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I realized something the other day. There are three moments in every guy’s life, three rites of passage if you will, that make him think he’s officially a man. The first time he sees a naked woman. The first time he drinks a beer. And the first time he walks into a strip club. Now … Continue reading 3 Dollars And A G-String →

I was a senior in high school and had already developed what would become a lifelong condition:A mouth that rarely consulted my brain.By that point, most of my teachers knew exactly what they were getting when I walked through the door. I wasn’t mean. I wasn’t violent. I just had a running commentary on life, … Continue reading My Mouth, Mr. Miller, and Dad →

Growing up, my mom and her friends always made a big deal about my hair. “Oh my gosh, it’s so thick.”“I just love those curls.”“It’s beautiful.” Which is interesting, because what they called curly, I called unruly. My hair has never grown in a polite, cooperative way. It grows like wildfire with poor supervision. Not in a … Continue reading Dad vs The Wild Bushman of Borneo →

There were only a few times in my life when I saw Dad cry in front of me. Not misty-eyed.Not choked up.Actually cry. Once was when Lyle passed.Once was when our family dog died.And once was the day my dad found out he had cancer. That’s it.Three times. Three Times Which is impressive, when you … Continue reading Twinkie Breath →

I don’t know that Dad ever wanted to be famous. We never talked about it. But looking back, he sure did love an audience. And maybe those two things aren’t the same. If there was a microphone nearby, Dad had a way of finding it. And if there wasn’t, he’d usually volunteer us to fix … Continue reading Bigger Than Elvis →

Growing up, Dad was never what I would call cheap but he sure loved a bargain. He didn’t just buy things. He hunted them. Unfortunately, bargains rarely loved him back. The Hunt When we moved to Chicago, our neighbors across the street invited us to go tobogganing at a local park. Being new, and very … Continue reading Not Good To The Last Drop →

Growing up, my brother Kevin and I had very different lanes with Dad. Kevin got sports.He was the athletic one, the kid who could fire a fastball past you and then, just to show off, float a knuckleball Dad taught him that moved like it was dodging taxes. He was scouted by pros. Literal scouts. … Continue reading Joe Derrick From WYNK →

For most of my life, the weekend before Christmas wasn’t about Christmas at all, it was about The Ham Run.A yearly pilgrimage.A holy pork crusade.A sojourn to ham Mecca. Dad and Red didn’t just go pick up a ham, no, sir.They embarked on an 1,800-mile round-trip, three-day interstate meat mission for reasons no one fully understood, including them. … Continue reading The Great Ham Run →

I gave the eulogy at Dad’s funeral. I stood up in front of family and friends with a guitar draped around me and I sang and told fart jokes. It was like the most bizarre stand-up routine ever. But the Catholic priest seemed to enjoy it. I think it was when I said all the … Continue reading 3 Farts And A Funeral →

Looking back, I can see it clearly now:For the last couple of years of Dad’s life… I was an enabler. Not in the dramatic intervention-style way.More like the son-trying-to-hold-the-center-together way. Every time my sister mentioned Dad’s dementia getting worse, I brushed it off. “He hasn’t even been diagnosed with anything,” I’d say. She’d tell me how he … Continue reading The Hardest Hey Boy I Never Heard →

Since Dad’s passing, there are these moments that come back to me in flashes, some sweet, some inappropriate, and all of them unmistakably him. And if you put a new person into his orbit?He treated it like opening night. With Dad, those moments didn’t look like Hallmark cards.They looked like perfectly timed one-liners, sideways humor, … Continue reading Flush the Rubbers (and Other Life Lessons) →

Dad had this superpower: when he decided to do something, the rest of the world just had to deal with it. No easing into it. No “starting Monday.” He’d make up his mind, lock onto the target, and that was that. I have no idea where this discipline came from, maybe the military, maybe the … Continue reading The Day Dad Won Last Place →

I was Dad’s IT guy for all things electronic.If it plugged in, beeped, or lit up, I was tech support on call. He once had my brother install a new satellite radio in his truck. When it was done, my brother asked where the instructions were, and Dad said,“Oh, I threw those away, that’s what … Continue reading Tech Wars: Adventures in Dad Support →

I came across a quote the other day that said, “What if every time you think of them, it’s because they’re telling a story about you in heaven?”Last week, my brother, sister, and I got together for the first time in over a year and a half, and if that quote’s true, Mom and Dad were … Continue reading Golden Hacks and Sunshine →

When I was little, I thought my dad’s mom, Grandma Gough, was mean.Not evil mean, just… quiet, old-lady chuckle-while-you’re-getting-a-spanking mean. I distinctly remember catching her smirking once while I was getting my butt lit up, and I thought, What kind of monster laughs at that? Of course, now that I’m a grandparent, I’ve caught myself doing the … Continue reading You Can Call Me Ken →

Every week as I’m writing, I wonder if I’ve chosen the right story, too much crazy, too much heart, or maybe not enough of either. Most of my stories about Dad are wild and funny, because, well, so was he. But not all of our conversations were like that. Some were quiet, serious even, especially … Continue reading Big Turds and Small Miracles →

When Dad roped you into one of his schemes, it felt like the coach had just sent you in to score the winning touchdown. That’s how it was, if you got to play a part in his mischief, you weren’t just in the room, you were chosen. Everybody who knew him felt that way. When Dad … Continue reading You Never Bring Your Mom →

I’ve always wondered where Dad’s “Hey Boy” language started, that way he could pack a whole conversation, a mood, even a warning, into just those two words. I suspect it went all the way back to childhood, because there was one other person who could speak it just as fluently as Dad. Dad’s best friend … Continue reading The Original Hey Boys →

Dad and I had a lot of conversations over the years, even when dementia had him in a chokehold. By that point, I was usually a guy named Steve who happened to run the facility he was staying in, which, unfortunately for me, was his own house. Still, every now and then, the fog would … Continue reading Dad, the Accidental Philosopher →

When I decided to start this blog, I knew this story was going to be one of the first I told. It’s too funny not to share, but it also shows something deeper about my dad, how much dignity meant to him. And maybe that’s why dementia felt so cruel in the end, because it … Continue reading Wheelchairs, Redcoats, and Dad’s Wrath →

When the dementia really started to sink its teeth into Dad, I had a thought that chilled me: oh my god, I’m staring at my future. His mother had it. One of his brothers. A couple of his sisters. So, I started writing down little memories, half-thinking maybe they’d help him remember, half-thinking maybe one day they’d … Continue reading Pussy-Whipped, Heartbroken, and Dad’s Perfect Punchline →

The first words out of my dad’s mouth, every damn time I saw him or called him on the phone, were the same two words: “Hey Boy.” It didn’t matter if he was happy, sad, pissed off, or somewhere in between, those two words carried the whole mood. A big booming “Hey Boy” meant I … Continue reading Why I Started Hey Boy →