Those simple moments…

We all have them. Seemingly insignificant at the time, simple moments become indelible in our memories and are a positive piece of our past forever.

For me it was the end of a boy scout camp weekend when my dad showed up to pick me up on a new (used) mini bike. A friend of my dads agreed to lug my gear home so I hopped on the back and we headed home. The ride was only 20 minutes and we barely topped 35 MPH, but that moment is as clear in my mind as the day it happened…decades ago. Maybe that’s why I have a deep rooted love of two-wheel transportation.

This past Sunday I pried my 16 year old off the computer and made her take a short ride with me. We headed to an adjoining town where there is an old A&W drive-in that’s long since lost it’s branding and is run by Pete. “Pete’s Drive In…since 1966”. The ride there was only 30 minutes. The food was simple diner fare but delicious. There was nobody else in the place. Pete even came by to ask if he could refill our “sodies”.

The ride back we took the long way and got a brief downpour.

All told…it was close to two hours and $11 spent…but I’ll bet it’s something she’ll remember forever.

Just had to share.



Anyone else care to share?

I try to take my wee bairn on the motorcycle each weekend cause he loves it so. 20mph through the neighborhood to my 3 yr old is prolly like 50mph on the highway to my wife. Only, he's demanding I go faster and she's insisting I slow down.

--------

Laying in bed on a rainy day with my 3 year old watching WAll-E for the first time.

Half way in he suddenly pops his head up, "Dadah!?"

"Yes son?" I say.

"I wove you. You are my big best friend!"


A moment, I hope, I never forget.

Then he pee'd his pants, soaking MY pillow and I beat him with a phone coord. ( joking of course)

------

Prior to that was a moment with my wife. 2 hours with feet in the sand on a beach in Malaysia. Not a single word said between us while we just watched the waves come in and go out. Pure Heaven! She hasn't shut up since tho' (this one I am serious about).

-----

The only moment with my dad that comes to mind was him teaching me to shoot the scatter gun. A field in El Reno. Barrell choke opened all the way up. Hay bales stacked mebe 10 foot away but, I was like 8 or 9 years old and they seemd to be a 100 foot away.

"Hold it tight to your shoulder, close one eye, aim for the hay, and gently pull the trigger" Dad said. But again, I was 8 or 9 and had a shotgun in my hands for the first time. All I heard was "Hold it, close eyes, hay, pull trigger" ................ "Boom!" ..... "Chunka - Boom"

It was a pump action shotgun (5 in, I think). After the initial "Boom" the force was great enough to throw me back to a flat on my back postion, scared outta my wits from the lack of expectation I guess i had a Kung-Foo grip on the gun with BOTH hands as, in a flash when I had actually met the ground I had apparently managed to "re-cock" the gun and pull the trigger a second time before i had regained control of myself, my functions, and worse the gun.

My Dad was white as a ghost until he assessed the situation and then he burst out in laughter and asked if I wanted to try again, only, the right way this time.

I was bruised for 3 weeks and don't recall EVER having another dance with that gun.

Nice thread BM.

Probably my first memory with my dad was when was about three. We lived in a neighborhood that had a large pond (I think it was actually a lake but they called it a pond). We did not live on the water but could walk to it. I remember sitting on the dock with him with our feet in the water. At the time, I was afraid the fish were going to bite my toes and he explained that how I had nothing to worry about. We just sat there and talked "man to man" as he would say. Great memory and could not have been more of a simple moment.

I was sitting in the living room watching TV with the young'ns. My daughter climbed onto my lap facing me, put her hands on my cheeks and says "Daddy, you're my princess." At the time she was only a year and a half old and to this day, I refer to her as my princess. So to me, this was a bigger sign of affection than if she just told me she loved me.

When I was a kid, my little brother and I would play in the front yard while my mom and stepdad sat on the front stoop in the summer. My stepdad would make a cappuccino for my mom and an espresso for himself, and they would watch while my brother and I did kartwheels, head stands, etc. Sometimes my stepdad would come out on the lawn and we'd compete for who could hold the headstand the longest. The whole time, my mom would be scolding him - he broke his neck doing gymnastics when he was 17, so he certainly shouldn't have been doing headstands.

I had a flashback the other day when it was approaching 8 pm, the wind was blowing a little, it was warm, and the sun was still shining. That's one of my absolute favorite memories from growing up.


My other favorite simple moment I still get to experience. Any time I ride in the car with my mom and stepdad, there's always at least a few minutes where he rests his hand on her knee, or holds her hand on his leg. It's just a simple form of contact that speaks volumes about their affection for each other.

Good thread, BM.

When I was younger, we didn't have much money so we were a one-car family. Vacation meant my brother, me and my mom going to camp in Maine for a week while my dad worked. After work, he would drive from Boston to Maine, pick me and my brother up and drive us back to Mass. for Little League games. Then he'd drive us back up to Maine and head back to work the next morning. He did this three times a week during the summers for at least five years. He would also play catch with us constantly, which was no small feat considering he was afflicted with rheumatoid arthritis from the time he was 30. He would barely be able to move the next day but we never heard a complaint from him.

We grew apart over the years but had a moment I'll never forget shortly before he died. On one of his last lucid days in the hospital, the Sox played the Yankees on Sunday night baseball. He asked that just he and I watch the game in his room. Sox hit four straight homers that night. It was a grand slam night for me. He died a few days later with me and my brother with him.

Moments like that with my girls occur many times each week. Rarely does a day go by when something they do doesn't bring a tear of joy to my eyes. They think nothing of those moments but they mean the world to me.

Shecky_Gnome said:

When I was younger, we didn't have much money so we were a one-car family. Vacation meant my brother, me and my mom going to camp in Maine for a week while my dad worked. After work, he would drive from Boston to Maine, pick me and my brother up and drive us back to Mass. for Little League games. Then he'd drive us back up to Maine and head back to work the next morning. He did this three times a week during the summers for at least five years. He would also play catch with us constantly, which was no small feat considering he was afflicted with rheumatoid arthritis from the time he was 30. He would barely be able to move the next day but we never heard a complaint from him.

We grew apart over the years but had a moment I'll never forget shortly before he died. On one of his last lucid days in the hospital, the Sox played the Yankees on Sunday night baseball. He asked that just he and I watch the game in his room. Sox hit four straight homers that night. It was a grand slam night for me. He died a few days later with me and my brother with him.

Moments like that with my girls occur many times each week. Rarely does a day go by when something they do doesn't bring a tear of joy to my eyes. They think nothing of those moments but they mean the world to me.

Click to expand...

Christ Shecky, I'm at work for god's sake! Choking story there.


I don't really have any memories of my dad as a kid, never even seen a picture of him holding me. I enjoy everyone's stories on here and live vicariously through you.
My one Father/Son moment I guess was at some picnic or something at the firehouse in a nearby small town with my stepdad. We were sitting on a parking curb and he handed me his beer and asked if I wanted to try it. It was most likely Busch Light, I don't know. That made my day! It's was freaking disgusting (I was 12-13) but it meant alot.
I do however hope to have countless moments like this with my boy. It's amazing how even at 10 months the little things he does that make you tear up and wanna just squeeze him, but like you said probably don't mean anything to him.

The day I finished my Eagle Project and final requirement for the rank when I was 14, my dad and I came home and were hanging out in the back yard together. He cracked open 2 beers and handed me one. I think I remember it being a Celis. He said "You're truly a man today, I'm proud of you."

Another experience with my dad and brother that I will certainly never forget: The three of us were taking his boat from Freeport, TX to Fort Myers, FL. I was 18 and it was the summer between Senior year of High School and Freshman year of college. It was supposed to be a 3-day trip, the first of which to be 13 hours long... straight across the Gulf of Mexico from Freeport to Venice, Louisiana. It was a beautiful day, probably 1-3's most of the way, until we were 40 miles or so from the shore of our destination. A black wall cloud like nothing I've ever seen before appeared in front of us and was as far as you could see both ways. It was weird -- not a cloud in the sky above us, and pure darkness straight ahead. The Coast Guard came on the radio and said "All Vessels, Seek Shelter Immediately." Well, our shelter was on the other side of the storm. We had no choice but to progress, so we notified the Coast Guard of our wareabouts and situation, and it didn't take long before we were in the middle of the storm in pitch black and 10-15' waves. Coast Guard said all we could do was to anchor and wait it out.

My dad looked at us and said, "Boys, it's time to put on our life jackets." So we did, watching lightning strike the water all around us and feeling the rain hit us sideways like pellets. I remember thinking, "Considering we are a floating lightning rod in the middle of the ocean, we're screwed." Then my dad proceeded to crawl up the front of the boat to drop anchor, and I had never been so scared in my life that he was going to get thrown overboard. He didn't, and the storm eventually passed. At that point it was too dark to navigate our way through "Tiger Pass" and, having never been there before, we contacted a "jeckem-up rig" that was slowly making its way in and starting tailing it in to shore. My dad cracked open a few beers, handed them to us, and said "Man, that was close."

It felt really good to be alive and with my bro and dad at that moment.

Trubadour said:

It felt really good to be alive and with my bro and dad at that moment.

Click to expand...

Sounds like a movie plot.

I worked and saved for a year to buy me and dad a trip to Germany. I gave it to him on Christmas. It was the first time i seen my dad cry. I will never forget having my first beer at October fest with my dad.

friarjohn said:

I worked and saved for a year to buy me and dad a trip to Germany. I gave it to him on Christmas. It was the first time i seen my dad cry. I will never forget having my first beer at October fest with my dad.

Click to expand...

Excellent moment!

Sounds like that commercial tho'. "Spent thousands to physically trace your German heritage only to learn that you are Swedish" or something like that.

I.... don't remember.

Went to scout camp when I was eight. Camp was fun, shot the hell out of some cans with BB guns, shot some bows, swam, etc..

On the last day of camp, waiting for parents to show up, I was screwing around and tried to step onto a pontoon that was tied up close to shore a little bit away from camp. I did the splits and fell in. Having grown up on the water I felt pretty stupid. After watching my son after camp I'm pretty sure I was just plain worn out.

Three years ago we went to the same camp for a parent/child three day camp. It all came back. The best part was that he loved the same stuff that I did. To this day we argue over who was better with the BB gun.

And I still haven't told him about the wipeout My daughter will be old enough next summer and my wife and I are already arguing over who gets to go.