Some People Need to Quit Resisting and Write
My Bad-Ass Dad
Some people get published without even trying. I’m thinking about my dad. About fifteen years ago, he took a fiction writing class at the University of Washington’s Extension program. His teacher asked if she could send his story, “Peep Show,” to the editor of Literal Latte. My dad agreed, and it was published. It was about a guy who cleans out the booths in a strip club.
“Peep Show” was hilarious and brilliant and today I’m cursing my dad for not writing. He’s a genius, one of the funniest people to ever live, in addition to being wise, insightful, compassionate, and sensitive. I cry easily, a trait I got from him. He is super tough, has a swagger, listens to rap, and teaches gang members in the Seattle Public Schools, but he is not afraid to tear up in public.
My dad has been on hiatus from writing since he started teaching high school. And I know what he is doing is important. His students love him and have ridiculously high graduation rates. He teaches students who are not welcome in the regular schools. I just hope that someday my dad will write again and share his hundreds of crazy stories, which he can fictionalize or not. Either way, they will bring readers to dark places and make them laugh there.
One story, a tame one, is about how my dad and this other guy were hired to demolish a house in Magnolia, a pretty neighborhood near Discovery Park in Seattle. They leveled the wrong house. One of the most amazing stories about my dad is how he quit heroin. He was reading Deuteronomy 30:19, “I have set before you life and death…choose life, so that you and your children may live.” I like to think that my sisters Shereetha, Althea, and Elise, and my brothers Damon and Cameron, and I helped inspire him to get sober. He chose life, in part, so that we could also have some.
I wish I could tell his stories, but I can’t. No one can tell them like he does. Should I try to bully him into writing? Or just accept that his funny stories will be kept from the laugh-starved, crying-in-the-darkness masses?
I definitely think you should encourage him to write. Not only do his stories sound interesting, but they would be something for you and the rest of your family to have of your father forever. (Not that he’s going anywhere any time soon. I just always think about that stuff.) I have a similar experience. My whole family is fairly strange and interesting, but my mother and I are the only writers, and she only writes fiction. That leaves it up to me to find ways to tell our family’s crazy stories. A lot of pressure.
Yes, the pressure! It seems like crazy stories ought to be told.
I think there’s a fine line between encouraging and, as you say,
bullying, and I don’t think the bullying will do anything good but make everyone feel a kind of vague guilt. He’ll write if and when he wants to. And you can maybe say something “encouraging” every 19.3 months or so that might provide a little push.
Sam! I’m so glad you take me seriously as a bully. You’re right, though, of course. I definitely don’t want to use guilt as a tool. I thought maybe this blog post would be a simple way to give him a “little push” by showing him how valuable his stories are to me. Now I’ll be quiet about it for another 19.3 months or so. Eventually he’ll retire and then he might have the desire to write again.
i want to steal the story about tearing down the wrong house. that’s awesome.
but could you really bully him into writing? He doesn’t sound all that bullyable, which i mean as a compliment.
I could bully my dad about as well as I could bully you. He’s unbullyable. I think it’s a compliment, too. I’m thinking about asking him if I can take some of his stories, but I think you can have dibs in the wrong house one.
While I agree that her father doesn’t seem bullyable, I bet Shira would make a good bully. Especially if she had a mallet or some sort of bullying equipment (frying pan, an angry ferret, etc.)
I can picture her standing there, saying something like: Real nice brain you got there, wouldn’t want anything to happen to it…
You’re right that it’s brains that are our most prized possessions!
And that I’m mad feisty.
Shawn, my dad says the house story is all yours.
I love Dad and his photo! If we (his children) are the reason for his sobriety, he’s the reason I am Woman, I am Strong, I am Responsible and MOST IMPORTANT I am LOVED! :)
Great Story!! – Thanks for sharing
Sheree! It is so nice to see you here. Thanks for visiting and singing Dad’s praises.
I can think of one story right away that he needs to tell. I’d love to share the wackiness here, but I’m a little shaky on my statute of limitations law.
There were so many stories I wanted to give as examples, but I worried about overstepping boundaries. I am curious which story you have in mind.
We’ll talk.
Thanks for the really lovely portrait of dad. He’s an original, a bad ass, and one of the most truly compassionate people I know. I think he is in tune with his path and though a little encouragement is a form of homage a lot of encouragement–well it just might go a long way.
Dad’s funny; he told me the blog post was bullying enough and that maybe when he doesn’t have to work he’ll write again. In the meantime, I think I get to borrow some story ideas from his backlog. I’ll change them enough to respect privacy, though.
Wonderful post Shira! Now I know where you get your swagger from. :-)
I’m not sure you can bully your dad into writing, but why not write a memoir where some of your dad’s stories are included but is about how he and his stories influenced who you are today?
I love your idea, Asa. And I’m not just saying that because I always do. I really like the idea of rolling a memoir around in my head about how my dad and his stories have affected me. Thank you.