Friday, March 6

Pops


I love my Dad. He's a unique guy with unique interests. He takes a lot of jibes from the rest of the family, mostly for the gear he sometimes has to wear, but he sticks to his guns and does what he loves.

He's an avid birder and naturalist and was one long before I came along. He's traveled the world to see countless exotic birds. He likes South American birding best. He's had many adventures and cherishes them all. The man has all kinds of crazy stories from his travels. He once woke to a strange noise which turned out to be a wild monkey ripping apart the bed next to his. (I think I'd literally die if I woke to that.) He can tell you about his favorite pet named Carmen whom he met in Venezuela. When I saw the pictures of Carmen I asked "What the hell is that?!" He said "That's Carmen! She's a sweetheart." Carmen was a capybara. In my eyes she was a giant rat, just like the one in The Princess Bride, and I never wanted to meet her. Who knew those things really existed? My dad has a quicksand story for God's sake! I think I assumed quicksand was just the stuff of cartoons until he told me about having to help a friend out of it once. Needless to say my Mom and I have never fancied traveling with Dad to South America.

Dad is an Environmental Engineer by trade. He's all about conservation and he's not afraid to take on City Hall if they're doing something stupid which is harming the environment. If someone is doing something stupid he taught me to speak up. He taught me to recycle back in the 70's... waaaaaaay before it became hip. He taught me to love nature, classical music and the Dodgers. He taught me how to play chess and to never cheat at anything. We tend to see eye to eye on most things. We gripe about or, more recently, celebrate politics together. We share most world views but occasionally we part ways in opinions.

Yesterday Pops once again exhibited his uniqueness. He may have outdone himself this time. Yesterday Pops brought this home. Yup, it's what it looks like, it's a blowgun. Who knew anyone actually manufactured these things? I guess I assumed you had to be a tribe native and carve your own.

A quick Google search confirms that most folks out there with blowguns are complete wingnuts. They tend towards the wannabe ninja and survivalist types. Luckily my Dad is neither. He is just into pest control. While some folks like to call an exterminator, Dad prefers to take pests on himself the Havahart way... until now. I think he's adopting a No-More-Mr.-Nice-Guy approach. I think the rats, who eat all of the avocados off our tree every year, may be want to rethink their sojourn into Dad's territory.

I just hope Dad doesn't decide to wander the neighborhood with his trusty blowgun slung over his shoulder. How would we explain that to the neighbors? Then again, when he bought his low-tech push lawn mower the neighborhood was abuzz with nostalgia. Somehow I'm not so sure they'd be as enthusiastic about a blowgun.

2 comments:

kb said...

Love the picture of your Daddy! The man will never cease to make me laugh with the stories you share about him.

shandon said...

I love your dad! And if he wants to practice with his blowgun, we have some vermin in our neck o' the woods that need to be taught a lesson.