I DO wonder

This, this is my dad:

he's a pretty cool guy, but he's grown accustomed to being not a topic of the blog, while laughing at everyone else.  According to most, I tend to take after him.  Apparently, I have my mother's eyes...my behavior, however, tends to be all Buddy  (according to my rebel mother).

It really is his fault I'm a liberal ass and a feminist.  He won't admit it, but I DID get him to stop giving money to the NRA.  After he convinced me to stop being a vegetarian.

See, when that man up there was in charge of the children, he drove out into the middle of the dessert, kind of like in the movie "Casino", and you  just weren't quite sure if you'd ever come back.  He always bought a six pack of beer and you got a red Fanta and a burrito, and if you were lucky, he stopped to fish before "The Doors" on 8-track got through the whole album.  Then, he set up his pole, set you free, and he napped.  AND, despite fishing your ass off, he always got the biggest fish..which made me think beer was the trick.  That, or he was a total dick for stealing a panther martin and making his kids worm squirm the lawn for bait.

While our mother convinced us the wind would take us away and a rattlesnake lurked behind EVERY sagebrush, just waiting to send you to the painful depths of death, dad was always, "This is my spot." Like, "Find your f*king own!"
 
Honest to god, it was the only time I ever felt free.  There he was, watching the river...telling us, "Its a big river...find a hole."  And he let us be.

Its probably good Tammy wasn't there.  She has enough Blattner in her to freak out at the thought of anything even remotely close to involving danger (those women DEFINED hysteria).  She used to tell us there were alligators in the canal to keep us out of it, then wondered why we went to look. 

See, Buddy is a redneck version of a hippie.  He gets hauled to court, and the judge deals out the punishment..."Cut your hair!" 

Sunday drives were ALL the rage back then.  Smoked oysters and some easy cheese.  Drive over the mountain.

We usually went over Champagne Creek, where Dad and my brother could get a shit-ton of rattlesnakes and I would lock myself in the car.  There is still a pine tree growing near the summit.

I told Buddy, "That is an awesome Christmas tree!"

He looked at it, looked me right in the eye, and said, "THOSE trees, growing all alone, they have spirits looking over them.  Don't screw with it. Silver crows."  I didn't get it until Oliver Stone did that movie.

Then, he wonders why I hug trees.

Here is an adventure with Buddy:

"Gloria Steinem is evil...but take after her."

" I NEVER said trees have spirits!"

"The Nuge!"

"I voted for Nixon..to end the war."

and best of all:
"how did YOU get so radical??"

hmmm...I wonder