Tales of Florida / Inside Family Joke

Disclaimer: Dad, you have given all of us so much. I really hope you don't mind that you were my inspiration during my freewriting time. Well, maybe Katie was also inspiration, since she is a hilarious writer and she gave me the idea to try to write something funny. This is in no way meant to be offensive. I love you, and I wouldn't be who I am today without you.


It is now 3:15 - we’ve done a lot of writing today, and it’s been fun.  

Writers that can incorporate humor in their writing are usually more fun to read, and that is something I want to work on.  Katie, my youngest sister, seems to be a master at this.  Some of her references are hard to get - she is so smart and intellectual.  Writing about how your parents embarrass you is funny - how we call my dad’s outdated, annoyingly shorter than the current style shorts, “nut huggers” a classic title invented by the wildly irreverant Colleen, is inappropriate, but hilarious, especially when we tell him.  He doesn’t seem to see the humor in it, though.  

His obsession with keeping the two by four foot “pond” going in the Florida backyard is also somewhat hilarious, and could be regarded using one of his favorite phrases as a “Pyrrhic Victory”.  Sure, he is currently successful keeping the koi fish and exotic fan tail sharks alive, but he has killed approximately five batches of said fish, and in the process, spent over $1,500.00  My brother Sean claims Dad is now operating at the cost of a small country.  Dad has the bad habit of “treating the water”, and in the process, overly medicating and killing the koi.  He often claims that finances are tight, and it is obvious why.  He continually wins the proverbial battle of the koi pond, and just as often suffers the agony of defeat in the war of the wallet.  Most conversations with him center around the ridiculuosly small “pond” and how the native Florida wildlife, namely, snakes, are quietly poaching large numbers of the fish.  Dad always tries to kill the snakes in some dramatic way, and can always be relied upon, according to his accounts, to hurt himself in the process.  There is always a famous shovel he happens to have handy when he attempts to kill the snakes.  Does he think he’s a modern day St. George?  There are no dragons, so he has to settle for snakes?  I don’t get it.  His favorite method?  He chops thier heads off, usually tripping on a rock and rolling his ankle in the process.  So far, I think two out of the four snakes have escaped, and there are probably others watching, weighing the chances of a sure meal.  I am waiting one day for the snakes to demand retribution.  I have tried telling him that, since the snakes are native to Florida, it is only fair that they get to prey on the spoiled imported koi - what can he expect?  He doesn’t care.  The emails he sends out detailing his attempted snake coups are, I think , somewhat exaggerated.   The proportion of snakes to kills seems a bit unlikely, and if his tales were true, Dad would have eradicated half the black snake population in the state of Florida.  But, since the snakes keep coming, they must have the upper hand.  Dad is also obsessed with the yard, and the vegetation in it.  He loves discussing the numerous palm trees he and Isobel have bought for their outside, which is starting to look very much like Jurassic Park.  While beautiful, I sometimes wonder what will happen when all these palm trees mature.  Probably, they will provide a great habitat for the snakes!  Dad will just have to restock the pond more often.  

Dad is not a “Mr. Fix-it”, a point he would vigorously deny.  Growing up, we had many unfortunate incidents thrust upon us of his “projects” that we “helped” with.  Partly I am guessing that having a family of seven kids was a source of readily available child labor, and it was for sure that none of us would complain.  Who could we go to?  The other part of this was that I truly think Dad thought of himself as a “handy” kind of a guy.  He would seem to get really excited about “building a closet” - the end result of which was a raw wooden frame, with the pole clothes hanger made out of a broom handle.  This happened at least twice.  Usually, these projects did not add financial value to the home.  Maureen and I would try to “be busy”, but our excuses never worked.  We would end up nervously holding two by fours, while Dad drilled screws into the wood, close to our hands, stripping the head of the screw and swearing loudly. It was, shall I say, more than a little nerve wracking. (Ahem.) Unfortunately, Dad passed his handyman ability or lack thereof, down at least to me, and who knows how many others of us kids? It is not uncommon for me to break something I am trying to fix, like the time I was trying to put a screen in a window for upcoming summer, and to loosen the wooden frame in order to LIFT THE DAMNED thing, kicked it, missed the frame, and shattered the window. There have been many incidents like this. Thanks, Dad.