Means he got his azz kicked 2xs for ever lil thing he did
When you became a man, did you have to fight them both to prove ************ comes a time in all lads youth , the big Dad fight.
I remember.........
Absolutely not, bro. If I can find it, a long time ago I wrote an article for a magazine about Daddies. Be back in a while.
OK, I now arrive in my brand-new "awhile". Found the old article:
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Arcane Things My Daddy Taught Me
© Walt C. Snedeker
Daddies are magical. And here is one of the little measurements of life: If you still refer to him as your Daddy in your adultery, then he gets the prize.
Now, don't get me wrong; if he's "Pop", "Father", "Dad", or the like, there's no problem, there's nothing wrong. It's just that the magic isn't there anymore. Remember: It
used to be "Daddy", right?
In order for a Daddy to be magical, he must have a few special characteristics. He must know the answer to every question you could ever think of. And he must be able to show you and tell you and make things for you that nobody else in the world knows anything about.
Like spool tanks. One snowy day, when there was no way to go outdoors, Daddy built a spool tank for me. I was just a tweeny kid, bored silly. It, and its cousins fascinated me for hours.
A spool tank requires a spool from Mom's sewing kit (in our house, the spool
had to be empty), a thumbtack, kitchen match, and a slice of an old candle with the wick bored out.
Oh, and a rubber band. You pushed the rubber band through the hole in the spool, slid a busted piece of kitchen match through the end loop of the rubber band, and used the thumbtack like a doorstop to make it so the kitchen match wouldn't spin.
Then, on the other end of the spool, you worked the rubber band through the disk of candle. As soon as you slipped the cannon (some people might call it the ink tube from a ballpoint pen) through the end loop sticking through the candle disk, you were ready to wind 'er up!
About twenty or thirty turns later, you placed the spool tank on the floor, and it would slowly trundle across the room, scaring the bejeebers out of the cat. Every now and then the cannon would tilt, simulating firing. Magical.
None of the other kids in the neighborhood had a spool tank until
I showed them how to make one.
Daddy didn't stop there by any means. I would be walking along in the woods with him, idly watching him with his pocketknife and a small piece of wild cherry branch, and he suddenly would hand me a slip-whistle made from that branch.
Here's how he did it: It seems that wild cherry bark can be removed intact from its branch. So he'd loosen it, but before he removed it, he'd cut a "window" that resembled the shape of a steamboat whistle in the bark.
Then he'd take the tube of bark off, put it in his shirt pocket, and cut away some wood.
When he slipped the tube back on and handed it to me, my magical Daddy would have produced a multi-toned whistle from
nowhere!
He made pinwheel boomerangs from the yardsticks that hardware stores used to give away. Daddy would cut the yardstick at exactly the 18-inch line, and drill a small hole in the middle of the two remaining pieces. Then, holding the pieces tightly together, he'd use his grinder as a power-sander, and bevel one edge of each.
A small 5” long screw-and-nut combination through the holes, and the X-shaped boomerang would be ready for me to fling. It would come back and you could grab it out of the air by the screw “handle”. Magical.
Daddy taught me how to make whip-darts, slingshots, and ceiling walkers (talk about scaring the cat -- ceiling walkers made him disintegrate).
And he taught me how to catch a squirrel with just a boy's penknife. And how to "tickle" trout. (It was a monumental day when I caught a trout with my bare fingers while a guy with a jillion dollars worth of gear stood there watching -- and troutless!)
Needless to say, these and a bunch more things like them were passed on to
my boys.
And, yes... although they are grown and gone, they still call me "Daddy".
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