son of a preacherman

So, for some reason I have Aretha Franklin’s “Son of a Preacherman” in my head which makes me think of my dad.

My dad was a high school drop out, Marine, Korean War Vet, Supervisor for Raytheon, Preacherman. He was also an avid reader although I rarely caught him reading anything but informational stuff.

He taught himself ancient Hebrew.

Years ago my family pitched in and bought some land in Vermont and we would vacation up there as a family and we would bring the pets, there was always a cat or two. The cats would usually go out hunting at night and in the morning there would always be a mouse or a shrew or a mole or a vole – dead, somewhere around.

It seemed a waste all these little furry carcasses just being tossed into the nighttime fire so I said too bad Uncle Lyman isn’t here because I bet he would skin them. My dad’s brother Lyman had died a few years before.

My dad took this as a challenge, as I thought he might, and skinned a star-nosed mole.

Unfortunately, I was dared to skin the next thing that showed up the following morning. The experience nearly made me a vegetarian.

So, somewhere in the house I have a couple of rodent (or rodent-like) pelts which maybe I’ll find and post a picture of.

I’m not actually a backwoods hillbilly, I just act like one from time to time.

Anyway, the point of this was going to be that two things that I got from my dad were: one that I’ll read almost anything I’ll get my hands on (mostly informational stuff) and I’ll almost do anything on a dare if I think you don’t think that I’ll do it.

Which are probably just symptoms of being able to learn on my own and not being afraid of trying things that I have never tried before which I guess is what he really taught me.

So, thanks dad.

Sometimes you rocked. ...but really, skinning the mole was just weird.

Oh! and I think I need to steal more kisses on the sly