My brother and I shoveling snow off the walk and driveway at our home in Norfolk. I was 13.

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I'm by the window in front of the dark haired girl.

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Half way through my senior year (I’d been living alone, as my Father went back to sea, and my Mother went to Texas to take care of her Father) and I lived literally right across the street from my high school, had a pool, actually was doing better in school on my own. And living across the street and having a pool had its benefits. A lot of benefits
Very good looking benefits. I’ll leave that for another time. But among the things that happened just about halfway through the school year, had I doctors appointment and told my homeroom teacher, Ms Turbiville, that I would be late the next day as I had a doctors appointment, well, all she saw was some laid back kid, always going surfing after school, who didn’t seem to take life seriously, a non stoned, Jeff Spicolli..
So she right off the bat says that she will need a note from my parents. When I explained that my Mother was in Texas and my father was at see, she goes into the “we need to call child services,as you can’t let I’ve alone. Well, my birthday is late in August, which would screw up my placement in the school year, but when I told her that I was 18, and she realized that the kid she pegged as a slacker, didn’t even have to show up for school, but was always there and on time, she was Shocked.
Ok, now for what changed in my senior year in high school. Well, my Father was a real Hardass, he broke his Father’s jaw when he was 17, because he wanted to join the Navy and fight in WWII, his father had it all set, he had been going to a Prep school in NEw York (my father was raised in Depression era Brooklyn) then to Princeton . Of course that changed when he lied about his age and joined, but when I hit my “Growth Spirt” when he had a few Manhattans, the “You’ll never be tougher than the Old Man” lessons, and the fact that he joined a merchant seaman’s union, right after the war, worked his way up (with more than a few being a Enforcer moments) and was with the union until he retired as the agent for the South East and the stories that some of the Sailors and people who worked with him, well he was not to be taken lightly. And about 3/4 through the school year, he returned from sea (and others had even more stories about him, educating guys a 1/3 his age. He always told me that if he thought I was screwing up after I turned 18, he would take me outside and beat the hell out of me. Well, my evil step sister had him over at her house,redoing her wood floors, pouring him full of bourbon (and he was a mean drunk) he came home, I was out, he couldn’t find one of my tools that he needed for the evil stepsister’s house, mine you, these were tools that I bought with the money I earned working at the local Schwinn shop, he did not buy them for me, he didn’t provide me with the money to buy them. Could tell by the tone of his voice that he considered that I had F****ed up, I called my best friend and we loaded what we could of mine into out Datsun 620 trucks and I went to my Aunts home , over seven miles away. But I had a car, so not a big deal, until the rear end went out and I didn’t have the money to buy another one and install it (I went through 3 rear ends in that truck, but again, for another thread) so I rode my bicycle, and still made it to school on time, didn’t miss any days and was very lucky because I had to go through some not very friendly, safe areas, especially for a White boy. Yet I survived,
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Yes, my father was a extreme hard ass, but while my older brother was extremely talented, sports, school, artistically gifted etc, I was the runt of the litter, dyslexic, nearsighted, uncoordinated so I had to work 4 times as hard as he equal. Yet, I overcame all of that, plus, my brother got into drugs and of course other trouble, so when he got in trouble, I got punished. In the end, my Father made me a much stronger man, he passed in 1993, but at the club one night, or it may have been on his boat, told me that he really never expected me to much, I didn’t have the God given skills that my brother possessed (and flushed down the crapper) any sport I had to work for the skills, but I never gave up, I just kept pushing. Especially after my brother who was highly talented, he would quit, but I kept pushing myself too succeed. Actually told me that because of the challenges I faced, he didn’t expect much from me, but he was proud of the Man grew to be. That was not long before he unexpectedly passed. That is one thing he gave me that no one can ever take away. Remember Baz, you said you enjoyed our stories about growing up here. And I knew you before you got old.
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As for my highly skilled and talented brother, he went under a bridge, not far from where he lived, put a leaf bag over his head and a shotgun under his chin, pulled the trigger, he was worried that rats would get to him. That was 2011, he was only 54.

Byron thank you for sharing real life and not just the highlight reel like most. I think the constant highlights being posted all over the net/social media are public enemy #1 in the war against mental health decline.

FWIW my very strong belief is that people who treat others with violence are simply manifesting disappointment in their own perceived failures and lack the bravery to punch themselves in their own face. Coming out of a relationship like that with the empathy and thoughtfulness you very clearly possess (and i base that on almost two decades of reading your posts) has nothing to do with your dad and everything to do with you.

Pat yourself on the back brother.

I concur, life hands us some crazy twists and turns, my hat's off to you Byron for staying focused and doing what had to be done in a difficult situation.

I'm not brave enough to share all the ups and downs of growing up in the 60 and 70's.

My Dad battled both physical and mental health issues. Had half a lung removed when I was 3, recovered, had periods where depression would keep him in bed for days and then a couple go rounds with cancer and alienation/withdrawal from us and mom.

Mom was our rock, source of endless love, hard work and even bought her own house after they divorced.
The way to get a farm girl from NE Missouri to do something?
Tell her you don't think she can, those heels would dig in and she would prove you wrong.

Dad had an amazing memory and was a talented artist in several mediums. He's the reason we re-settled back in the PNW, he came out a year before us and worked for Boeing helping build the first 747.

He flew back home to Wichita, bought a 1968 Pontiac Catalina station wagon/Tank, loaded us (sister and I plus Mom) for the zig zag journey up the Everett to live in a little trailer.

He passed when I was 18.
Looking back I did a lousy job of picking up on what I should have been doing to be more help for mom.
I did keep cars clean and running, took care of the yard but she worked and did just about everything else.

I still consider myself lucky, my decade older brother Scott stepped in and spent lots of time with me. He probably had more impact on me than Dad in many ways.

Dad and Ralph 1978 after Mom had moved us and herself out of the family home and divorced. He was reliving his youth working on sets and lighting at a local theater and taking writing classes at the community college
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Me in the white T and sister next to me, brother Scott and Sister Candy behind us and oldest Brother and sister visiting from Cali- the Catalina station wagon as backdrop
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Dad and my granddad visiting from Wichita in 1970
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Ma and pa 1972, Picnic point beach, Lynnwood area
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Being an Xer was pretty damn good, too.

^^^^^
My mother used to go to beauty shop every Saturday for what seemed like an eternity. They would 'set' her hair for the next week, possibly two.
Then at night she would wrap her hairdo in toilet paper to try and keep ut in place.

I guess back then a person never got "just got laid" hair, given the extreme to which it was set in place.

Reminds me of riding to the dump standing iin the bed of "uncle Leanard's" green Chervy pickup. He was an old guy who had apartments across & down the alley that went next to our house. We'd (my sistere & I) stand up behind the cab and enjoy the air rushing through our hair. At the dump, he'd wait for us to finish picking around before taking us back.

Well said.

BVD's post was long so I won't quote it except for one phrase, "...but he was proud of the Man grew to be."

You got more than I did.

As I've mentioned before, my dad had to be the model for the Don Draper character in Mad Men. Actually his wife and son's characters fit pretty well, but Don and my dad were one and the same. Same fking car even. Their endings were not the same.

Yeah, Boomers are all over the place when it comes to how life worked out. I mean all over the place. Very happy to have lived the times.

Growing up in the '60s in rural Nova Scotia was pretty laid back. Once chores were done, time was our own. The river by home was not large, but had a couple of deep spots where you could swim. You just went with your friends. A bunch of us had inner tubes and spent hours drifting along.
My father taught me a lot , but not by instructing,(except when we were mixing cement for the basement floor), but by letting me watch what he was doing. It was a great education and served me well in building and maintaining this place.

As soon as I saw Lawrence Welk above this song popped into my head:

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Yep. Boomers had better cars and music, but otherwise, I think we were OK. Our generation experienced a revolution of technology that was pretty amazing when you consider we probably came in at the tail end of 8-tracks and reel-to-reel, had records and cassettes, CDs, and then digital.
Then there's land lines, cell phones, and now Dick Tracy watches.
Nothing to game consoles with pong to early PCs, and now cell phones that are more powerful than any of the old computers.
Encyclopedia sets and found girly magazines and now the Internet (to replace both).
Don't forget 3 channels to cable to VHS/Betamax to Bluray and now streaming.

I remember both sets of grandparents (and therefore me) watching Lawrence Welk. And if we were at my mom's parents place, I think we watched HeeHaw and Lawrence Welk. At my other grandparents, there was definitely no HeeHaw.

I remember that one of my big focuses when I was young was Sat morning cartoons.

I thought of this one.

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My 4th Grade class picture. Newby School in Speedway, Indiana. This was the entire 4th grade. The Speedway school system had no buses so we walked to school every day. No 'parent's dropping us off" stuff. When you got to 5th grade you could get a bike permit and ride your bike to school. They used to let us leave school during lunch (unsupervised) and walk to the local Burger Chef and eat.

I'm second from the left in the 2nd row...

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My dad went back into the Navy when I was ~4. We lived on a military base in Japan when I was in 2nd, 3rd, and 4th grade. I walked to and from school. I think in the 4th grade, I also walked home for lunch and then went back to school afterwards. I think my walk was about ½ mile each way.

My oldest brother's Camaro in Virginia in 1971........

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