving everyone a nickname
3- Hiding behind a tough exterior
4- Hanging with guys who look like Hunter S. Thompson (as shown below)
(L. to R. My father, me and a neighbor who was not actually Hunter S. Thompson)
November 4, 2009
Since my father’s passing I’ve been honoring his memory by telling some of my favorite stories about him. Here’s one from a long, long time ago. You can read more of them by clicking the “BetheBoy Dad Stories” link below.
In case you ever find yourself spending the holidays with my family you better be ready to make a list. It was made very clear years ago that we’d get what we wanted but nobody was going to read our minds. Those who don’t make it clear what they want do so at their own risk because as a family we have little concept of what constitutes an acceptable gift. In my family it has always been perfectly acceptable to give food as gifts. When I say food I don’t mean gift baskets like Hickory Farms products, I’m talking about things like a can of olives, spaghetti, some pepperoni, and maybe gum.
Now you might think that groceries make an awful gift but if you do, you’re missing out. The food giving tradition has been going on for decades but my father turned it into something of a holiday art form. You see, as my brother, sister and I got older we asked for fewer things; one year, after wrapping up all of the gifts dad felt it just didn’t look like enough, and so he improvised, by calling upon a family tradition. That Christmas morning we found what looked to be a Christmas miracle, we had only asked for a few things but there were stacks upon stacks of presents waiting for us.
Despite being at or close to adulthood we all pounced on the piles like little kids, shaking the packages and wondering what could be inside. I went first, opening that first one slowly and great with anticipation, much to my father’s amusement. I’m pretty sure it was a box of Jell-o mix inside of a bigger box, and everyone laughed until the started unwrapping cans of vegetables and boxes of crackers. Eventually we got to the real presents but we we’re still laughing over the fake ones. Over the years the fake gift became my father’s holiday tradition. Each year he worked new items into the mix…and every year we laughed about it like it was the first time.
So, each year since I’ve moved away, when I’m asked if there’s something I want I don’t ask for a thing. This means I’m likely to be sitting by the Christmas tree with the a jar of peanut butter and some canned peaches, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Note: This story first appeared here back in 2007 and a few days after I posted it a package appeared at my door. It was from my father and it is pictured below:
November 4, 2009
Since my father’s passing I’ve been honoring his memory by telling some of my favorite stories about him. Here’s one from a long, long time ago. You can read more of them by clicking the “BetheBoy Dad Stories” link below.
When I was a kid I had a best friend who could whatever the hell he wanted. If there was homework he didn’t have to do it. When the other kids went to bed he stayed up. He had all the best toys and never had to clean his room. He was the coolest kid ever and I should know because I made him up all by myself. His name, was Carpo and I swore that he went to school with me. I’m not sure where I got the name Carpo but it was probably derived from Harpo Marx, but wherever the name came from Carpo was my best buddy all through kindergarten and into first grade.
The town I lived in at that time was split in two by a canal. I lived on the east side while my imaginary friend and his fake family occupied a space over on the west side. Exactly where they lived was unclear since I had no knowledge of the west side, being unable to cross the street without an adult and unable to swim the canal. Despite the lack of hard facts my parents listened with patience as I explained the many wild adventure I had at school with Carpo, that is until I rebelled against bedtime and homework on the grounds that what my friend did I also did. After several days of negotiating my dad became frustrated and demanded we get in the car and drive to the Carpo house to confront his unfit parents and set things straight. My mom tells me she tried to talk him out of this but a few minutes later we were driving around the west side while I sat helplessly as my dad pointed to each house asking if it was the one. Finally we went home, I did my homework, went to bed and never mentioned Carpo again.
November 3, 2009
Early on a summer morning many years ago I was ejected from a less than reputable motel with no money or transportation. This was not the first or last time I’d find myself broke and stranded at a sleazy location but it is the only time I was in that situation wearing a tuxedo and with a date. I started heading for a pay phone with some idea of making collect calls until someone agreed to come get me when I found my salvation right in front of me; heading towards a familiar car in the parking lot…was my dad. He dropped my date at her house and then drove me home. He didn’t ask me any questions and I didn’t feel like I was in a position to demand answers. We never spoke of it again but I’m sure that my dad had just as good an explanation as I did.
Click the “Betheboy Dad Stories” link below for more stories (most of them are nice, not sleazy).
