Forgive Me Father, For I Have Sinned

But give me a bit longer, believe it or not — I might just win.

I didn’t grow up poor, we just didn’t have the shit I saw on commercials and yearned for, knowing it was out of our reach financially. Rarely did I ask, and I don’t recall being the kid who threw tantrums in public when he didn’t get his way or the thing he asked for, when and if I did.

Good childhood though, the way I remember it anyhow.

I mean, it probably wasn’t average, standard, or prototypical — but that’s what I loved about it. I never needed it to be any of those things, never wanted ‘em.

As mild-mannered, loving, empathetic, and supportive as my Dad was — when it came to me especially— I think I still knew better than to even consider embarrassing him in public, by causing a scene when we were out and about. Didn’t matter if it was around friends, family members, or Joe Jerkoff down the street.

To have me acting like a spoiled little shit in front of our neighbors and whatnot, was always an unspoken but well understood and respected no-fly zone with my old man. And I thank the Gods for as much, on the daily. Without respect for other people, those who deserve it and earn it especially, what do we have?