Teardrop Fiction

Things that don't fit anywhere else...

Postby Cliffmeister2000 » Wed Jul 21, 2010 5:22 pm

The Story Begins...

Papa was what I grew up calling my Dad. Papa was 40 when I was born, and he was a lot older than my friends’ dads. Things have changed quite a bit since then, and lots of 40 something’s now have newborns or toddlers, or both running around.

Papa grew up hard in a time when hard was normal. His mama died of tuberculosis when he was nine, and he was the middle child of seven. He and his older sister stayed with their Dad. The two oldest were about ready to get on with life, so they just did. The youngest was born just before Grandma died, and the medicine they treated her with had damaged his little mind and body, so he went to a home to live out his days. If he is still alive, I imagine he’s still there. My Aunt Mary, the oldest girl child, took Uncle Mike and raised him up herself, along with her own two sons. Funny thing about Papa’s family, they all went by their middle names. Elmer, the one just younger than Papa, got raised somehow, but not at home, and became a Baptist preacher on a reservation.

All the family stories say Grandpa loved Grandma with all he had, and missed her terribly when she was gone. That didn’t stop him from marrying seven more times before he gave up. Papa blames all his troubles on one or another of those four or so step moms he had while still at home. Finally, at seventeen, Papa lied about his age and joined the Navy. Having been born and raised in Southeastern Montana, I’m kinda surprised he knew there was a Navy, but there was and he did and that’s how he got to California. That’s how he came to be in a USO dance hall in Long Beach where he met Mom. And that’s where the story begins…
God Bless

Cliff

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Postby Miriam C. » Wed Jul 21, 2010 6:59 pm

:applause: 8) Seven times! ! Heck yeah it caused trouble. :?
“Forgiveness means giving up all hope for a better past.â€
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Postby Tumbleweed_Tex » Thu Jul 22, 2010 6:53 am

*bangs coffee mug on the desk in a steady rhythm*

More...more...more...more...
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Postby Cliffmeister2000 » Thu Jul 22, 2010 7:33 am

PAPA QUITS

As I’ve said before, Papa was a hard man. He drank, smoked, and fought all the time. I have two older brothers and two older sisters, the closest to me being seven years my senior. Papa quit drinking when I was ten, and by then all the others had moved out. I guess I had a different Papa than they did, ‘cause he never hit me, and yet I remember him hitting my older brother with both fists so hard I thought he was gonna die. The worst part of that was; it was my fault. But that’s another story.

Papa was working in a liquor store, and in those days in that town, folks would come to the liquor store to cash their checks, buy their beer, whiskey or whatever, and cigarettes. I remember going in there with my friends, and if Papa was at just the right stage of drunkenness, we could get whatever we wanted for free. One particular day, Papa opened the store, and counted his till, and came up $10,000 short. Because he had worked the night before and closed, he knew it had to be his fault. He was afraid he was going to go to jail. He called Mom, who worked for the same company since before I was born until she retired when I was in my early twenties. She agreed to borrow the money from the Credit Union, but only if Papa would go to AA and quit drinking. He hastily agreed.

With the thought of having to quit drinking hanging over his head, Papa decided he’d better have his “Eye Openerâ€
God Bless

Cliff

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Postby Tumbleweed_Tex » Thu Jul 22, 2010 7:50 am

:applause: :applause: :applause:

*stares silently into the campfire and slowly nods his head, remembering his OWN alcoholic father*
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Postby Cliffmeister2000 » Thu Jul 22, 2010 8:08 am

HUCK FINN, JUNIOR AND ME

I went over to Junior’s house one day, ‘cause I was bored and he usually was, too. I figured we’d find something to do. As I got there, Junior was jumping on his bike and heading out for parts unknown.

“Where you goin’?â€
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Cliff

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Postby Cliffmeister2000 » Thu Jul 22, 2010 8:37 am

WORKING WITH PAPA


When I was just six years old, we moved to a two bedroom, 900 square foot house with one tiny bathroom. The living room was furnished with a wood framed couch which Mama called a “sofaâ€
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Postby alffink » Thu Jul 22, 2010 9:00 am

Hey Cliff

I remember "Farmer John" bacon and sausage, still going strong
and that was a great mural, idyllic is a good word for it, seeing as that was the location of their slaughter house, ya knew you were getting close, blocks away

:lol:
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Postby Cliffmeister2000 » Thu Jul 22, 2010 9:13 am

alffink wrote:Hey Cliff

I remember "Farmer John" bacon and sausage, still going strong
and that was a great mural, idyllic is a good word for it, seeing as that was the location of their slaughter house, ya knew you were getting close, blocks away

:lol:



Yup. I was young and ignorant then. Now I know it is a rare pig that ever even sees a meadow! :lol:
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Postby High Desert » Thu Jul 22, 2010 10:27 am

Cliff - :applause: :applause: :applause: :applause:
Shaun

"it's not the years honey, it's the mileage"
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Postby Cliffmeister2000 » Thu Jul 22, 2010 10:35 am

High Desert wrote:Cliff - :applause: :applause: :applause: :applause:


Thank you, Shaun,

And thanks, Tex, for starting this awesome thread!
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Cliff

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Postby steve smoot » Thu Jul 22, 2010 11:03 am

Cliff, you are gettin' pretty good at this too... :thumbsup:
I am not a complete idiot, some parts are missing...
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Postby Cliffmeister2000 » Thu Jul 22, 2010 11:16 am

JUST LIKE THE OLD NEIGHBORHOOD

My wife and I were driving around the other day, and found ourselves in a modest neighborhood of small homes, old cars, and the occasional neglected house with 2 cars on the side on blocks. Gina is amazed at these neighborhoods. One in five homes has somebody living there that takes the best care they can of the place. 3 out of 5 might have renters, and they could care less, it seems, what the place looks like. That fifth home, the one with the cars in the back or on the side, that’s the house I grew up in. We lived in that little 900 square foot house for six years. Until Gina and I bought the one we are in now, that’s the longest I ever lived anywhere. There were two English Fords in the back yard that Papa planned to fix up someday. There was a wall of dirt that went up to the house behind us. The wall was on our property, and so it pretty much cut our backyard in half. The yard was scattered with junk and papers and such. I was six, and didn’t care a lick about what the backyard looked like. I guess nobody else did, either, except the lady next door. She’d come out and point at the litter with her cane and say, “Why don’t you pick that up? It looks like a bunch of pigs live there.â€
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Cliff

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Postby queeniejeanne » Thu Jul 22, 2010 12:35 pm

Cliffmeister2000 wrote:

That didn’t stop him from marrying seven more times before he gave up.


DJAYH's grandfather, having been married 4 times, thought the last at 93 was a problem.........so he got a circumcision. :R :R :R :R
Do I have something to look forward to ????

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Postby Ratkity » Thu Jul 22, 2010 12:46 pm

:applause: :applause: :applause:

Wonderful!!!

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