You Will Say the Same Thing and Wish the Same Question is Asked of You One Day Bart - Mark My Words

How does this happen?

Simply statement, nothing that profound of thought generating in the least.

“Wow, what a head of hair that guy has?” That is was I often heard my dad say. I never thought that

my dad had emotions that would bring about a compliment to another guy, this was the guy that I only

saw cry maybe once. Where does this come from and how does it go from my dad’s head to his mouth

in such a complimenting jib.

“Really dad I respond back, really dad, you complimented a guy on his hair?”

Yeah, why the hell not, he had great hair, great full, head of hair.”

I repositioned myself on the 3 rd painting van in the long line of gauntlet of work trucks that my dad was

currently on.” I watched him as he put the cigarette, that I asked him not to smoke with a ‘Come on

mom and now you, leave me alone, let me smoke.” Simple ask of a simply man attempting to live

simply, I decided it was not the time and or place.”

As we went down the road, made a turn or two, he watched me move my hat from forward to reverse

as I did at times. “You don’t understand Bart, you don’t understand and that is okay.” My dad and me

continually having to out due each other in life understanding, because me being 16 or 17 at the time, I

knew effing everything and he was old news, old thinking, nothing that could be remotely relevant to

life and times I lead…of course not.

I looked back at him, my eyes just a touch closed like I was focusing on him as it would be better

understood due to this reaction. The akin to turning your head when you are turning in the corner, a

nothing gesture that means nothing actually, be that as it may,

“What do you mean by I don’t understand.”

I must tell you all that I really enjoyed getting my dad going, egging him on, just making him upset

because of what I thought and or said, but I did much of it on purpose as I was trying to find the man’s

boundaries and his limits on being well basically fucked with. He did the same with me, as I did with

him, twisted and nonsensical practice of mental acrobatics that we found ourselves engaging in.

“You don’t understand.”

He repeated, while juggling the simultaneous actions of chugging his coffee, as well as blowing the

smoke out the winglet window after asking him once again, “Do you really have to smoke?”

“You won’t get it till you get older.” Now he knows that whenever that was “UNTIL YOU GET OLDER”

really lit my fire under my tuchus. I looked back at him with a stare that I wish I could shoot fire from my

pupils into his I so desired in the back of my mind anyways.

“You have your hair, you have your brown thick hair and you have that going for you. But when you lose

it and you are going to, you will do the same!”

I was like “Comment on every guys hair that I see due to me not having any?”

Why would I do such a silly thing as this? What would make me want to do this?

He was like “You feel like you have too sometimes.” I was like what? Sometimes you just feel like you

must because you sense it, you want to, you have to acknowledge something that makes you envious.”

I sat back in the seat, the van reeking of cigarette, well you could not really the quality of the what my

dad was smoking, actual cigarettes, they were more like what he said “broom shavings.” I proceeded to

look out the window, while trading glances back and forth of my dad and being him, how he really

shared something with me that was deep and profound and not something to have argument over just

because I got my jollies doing it.

I blew it off as never would be me kind of thing, just like when I saw him go completely ape shit and

scream and yell so full of rage and ire, old man spittle coming out with a guy that cut us off going into

McDonalds one time. His road rage was so furious I ended up crying, he felt bad, but I saw him

differently after that, he could be a rage. In my mind, like father like son, nope that would never be me.

As time went on, yes it was me, unfortunately my fuse was as short as his, but I learned through life that

does not get you anywhere. But back to what I was saying, what would make me want to compliment a

guy on of all things his hair???????? Seriously what part of effed up does that occur

Fast forward about 15 years, and I don’t know I was with my now ex-wife and or not, I think we were

dating, I felt the urge to tell someone that they had great hair. It was a guy my age, but he had his hair,

there I was doing what I never at that time could fathom doing, but doing the same, nevertheless.

My ex looked at me and I looked back at her, the look on her face of frustration with her usual

disappointment aura that she must have definitely patented, no make that my ex-mother-in-law that is

where it arose from….okay must stop or get sued lol. “Where did that come from?”

I responded back as recalling what my dad told me “I just felt like I had too.”

Her always and never allowing things just be “What made you feel like you had to?”

My almost always rebuttal due to not knowing what I did not know now.

“I don’t know I just felt like it, leave me alone.” (if only hindsight was 20/20 as the old adage preaches

to us)

This brings up another time when my dad was completely insulted that he had to prove his age to

somebody.

He was somewhere and having a beer and he might have been with a date or something and someone

asked to see some id. My dad was full of piss and vinegar as it were after getting out of the service and

him now a world traveler in his mind.lol Korea = the world for in his mind =)

As I look back at it, not too far removed of how I have lived a lot of my 51 years almost 52.

He responded back in haste and with indignation with his military and drivers ID,

“See I am 21, right here, see both ID’s man!” He sat down in what he thought was the glory of his

declaration of what was just a simple question that truly required an equal simple response. My dad

had disgust on his face and with a satisfying shove of his chair to get back to the table, was feeling

justified in profound but justified and mostly reasonable actions.

The guy simply responded back,

“You are going to wish one of these days buddy, as you get older that someone will ask you your age.

Just you wait, your time will come, when you will want someone to ask you that question.”

Flashback to another week on the road when I worked as an Auditor. I was weary from a place I don’t

remember doing an audit that I don’t remember finding things…..well you get the drift, I went to go get

a 6 pack of beer. I was not and nor was ever a drinker, well minus college but that is a other stories all

together lol. Or many lol

I did have my hair, although each time I walked through the Detroit Express Airport’s ticketing and

security terminal I was noticing a definite growing bare spot. Be that as it may, I was still putting bio silk

on it because I thought no harm no foul kind of thing. At least it was still on my head and not grey that I

could see.

Back at the checkout, I grabbed the six pack, just thinking about when I can sit down and not worry

about having to leave anytime for at least a week, and I was about to give my id to the cashier. She

looked at me up and down, while not taking my ID and saying, “I know you are of age. I don’t need to

check your ID.”

I was pretty cocky back then and I was business traveler and I thought I had a persona of some kind of

what, I don’t know, of someone that maybe knows where they are going in life lol as ironic as that

sounds if you know me it was of course the complete opposite. As she refused to look at my id, I went

back to when my dad told me of his story.

“You are going to wish one day someone asked you how old you are.”

I got back into my car, a 95 Honda Prelude at the time, and I just put the 6 pack on the seat, glanced at

the rear-view mirror while touching the back of my head which I could really feel the scalp that I did not

know it was that getting that bare and thinking to myself I am getting old.

I was only 28 at that time, but I still remember that realization as it was yesterday,

“You are going to wish one day someone would ask your age.”

Yes, you are I thought to myself, yes indeed that will be the day……….so it came to pass.