A Memory of Dad


Dad did not drink.  I remember him coming home from being at a house across the street, lying down on the living room floor, and falling asleep.  Dad was drunk, but it was not his fault.

Dad had helped the Italian family, who lived across the street, with some governmental papers.  To show his appreciation, the man invited Dad over for a drink.  Dad wanted to drink pop or juice, but the man insisted on his homemade wine.  Dad went along to be polite.  The man kept insisting Dad have more and more wine.  Dad did not want to offend him.

Dad managed to make it back across the street without falling.  It was early evening, and we were watching TV in the living room when Dad came in.  He went to the middle of the living room and gently laid himself down on the floor.  Soon he was asleep.

Mom tried to wake him, but Dad was dead to the world.  Mom left him on the floor, and we continued to watch television.  Dad sleeping on the floor did not interfere with us watching tv.  He did not snore, but he loudly farted a few times.  But Dad doing loud farts was not unusual.

We watched television until it was time for us to go to bed.  Dad slept on the floor all night.

I do not remember Dad being sick with a hangover the next day.  And Mom was not angry with him because she knew that getting drunk was not his fault.

I was luckier than some kids in the neighborhood.  Their fathers drank a lot, got drunk, and did nasty things.  But this was the only time I saw my father drunk.  And what did he do?  He slept on the living room floor, while we watched tv, and farted a few times.  I doubt whether his actions caused us any emotional or psychological damage.



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About the Author

I am Minnie and Chic's son.