Yeah he was a strict disciplinarian when required but he raised me right and bought me a copy of Mein Kampf when I was 13. I organized a group of other people at our church and we would promote right wing ideology and then I started doing it at school and when I was suspended and he had to come pick me up I was terrified but after he spoke to the principal he left with me and in the truck he told me he was proud of me. I'll never forget that.
I then spent the next few days helping around the farm and in spare time reading, listening to Coast to Coast AM at night and shooting my rifles at soda cans during the day.
One day he even let me shoot one of his pistols he kept from his stepfather. A Luger he had inherited that was my bestefars sidearm. My mother cherishes it now and wants to be buried with it.
I wanted it but she deserves it. Plus it has a swastika engraving which would make it illegal in some places and all of jewurope. I wrote a poem about it to leave with her if she approves, it goes in the coffin with her.
Those are some good memories. Yeah when we're kids we don't like when our father whips our ass all up and down the house but we sure are thankful for that corporal punishment when we're older. Taught us respect and right and wrong.
Exactly. I was more afraid of him than the police. He was my law and order and I feared ever disappointing him.
About a week before he passed he told me he was proud of me and loved me. It felt strange but comforting. Then he passed. It's like he knew what was coming even though he was only 58.
Your Pop wasn't that old. My Pop is just shy of 80 and while I don't see him that much I try to text him and send him pictures throughout the week. Because one day I'm going to press send and there won't be a "cool pic, LD dad" with a :-) as a response.
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