Father’s Day Memories

Is there an apostrophe? I don’t know.

Good morning, and Happy Father’s Day to all most of the dads out there (sorry, Husky dads, you know what you did). Been a minute since we put some drivel together for this ol’ website, so maybe it’s time to re-hack the currency. As I mentioned in the Slack, this Father’s Day takes place amid a pretty sneaky-good sports weekend! We’ve got the Euro soccer games all day, the U.S. Open all afternoon, and a not great but still at least first place in their division Mariners team to watch!

What we don’t have is a lot of is a lot of Washington State Cougars news, but that will resolve itself soon enough.

Yours truly is having a decent day, as Mrs. Kendall took me and the youngest to Sunday brunch, where I experienced my first maple bacon Old Fashioned. Because dammit if you put bacon in there, it’s a breakfast beverage.

While I’ve been on the road for a handful of Father’s Days over the years, I’ve been lucky enough to have the kiddos around for most of them. However, it’s been a long time since I spent this day with my old man. Despite that, I thought I’d give you a few random snippets of what it was like growing up with him, and I invite you all to share your memories of dad, whether it was when you were a kid, what he’s like now, or both!

When I was young, and for most of my life since, dad was either an electrician or an electrical inspector. When he was working as the former, he often took me along to jobs to try and show me the ins and outs of his trade, usually when school was on summer break. Unfortunately, I was more interested in what the Mariners were doing (usually losing). During the summer and fall, he always encouraged me to go hunting/fishing/tree cutting with him. Unfortunately, I was more interested in what the Seahawks and Cougs were doing (usually losing).

He could also make his way around a car, and he always tried to teach me the basics of auto care and maintenance. Turns out roughly 0% of that stuff sunk in. And you’ll never believe this, but I wish I’d taken a lot more of those pointers and instructions to heart. I mean I’d probably have forgotten most of it by now, but it would have come in handy somewhere along the way. Instead, I just put a label on whatever breaks around the house and wait for him to fly down and fix it. Same as it ever was. This says a lot more about me than it does him!

Back in the day, dad loved to play his records (yes, records) while my brother and I played air guitar and drums. He’d bought these huge speakers when he was in Thailand during Vietnam, and those things could pump out the noise. The music (usually Van Halen’s Jump or Bruce Springsteen’s Pink Cadillac – which dad had on a 45) was so loud that the floor would bounce and the record would skip, all while dad watched out the door for mom to pull in so he could turn it down.

Those speakers also provided a pretty great (for the 1980s) surround sound experience, which dad would pump up when we watched movies on the BetaMax. While nearly everyone else had a VHS, Team Kendall had the Beta, which was a far superior product, but never gained traction because Sony was so guarded with its intellectual property. This meant that we had to drive past roughly 15 VHS-only movie rental places to get to what I think was the only Beta rental place in the 509 area code.

A bit later, dad ponied up the cash (probably more than a little!) to buy a camcorder. Man was he proud of that thing. He would video pretty much every sporting event my brother and I played in during our high school years, particularly the football games. I suspect he did this in order to distract himself and minimize the nerves that come with watching your kid play sports. As someone who has experienced this for a bit now, I think he was on to something.

He always loved to accompany me on moves – there have been a lot! – beginning with my first move away to college in Iowa. When I got moved in to my dorm room, he reached out to shake my hand and said goodbye. For the first time in my life, I saw the old man flinch like he was about to shed a tear. After he left, and to this day, I think, “what kind of asshole doesn’t at least walk his parent to the car for a proper goodbye?” My kind, apparently. Nowadays, if one of my kids tried that act, I’d say something like, “Get your ass over and give me a hug.” The lesson – one can learn from his mistakes!

Since then, I’ve lived several places that don’t include Spokane, which means mom and dad have often come to me. This had been a boon since, like I mentioned earlier, my house is often in need of his expertise when it comes to electrical work. Their desire to come and visit has been enhanced greatly over the past 12-15 years, now that grandchildren are involved.

Phone calls with dad have had a similar framework over the years, with a few tweaks. As God is my witness, this is the script that’s played out for 99% of them:

• During college – How school going? How’s ROTC? Here’s your mom.
• Prior to 9/11 – How’s work? Flying much? Car running ok? Here’s your mom.
• Years after 9/11 and marriage – How’s work? When’s your next deployment? How’s Jill? Here’s your mom.
• After having kids – How are the boys? How’s Jill? Flying much? Here’s your mom.

Neither one of us has ever been fond of talking on the phone, as you could probably tell.

Some dad quotes:

• Dad’s best legal advice – “The only thing a contract guarantees is your day in court.”
• When I’d complain about having to do yard work (dad taught me to cut the grass on my birthday, btw) – “You can mow the yard and get paid, or you can mow the yard and not get paid. Your choice.” Well then.
• Dad’s explanation for his thinning hair – “My bald spot is a solar panel for a sex machine.”
• Every time dad would spot someone with a combover – “If you ever see me do that, put a bullet in me.”

Dad was never confused for a superior athlete, but he tried to make all of our games as kids, and even though there were lots of other things he’d have preferred to watch on TV (westerns, Star Trek, Full Metal Jacket for the 10,000th time) he would humor us by watching some baseball/basketball/football game. My kids are not so fortunate, but they’ve got phones and don’t pay attention to me anyway.

Over the past decade or so, dad’s sports fan kids and him have come to a consensus regarding sports. We travel to college football games together when we can, carving out a weekend to see a place we’ve never been together. This started in 2012 when we went to a game at Ole Miss. A couple years later, we traveled to Clemson.

After a bit of a break, which spanned a pretty serious illness which kept dad out of work for a long time, I flew in from Europe for a Wisconsin-Michigan game.

After the plague year, we got together again in Austin for some Franklin Barbecue and a 105-point football game.

While my brother and I enjoyed the games and stadiums, dad was there for the tailgate and the, um, associated campus scenery. Ole Miss, Clemson and Wisconsin all delivered, as we were always able to hook up with a willing host. We weren’t so lucky in Texas, but we bought tickets that got us club access (free food and climate-control) before and during the game. This is rather key when you’re in Texas in September. The whole thing prompted dad to ask, “Why don’t we do this every time.” Apparently mistakes were made!

During a break in the action, yours truly may or may not have surreptitiously shot a video of dad listening to one of his all-time faves.

I regret nothing (even though I’m pretty sure he has no idea I did this).

Dad and I have our disagreements, especially about most political topics (vehemently so), but the good thing is that we can yell at each other for a while and there are no hard feelings. Because family and such.

This may seem trite, but I think it’s true – If you’re a dad, just showing up is almost all of the deal. You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t need to provide some sort of magical advice or words of wisdom. You just need to be there. In the end, it’s never about what you’re doing. It’s about doing it together. Happy Father’s Day.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go throw batting practice, because dad.

This Couple Months in Parenting

If you’re a fan of Bryan Curtis’ Podcast The Press Box, which I am, this is what he likes to call the notebook dump.

• About a month before school ended, we were sitting around the table discussing class work. The 12 year-old was talking about his struggles in Math, and mentioned that it was more difficult because he’s in Advanced Math. To which I said, “You’re in Advanced Math? Really?” Yes, was the answer. I had no idea. #bestdadever
• The teenager had his annual Junior ROTC awards ceremony a few weeks before school ended (he earned another major award and a spot on his detachment leadership team), and asked to celebrate by going to dinner at the local hibachi grill with some friends. I relented, and gave him my credit card. When he got home, I asked him what the damage was. “About $25” was the answer, as he ordered some steak and a water. So imagine my surprise when I saw a charge for north of $50 on my statement. He was perplexed, saying that he split the check three ways with two friends. So off to the restaurant I went, looking for answers. Turns out his friends had ordered $30 each worth of stuff, and pitched in about $20 each. He was pretty distraught about the affair. So, the lesson? As I told him, if your friends try to pull this stuff with you, they’re not really your friends.
• The 12 year-old had a buddy over to spend the night, and when I wandered into the family room, they were just starting to watch Top Gun. The friend asked my kid which one they were going to watch, and he replied, “The old one, which is the better one.” You’re goddamn right, son.
• I don’t pay super close attention to the cell phone bill, to my own peril, but I noticed on the last one that the total was a bit off. I investigated a bit, and saw that there was a $2.99 charge for “Directory Assistance.” WTF? The forensics revealed that it came from, of course, the 12 year-old’s phone. When queried, I got the expected response of, “I didn’t know what it was so I wanted to find out.” Of course. Of course.
• That same 12 year-old has been begging me for a new bat since probably February. Every time he asked, my response was always the same. “You have to show me that you can make solid contact before I get you a new bat.” We went all the way to the last game of the year, and the last plate appearance of the year, when he was facing a big, and hard-throwing lefty. After a few fouls, he made solid contact. The ball carried, and carried, and carried, all the way over the fence! s;lkdfjkas;kdfjawew;leakrhjalker!!!!!!! For nearly every game I’d been at, I took video of his plate appearances. But this time, I wasn’t, and I was rather pleased that I got to watch it in-person, and not via camera lens. Everyone should try it!

Naturally, the first question postgame had to do with the new bat. “Why would you need a new bat?” I replied, “You hit a home run with this one!” It got the expected reaction. A bit later, I asked him about which new bat he wanted. You’ll be stunned to learn that he wanted something called a Hype Fire, which is, of course, north of $300. HAVE I MENTIONED HOW INSANE ALL OF THIS IS???!!! Anyway, we struck a deal in which he’d put $100 of his own money toward the purchase. So when it came time to pay, I made him hand the cash over to the Dick’s employee, and not simply reimburse me. Hopefully that helped the magnitude of the purchase sink in a bit.

• After school ended, Team Kendall took a trip to San Diego. Since I’m me, this called for a mandatory trip to In n Out Burger. The 15 year-old tapeworm took advantage, murdering a 3×3.

We also spilt some animal-style fries and a Neapolitan shake because mandatory. Afterward, the 12 year-old came clean, admitting “I thought it would be overrated, but it was really good!” Yeah, no f***ing shit, kid.

• We then went split team ops, because the kids had competing agendas. Mrs. Kendall and the teenager went to see the USS Midway Museum, while the youngest and I checked out the San Diego Zoo. After seeing a couple tortoises taking part in “San Diego Zoo, After Dark”, and several other cool exhibits, we ventured to the gift shop on the way to the ride share. His MO during all of our overseas trips was to get a snow globe, so I asked him if another was in order. “No. That’s my Europe thing.” Oh. Instead, he was intent on a stuffed animal. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you “Big Balla Koala.”

Yes, that’s the 12 year-old’s name for him. Don’t wear it out.

• We interrupt this parenting section to tell you that CRAIG POWERS WAS ALSO IN SAN DIEGO AND WE GOT TO HANG OUT AND IT WAS AWESOME AND CRAIG IS TOTALLY COMING TO FLORIDA BECAUSE AMANDA PROMISED!!!!

• Ok back to regularly scheduled programming. When it was time to leave the Best Coast, we hung out in a San Diego airport lounge. We got there about 0730 and it was busy, but we found a table. As I headed for the coffee machine, I spied both kids walking back to the table with a stack of cookies and brownies. Before 8 a.m. They were instructed to save them for the flight (which was delayed which resulted in Mrs. Kendall and the boys spending two days in Dallas while I made it home to take care of the dog but that’s neither here nor there tl;dr American Airlines sucks the biggest suck that ever sucked a suck)
• Once we got home, it was back to (semi) reality, as the oldest has football conditioning and the youngest has…well…not a lot! He’s been directed to read a book and produce a report by July 15. Naturally, the only time he reads his book is when we send him to bed for the evening, because the only reason to read a book is if it means you don’t have to go to sleep.
• As I write this, the teenager is in Colorado, taking part in Track & Field camp at the U.S. Air Force Academy. I made his flight reservation several weeks ago, but there was a multi-day period in which I had him convinced that he was taking the bus from Pensacola to Colorado Springs. I could tell he was a tad uneasy about it, because he was asking several questions, such as, “What do I do when we stop in Houston and Dallas over night?” I said the stops didn’t last long, and he would just sleep on the bus. After I let him off the hook, it was time to fly to Denver, where his aunt and uncle would police him up and take him south. Of course, on Friday evening as he was enroute, Mrs. Kendall admitted that her stomach was in knots as he traveled. Keep in mind that this is a kid who we’d sent across the Atlantic Ocean as an 11 year-old to see his grandparents. Also keep in mind IT WAS A NONSTOP FLIGHT! Moms. Anyhoo, he got to hang with his extended family for a day, heading to Colorado Springs for check-in on Sunday. Along the way, I got this message:

But for real the bus is a lot more reasonable!

• Finally, Mrs. Kendall and I wanted to figure out a way for the boys to make it up to Spokane this summer, amid camps, football conditioning etc. So after a bit of schedule-massaging, we were able to book the boys on a flight in mid-July while Mrs. Kendall and I head off to celebrate our 20th anniversary at MYSTERY LOCATION. (For real I planned the whole thing and she says she doesn’t want to know but she will be decidedly underwhelmed because I suck but whatever). Since they’re traveling without adults, I tried to keep things as simple as possible, so they’re flying to GEG via DEN (in case they have a problem at which time their aunt and uncle who live in Denver can help did I mention that I worked for several years as a planner I’m sure you couldn’t have guessed!). Anyhoo, the 12 year-old asked me last night how long the Denver layover was, and I said about three hours. “I’m guessing we won’t be able to go to a lounge,” he said. I said he was correct, which prompted him to lament, “So that means we just have to spend our time in GenPop.” These little bastards have no idea how spoiled they are. This is my fault, and I accept the consequences.

Book Club

I’ve made my way through a couple tomes since I touched on this subject. The first was Salt: A World History. This book was filled with an incredible amount of knowledge and facts. The narrative itself is rather dry (pun intended), but I found it very interesting.

After that, it was The Fifth Risk by Michael Lewis. Lewis is just amazingly talented – his recent comments on the Michael Oher and Sam Bankman-Fried situations nonwithstanding – writer, and this was good, but not his best effort. What I found most interesting was his theme regarding rural voters. They are often the most rabid “anti-government” bloc, even though rural communities rely on the federal government far more than urban voters do. I can’t understand it, but it is a fact.

I’m currently reading The Splendid and the Vile, and it’s really good so far. Erik Larson is amazingly talented.