My two dads.
Before you go any further, this is not my normal post... deals w/ adult themes and is very serious. Just savin' you some time Wyman :-) But I will most likely ramble and end up w/ something funny...
So, I grew up w/ 2 dads. My parents split when I was, heck, I don't even remember really must have been like 7... 8 maybe? Maybe 10, I have no idea. My mom soon after re-married, and I had 2 dads. Having two father figures for a kid is pretty weird. You have two different ways of handling situations, you have two ways of discipline, in my case, two religious teachings (not far off, both Christians, just different approaches to it.) It's just weird, and it's hard for a kid to deal w/ two dads, ya love em' both, ya love em' different, and you don't want to disappoint either of them. They teach you all kinds of stuff, hunting, fishing, riding bikes, digging holes, fixing cars, balancing checkbooks, all kinds of stuff.
So Dad #1, my biological Father, Steve, Steve Woodall, born and raised in California. Up and moved to Denver when I was 2(?) then followed my Grandparents to Arkansas when I was 3(maybe 4) This is to the best of my recollection. He's a mechanic. And to say he's a mechanic is a bit misleading or understating what he does. When most people think of a mechanic they think of the guy who changes out their oil at Jiffy Lube. That's not my dad. My dad loves cars, more than just cars, automobiles.... engines, air planes, anything that can be propelled, started, or driven, he loves. He loves mechanical things, all of em'. I remember as a kid, he had model kits all the time, so, he's in his late 20s early 30s building model kits. And not just using the parts from the box, no, that would be too easy. He'd buy 2 or 3 model kits and customize the model. That Cobra Mustang needed a bigger engine, so he'd just build one. He'd cut out the top of the hood to make room for the blower. That's what he did, on the large and small level, he'd create and modify cars. If something didn't work right in the car, or he could think of a way it could be done better, he'd build it.
He was raised by the ol' "spare the rod, spoil the child"... so there was no rod spared in my house. He was a hell raiser. Loves loud cars, movies, and telling stories. I'm pretty sure I got my imagination from my grandmother and him.... both told me stories constantly. One of my favorite stories he'd tell was when he was a kid (about 5 or so) he and his brother ran away from home. Now my Grandfather, Bill Woodall, was a Baptist Preacher. So, he knew every one in town... well, my dad and his younger brother Mike decided to steal their dad's car and run away. So, Mike worked the peddles and my dad was steering the car. So, they didn't quite make it out of town, when a cop pulled them over. The cop knew who they were, but asked for their drivers licenses, and my dad not being the most PC guy in the 50s, says "We don't have any, we're midgets!" Needless to say, they were in pretty big trouble.
After my parents divorced, and even before then, I'd go to work w/ my dad. I hated it, hated everything about it. Hated the smell, the noise, hated getting all dirty, just hated it. I'd come home filthy, hands all banged up from sandblasting or grinding heads, or whatever. But I did learn a lot. I didn't want to, but I did. I learned the value of hard work, and getting a pay check. For the work I did, I'm sure I was extremely under paid. At 14 I was making $100 a week for about 60 hours of work. We'd get to work at 7, and leave at 7. And this isn't work like a normal person works. Picture hell, now take hell, and subtract the demons, add Fritz Lang's vision of Metropolis w/ giant gears and slave labor, and that's where I was working. It's easily 100 degrees on a "cool" summer day in Arkansas. Inside that place, with all the grinding and welding, and acid tanks, It had to be at least 110-120. But we had fans, fans to push the hot air around us. Where was I... oh yeah, I learned something. I leaned about working hard, and long hours, and not complaining (ha! Not complaining... like I'm doing now) And now when I hear people bitch about their jobs and how hard it is to do whatever their doing, I think back to being 14 and having my hands smashed, and sweating my ass off, and that my dad does that every day of his life, and he loves it. And I think... just be happy you're doing something you love, or even like.... cause it could be worse.
My other Dad, Chris Taylor, total opposite of my biological dad. From a well to do family. Born and raised in Arkansas, went to military school for most if not all of his high school years, went to College, a traditionally educated man. His family has a line of war heroes, his grandfather was good friends with Dwight D. Eisenhower... even taught him how to fly a plane. He died in the first wave of attacks in Pearl Harbor, he was the head of his squadron, one of his men had a faulty plane, so in stead of letting a less experienced pilot take the plane, he took it and went down shortly after.
Chris came into our lives at a really stressful time... I'm sure my brother and I didn't make it easy on him. He's a couple years younger than my mom, and here he was, around 24-26ish... taking a wife and 2 wild kids. I don't know if he knew what he was getting into, but he stuck around, and took on the roll of father to us. We were taken into the Taylor family with open arms. We were introduced to table manors... not saying we didn't have any before Chris came a long, but I'm pretty sure the napkin in the lap would have never crossed our minds before he came along.
Chris took us out of Arkansas. He'd taken a job with Wal-Mart. Now I know, boooo hissss... Evil Wal-Mart.... whatever. It clothed me, and put a roof over my head for almost 15 years, so I won't ever say a bad word about Wal-Mart. Anyway, if you want to get anywhere w/ the company, you've got to move, and take on new positions in new stores across the US. At least that's how I remember it being posed to us. I'm pretty sure they could have stayed in Stuttgart Arkansas for the rest of our lives, but we didn't, we moved to Radcliff KY, right next to Ft.Knox Army Base, then to Lawrenceburg KY, home to Wild Turkey Bourbon, then to Nashua NH , after that, I stopped following my parents, at 18 they gave me the choice, move with us to Virgina maybe, I'm not sure, or stay in NH w/ the job I had at Fruit of the Loom. I chose to stay.
Chris really raised me and taught me a lot. He was a little more lead by example, I did a lot of watching and learning. Even though, I'm not his flesh and blood, I've never doubted his love for me. He treats me as a friend and son. He's given me more than I could ever ask for. And if it weren't for him, I'm pretty sure I'd still be in some town in Arkansas, doing something completely different than what I'm doing now. Maybe just as happy, maybe not.
One thing I know, is these two dads shaped the person I am today, and for that I'll be forever grateful. I only hope I can be as good a dad to my kids as they were/are to me. I miss them both and think of them often, every time I turn on the radio, I can hear my dad (#1) singing along, or I smell steak and think of all the great food dad (#2) made on the grill.
posted by JohnRaygun at 8:33 PM
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