Like a true southern working fellow, my father used some of the best metaphors I can recall. As brutally honest and reflective as they were, I knew he made the comments in jest. He would say things like, "Damn, son, you could fuck up a trainwreck." Once I learned not to take these types of off-color comments so critically, they would even evoke laughter out of me. It was only after he saw that his joke hadn't disrupted my mood, that he would laugh too.
As a child, I played soccer from the age of 6 up until I was 13 years old. For reasons I understand better now, I played better in defensive positions, as a halfback or fullback. I lacked motivation to create my teams' momentum, but found it extremely satisfying to disrupt the opponents' onslaught. Once, on a corner kick, my teammate actually bent the ball perfectly and I caught it with my left foot, right behind the goalie. I remember the experience was amazing. Im sure I over-celebrated the event. That night I couldnt wait to tell my dad about the "amazing" goal I scored that day.
What is important for me to imply here, is that my father had the dryest sense of humor of any other person that I have had the pleasure of meeting. When he made a joke, you were fortunate if you saw him smile. When you made a joke, you were gold if you got him to laugh. It should also be noted that my father only missed the game because of how many hours he worked as he slid further down the hole of retail management. Retail is honest work, but its long-term employees are bent in every direction until they reach the breaking point, and then theyre told their responsibilities will be less, as will their pay.
I told my dad about that goal that night. Frantically, I stumbled over my words in an attempt to display my excitement. My father then uttered a phrase that has stuck with me forever. It makes me smile everytime i think about it. After the 2 minute long, redundant recount i gave of the event, my father said, "Well a blind hog finds an acorn every now and then." He immediately went stone-faced as I believe he realized he said something that could possibly be hurtful to me. Instead, it took about 5 seconds for the euphemism to root itself in my brain, and i laughed uncontrollably.
My father, who realized my sense of humor had magically evolved in a short period of time, laughed with me. I will always remember this conversation with my father because with a handful of words, my father comedically introduced me to the fact that life would be rough, and that it was the small victories in life that I would have to embrace in order to appreciate life. My father was a man of few words. But sometimes less is more. And sometimes we get it right. Blind hogs and acorns and all.
