My Dad

My mom and I were talking the other day about how my dad always used hankerchiefs, and how gross the used ones were. I also remember one time when I was little and we were staying on the boat, and for whatever reason (I guess we had company or something), I had to sleep in the bunk dad usually slept in. I went to go to bed and there was a dried snot on the pillow. Horrified, I called for my mom. She took a look and said, "Oh, that's just a piece of dried seaweed". I remember looking at her incredulously, like, "you really want me to buy that?"

My dad hated to take showers; he liked baths, and not too frequently if you please. Up at the cottage, there was only a shower stall, no tub, and every few weeks (!) my mom would start bugging him to get clean. My dad's business partner, Jim, stayed in an apartment over the marina store, and there was a tub in the apartment. So dad would gather his gear and reluctantly go take a bath at Jim's.

I don't remember my dad ever getting really stinky; just kind of aromatic of cigarette smoke and sweat. My mom swears that his jeans could stand up by themselves sometimes; he didn't like to change clothes very often. He was never really dirty dirty; I guess he just didn't like water. I miss him.