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TITLE (EDIT)
The Man I Call My Dad |
DESCRIPTION
A story about my dad that I wrote for a class. It tells about him.
[979 words] |
AUTHOR
Justin M Chapman |
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
17 years old never published anything.
[January 2004] |
The Man I Call My Dad
Justin M Chapman
As I walk down the dark stairs at night, I see the man I call my dad. He sits there in his big blue recliner, asleep. He’s holding his favorite drink, Sundrop only in a glass bottle. He has the T.V. on, with the football game playing, sleeping, just sleeping.
My dad, Ken, is one of the smartest people that I know. He is a hard person to understand once in a while though. One minute he is in a very good mood, laughing at almost anything. The next minute he is rambling on about something that is so stupid. He is the kind of person who doesn’t like to be disturbed or annoyed.
My dad has a very weird sense of humor that could drive anybody crazy. I can always tell what type of mood he is in when he gets home from work right away, because of how he comes in the door. When it’s a bad day he just walks in slowly and doesn’t say much. But when it’s a good, day he’ll walk in like he’s up to something, walking in bull legged or pigeon toed. At supper time he always has a funny work story to tell about. He is the big prankster at work, he picks on everybody and everybody picks on him.
Ken also has a weird addiction to Sundrop. It’s not just any ordinary Sundrop. He has to have the Sundrop that comes out of a clear green glass bottle. He makes drives up to Shawano just to get this stuff. He usually buys six to eight cases of this stuff. He likes the taste better than that of the can, I would have to agree with him on that though, you can taste a bit of a difference. He tells me that when he was a kid that was the only soda that he drank. My dad also has an obsession with wearing hats. He has half a closet floor filled with all different hats. He has hats that are red, black, white, blue, any color you want. His hats range from anything Packer hats, Hartford hats, even a hat that has his initials on it. He has a f,avorite hat though that my mom and my sister hate. This hat it’s a hat like the train conductor wears, with the little blue and gray stripes on it. I don’t think there is a day that goes by that my dad isn’t wearing a hat. Even when he is sleeping in the chair downstairs, he is wearing his beloved little hats.
I remember a time when we went to my grandma’s house for a Christmas party. He was wearing a hat with a tie and suit coat. I though my mom was going to kill him. She says, “What are you doing”
My dad says, “What?” with that stupid silly little smirk on his face.
“You are wearing a hat and a tie!” my mom screams at him.
“Yeah so!” he says like a little kid.
After a while my mom gave up, but you could tell she was disgusted with him. She hates it when my dad gets his way and she looses.
My dad is the same way though. He is the most competitive person that I know. Ever since I was a little kid playing baseball or football he would get on my case about trying harder. He would take my brother and my sister and I out on to the front lawn and work with us, practicing to make us better. He would push me hard because he was always the little guy and never was good enough. Ever since I can remember, he has been coaching me. If he wasn’t on the sidelines of that particular game, he would give you tips and tell you what you did wrong all the way home. At times it seemed he was being to tough on me and my siblings, but now I realize it he was just trying to make us better in every way.
My dad also thinks that he is only thirty years old, and can still be the fastest guy on the field. He has a track record at his old high school. The only reason that is, is because they stopped having track when he was done with school. I remember a time this last summer when him and I were playing softball, and he was on first. A person on our team hit the ball to the outfield, so my dad thought that he was still young and he tried to take third. Well, it turns out he isn’t as fast as what he used to be, so he was thrown out at third by almost four steps. I always remind him of that when he thinks he is better than me.
My father is the hardest working man that I know. He has always been that way. He will put everything that he has in him to get the job done. I can remember as a little kid watching him throw hay bales around. I was amazed by his strength. He would be up in the haymow just sweating and sweating saying, “We can’t stop until all of the hay is off.” But now I can wrestle him to the ground, so I don’t think he is as strong anymore but he still has the heart and determination of a fighter and a champion.
I don’t know where I would be without my dad, but I know that I wouldn’t be where I am today with out him. He is my idol and the one that I have looked up to ever since I was a little kid. He is a fighter and a champion. He makes me laugh and makes me better. This is the man that I call, Dad.
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"Hey Justin, great story! I just happened to do a search on the internet for SunDrop in Wisconsin, and I came upon your story...great job! He's not the only one with that addiction to SunDrop! See you around, your cousin, Josh Mayhew" -- Josh Mayhew, Milwaukee, WI, USA.
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2004 Justin M Chapman |
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
January 2004 |
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
2217
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