My father, if you recall, was one of the cussers of all time. He never cussed anyone in particular but if I felt that it was directed at me, well I ran. As a college professor, it is assumed that your vocabulary is sufficient so that you don't swear. Not true, damn, hell and every once in awhile the f-bomb was used in class. Mostly for affect and it worked. My dad, Walt Gregg, what a guy!
davidcustiskimball
· 5 months ago
Ya know, my dad, a pediatrician and my mom, a dedicated homemaker and supervisor of all things homey as well as those related to the home office of my dad, the country doctor. They didn't swear at all. My most memorable quote of my mom to and about my dad was: upon one busy spring day.... 'Robbins, I married you for better or worse, but not for lunch.' Dad's favorite was an all american baseball reference: ' Don't you get the pitch?'
I always liked your dad's direct approach: witnessing one little tiff in the Gregg household, I noticed he projected his middle finger quite profoundly at your mom.
My grand uncle, Harry, my grandmother's brother, was a wind engineer, and in his latter years modified an Edgartown 18 to his specs. The sails, mast and rigging were all moveable and he ordered them to be adjusted just about every minute you were sailing with him. If you weren't in the right place pulling the right line at the right time, he belllowed: 'make the god damn thing fast' and that also meant 'in a hurry'. 'Get your lazy ass to starboard (or port, or aft or forward)' to anticipate the wave action. 'Hike your fat ass out'.
Needless to say, the ladies did not sail with Harry as often as you might think some tight assed bitches would find his company arousing. He had won the Edgartown cup 2 years in a row, and upon winning the third year, those cheap-ass NewEnglanders would let you keep the plated metal momento. Harry got a heart attack in one of the last races of his 3rd winning year, and the bastards kept the cup.
Harry's boat is called the Whisper and as late as 2002, the boat now owned by an island minister, was winning races on Martha's Vineyard.... no shit.
Millport
· 5 months ago
The middle finger was a source for many jokes and much ribbing. He never used his index finger to point, or make a point.
You know I think that we both were fortunate growing up. And we fortunate to have friendship that built tree houses and model train tables, not mention vitamin E.
All Comments
My dad, Walt Gregg, what a guy!
I always liked your dad's direct approach: witnessing one little tiff in the Gregg household, I noticed he projected his middle finger quite profoundly at your mom.
My grand uncle, Harry, my grandmother's brother, was a wind engineer, and in his latter years modified an Edgartown 18 to his specs. The sails, mast and rigging were all moveable and he ordered them to be adjusted just about every minute you were sailing with him. If you weren't in the right place pulling the right line at the right time, he belllowed: 'make the god damn thing fast' and that also meant 'in a hurry'.
'Get your lazy ass to starboard (or port, or aft or forward)' to anticipate the wave action. 'Hike your fat ass out'.
Needless to say, the ladies did not sail with Harry as often as you might think some tight assed bitches would find his company arousing. He had won the Edgartown cup 2 years in a row, and upon winning the third year, those cheap-ass NewEnglanders would let you keep the plated metal momento. Harry got a heart attack in one of the last races of his 3rd winning year, and the bastards kept the cup.
Harry's boat is called the Whisper and as late as 2002, the boat now owned by an island minister, was winning races on Martha's Vineyard.... no shit.
You know I think that we both were fortunate growing up. And we fortunate to have friendship that built tree houses and model train tables, not mention vitamin E.