Over the years I am sure we will tell Hardin many stories about my dad, but I thought I would go ahead and write a few of my favorite things. Dad was a total character. You never ever knew what was going to come out of his mouth, but you could bet that it was going to make someone laugh, blush or possibly be offended. It took me a long time to realize that 90% of the time he knew exactly how inappropriate what he was saying was... he just did it to get a rise out of people. He rarely called anyone by their given name, except for mom, the one person who despised her given name. My mom is Harriett Gail but has gone by Gail her entire life. Dad called her Harriett Every. Single. Day. She hated it. My brother was "frog" and Lara was "gidget." Somehow the two of them ended up losing their nick names sometime in high school. I, unfortunately, never lost Fred. I don't know if I really looked like a boy or if dad just wanted one, but he called me Fred since the day I was born. I thought maybe on my wedding day or law school graduation I may get a "Tiffany" out of dad, I was wrong. Both days I got the ole "I'm proud of you, Fred." It didn't bother me in the slightest :) My friend Cortney can attest to how many times I heard the phrase "Whopty-Damn-Do Fred" in highschool. I would give dad the most well thought-out argument as to why I should be allowed to stay out late, or go to a party, or do a plethora of other things I knew good and well he'd never let me do, only to receive his signature phrase. Whopty-Damn-Do Fred. I would then tell him I was just going to go spend the night at Cortney's and sneak and do what I had asked to do anyway. I realized later that he knew that's exactly what I was doing, and since he bothered to listen to my pleas he knew where I was going to be and who I was going to be with. If he really didn't like it he'd say no to spending the night at Cortney's. It was a twisted system, but our system nonetheless.
The man never passed by a Shriner or a poor person selling less-than-honestly-acquired goods without giving them money. He really thought your luck was going to run out if you passed by a little old man standing on the street, raising money for children's burn hospitals, without giving them something. He had Jason so sold on this "Shriner curse" that Jason has been known to give much larger bills than we ever intended to the local Shriner, just so he didn't have to worry about the bad karma that follows you if you don't donate. For that reason, I try and keep a few dollars on me all the time. Dad was a Mason and a Shriner, but never got old enough to collect money at the four way stop :) He was very devoted to their causes and had a lot of fun as well. While working at the Shrine center in downtown Atlanta, Dad became acquainted with many folks who had a random assortment of items for sale out of their grocery buggy. He came home with all sorts of "must haves" including sports equipment, a surround sound system, an airbrush spray tan machine, and other useless stuff that ended up in the garage. Right or wrong, at least those street salesmen were eating (or drinking) well the week they ran into Dad.
Dad could not stand a bad driver. I mean really, really could not stand it. Looking back, I am so thankful he is who taught me how to drive. He took the time to teach driving etiquette, which is clearly a lost art in Atlanta. If I would stay in the left lane too long when there was clearly someone behind me who wanted to drive faster, I got in trouble. If only everyone was taught that. He would also randomly ask me what color or type of car was behind me without looking in my mirrors to see. It taught me to keep an eye on what was going on. I am knocking on wood now, and I am certainly not the best driver in the world, but so far his driving etiquette has served me pretty well. He said good drivers not only avoid causing accidents, they can see an accident before it happens and avoid it. His feelings towards bad drivers definitely resonated in my brother and me. We are both totally intolerant of crummy drivers. I have a few folks I would rather drive around for the rest of my life than get in the passenger seat of their car! Dad took his intolerance to highly unorthodox levels. He carried around Black Cat firecrackers in his truck. He used said firecrackers when anyone was riding his tail out on the country roads by his house. He would toss them out the window to give the person behind him a little scare. This mortified me (and my mom who would end up hiding on the floor board of his truck). In my effort to get him to stop, I protested as to how illegal this must be. His reply, "well Fred, riding my ass is illegal." Way to take the law into your own hands! Along with driving, he taught me how to change my oil and a flat tire before I was allowed out on the road on my own. That was the first and last time I changed either.
Final story for this day is about his secret love for the Christmas festivities. Every year growing up he would pitch a fit about how many decorations mom had, how much money she was spending, how many people she invited to the house, the lines at the stores, the traffic on his way to work, etc, etc, etc. He complained about it all. BUT, if mom for one second even hinted that she was going to restrict her decorating or not buy as many gifts, he lost it. He loved all of the festivities just about as much as he loved to complain about them. He was also a one-stop shopper. Every year at the last minute he would go to one store, usually an electronic store, and buy us all one thing on top of everything else mom had already purchased off of our lists. We all ended up with some random electronics!
I absolutely loved this post. Sweet, sweet memories of a very special man.
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