My Dad had been working on replacing our formica kitchen counter top ( 1973 ) I was twelve or so. My Folks went to dinner with my Aunt and Uncle, that left me and my Sisters at home with a babysitter.The counter top was almost finished, except the final edges. I thought I would surprise Dad with some handy work with a rasp. I got a little too aggressive and FCKED the whole thing up. Dad was not too happy with me, he's 86 and is doing really good! Love ya Pops !

Care to share a story ?

My dad pranked me by putting toothpaste on the earpiece of the phone and telling me there was a call for me. I picked it up and stuck toothpaste in my ear.

So, being ten, I thought it would be funny to use pump hand soap and put a half inch in each of his loafers.

He did not think that was funny, nor appropriate payback. Lol

My dad had a baseball he had signed by Joe Dimaggio when he met him in high school. I was 3 or younger and I swiped it off his dresser. I played with it wearing off the signature. He still has the old ball. In my defense I argued that he should have had it in a protective case.

Sassed mom when I was 14 only to turn around and meet dad face to face. He drug me down the hall to their room, closed the door grabbed me by the front of the shirt and slapped me so hard my ears are still ringing. Then pulled me nose to nose and calmly explained that if I ever talked to mom like that again, he'd beat me to within an inch of my life.

Curred

6 years old. My dad loved woodworking of any type. He spent a good three weeks on a beautiful book case and was so proud of it, putting it in the living room.

Next week I found one of his pocket knives and carved little designs on that damn bookcase. I was so proud of my work and couldn’t wait to show it off. When he saw it he reached for the first thing he could find…a long section from a Lincoln Log set and proceeded to beat the living hell outta me. My sweet mama, in her strong southern accent, said “Lawd Henry, ya gonna kill that boy!”

They’re both gone now, but that book case is in my house. Carvings still present.

rasp

Noted.

I think pretty much everything I did pissed my Dad off. He bought me luggage for high school graduation.

Breathe some days.

Must have been around "72" or so, he let me use the car one night, got raising hell with it and broke a brake line.

I managed to get it back to the house and was too afraid to tell him about it. The next morning, he was on his way to work, and managed to find himself and the car backed into the woods. Not impressed with me wouldn't even begin to describe it.

Set up a target for practicing with my bb gun. At the tender age of 8, I didn’t understand the concept of a backstop. Shot the hell out of the front windshield of the ‘59 Chevy.

I think just waking up did it most days

Report cards. Seems like every time I brought one home he'd have a load of wood to split, or 5 gallons of walnuts to hull. I remember bringing one in with failing grades. He asked me how it happened, and I replied I don't know. Wrong answer. He smacked the hell outta me grabbed me by the shirt collar buttons flying off everywhere. Thought he was gonna kill me. Got the business for smoking til he found out my mother was the one buying them for me. I sure do miss dad

Was into "science" early - got a "chemistry set" for Christmas, and then branched out. Figured out how to make a paste (precipitate) that, when dried, would oxidize really fast (bang and purple smoke). One summer day cut a bunch of small squares of light cardboard and put a blob of the paste on each - spread them out on the basement floor to dry.

Dad and I were watching a Phillies game that evening (early TV days) and between innings he went to the basement (barefoot) to get some ice cream from the freezer. You guessed it.

Bang, bang, bang and shouting and more bang, bang, bang as he hopped around trying to escape the unexpected and unknown devil beneath him. I ran to the top of the stairs, and down there he stood fuming in a cloud of light purple smoke - still stunned. It took a while for that one to settle.

LOL. I knocked my dads motorcycle over while climbing on it on the porch. It was loud and I panicked and considered running off then coming home later acting surprised and blaming the Gypsies again. Had previously gotten off the hook kicking a soccer ball through the window that way. But I froze and when he came bursting out to the porch he was relieved I hadn’t knocked it over on myself.

In your defense it was a backstop, although a poor choice

Had a step corksucker, didn’t have to do anything to get hurt. If he had a bad day, everyone was too

I would have a hard time listing all the things that set my dad off. He had a nasty temper at times, but could also be the funniest guy around at times. I'm not sure we ever did come to an agreement so we kind of just kept our peace between us the best we could and let it go at that... my three brothers had something to do with it, I'm sure, but they also had a tough time of it when it came to dad...

Set his Dodge Powerwagon on fire while jack lightning deer

1948…was born

Not long after my mom died my dad was lonely and started running around with anything that would talk to him. He had a bit of money and soon he brought home this woman who was obviously bad news and announced he was going to marry her. I did a bit of digging and found out she was pretty much the con artist from hell. I told my dad and he said he was going to marry her anyway. I told him that he was an idiot and she would clean him out. He told me to get the hell out of his house and never come back so I did.

Before he died she had cleaned him out just like I told him she would.

The main one I remember is when my younger brother and I sharpened all his flat screwdrivers on a grindstone. You couldn't screw a screw into styrofoam with them when we finished! We thought Dad would be proud at what a great job we did!

Went mud running in his International Scout. I took it to the car wash and washed it good. Turns out I forgot to clean the engine compartment. He was not a happy camper when he looked under the hood. Luckily, he didn't kick m azz.

Ron

Got the old man's Ford buried so bad, it "leaked" mud every time it rained for 6 months.

The angriest I've ever seen my dad was when some of us little kids caught a snake and put it in bleach to see if it would turn white. I still feel like s h it about it.

Totaled my Mom's '79 T-Bird 4 hours after I passed my drivers license test. Let's just say I didn't drive again for another year.

He drove me by the accident site on the way to church every Sunday for a year also to remind me of my fugg up. I didn't do much right back then.

My mother wrapped my lunch in a road map my senior year.

As others have said.


Some days all it seemed to take was my existence. Or that of my siblings, because we didn't rat on each other so many times the whole tribe got punished.

I use to go to a neighboring farm and a get 5 gallon can of milk about once a week. We had a 52 Chevy station wagon which was our only car. Crossing a small bridge and a tight left turn,I shifted to 2nd, must have popped the clutch too fast and snapped an axle.

Dad had to go to work that night. He was on midnight to eight shift and told me I had to get it fixed by 11 PM. Missing work was not an option.
The neighbor had a small dump truck that he backed up to the Chevy and raised the bed. We chained the back of the Chevy to it and he dropped the bed enough to get the back end of the Chevy off the ground and towed it home about a half mile. This was when bumpers were real bumpers.

I didn't even have my license yet as I was 15, neighbor was 16. He took me down to a local junk yard and we pulled an axle out of another 52 Chevy and brought it home .Those old Chevys ,you had to pull the differential cover off and free the axle to pull it. I forget whether it was a bolt or pin. Then you needed a puller to pull the axle.We turned the brake hub around and used it, having enough play in the wheel studs to use it as a hammer puller.
This was in the winter, we had no garage and there was about 6 "of snow on the ground . How I saved the differential fluid and got it back in I don't know. I do remember cutting a new gasket out of some gasket paper for the cover.

Dad would come out every once in awhile to check progress and hurry me up. He never yelled at me, but told me he had best not be late for work. We lived from pay check to pay check and missing one day was very bad. I finished at about 10:30. I went in and told him the car was fixed. He got up, put his coat on and left. I think he was afraid to say anything and lose his temper as he never struck one of us kids. Later years,I realized how smart he was and how hard he worked to provide for us. I never popped a clutch again.

I was born with a very large noggin.

I understand that all too well.
Can't say I ever pissed my Dad off, but I sure said things that hurt him inside. Could read it in his eyes. And I regret it today.
It was my stupid comments that had to do with our family being dang near destitute my entire childhood.

No time to just sit and fish... or watch me play ball.
Thought he just did not want to be around me.

Not me, but my sister:
While Dad was asleep, she painted his toenails red.
Somehow he got dressed for work without noticing.
His co-workers, however, did notice, in the shower room at the end of his work shift at the Mobil oil refinery.
LOL!
He came home mad as a hornet, and proceeded to chase Sis around the house, cussing a blue streak...
... until the queen mother of charlie horses dropped him like a bad habit.
Double LOL!!

I was in the 6th grade when this kid wouldn’t give me my basketball back. So, I thought the best way to solve the problem was to beat the crap out of him. I ended up breaking his nose. The kid had more friends than me. After I was sent to detention, they all ratted me out for a bunch of other dumb stuff to our teacher, who hated me. One of those things was taking a pack of pencils. So, that night, when my dad got the call about me beating up the kid and taking the pencils, he was so angry his son was now a thief.

Talked

Spring of my Senior year in High School.

Mom and Dad finally figured out I had not sat for my "Senior Photo". I had decided school photos were a waste of money which the family could ill afford.

Oh. crap!

lololol

He would routinely send me into the tool room to find something. It drove him nuts when I couldn’t find whatever is was.

The ol boy has a real affection for his grass. Run over his grass and he will kick your ass. I even caught hell when my friends ran over the grass. Former girlfriend of mine ran over the grass when it had frost on it, which leaves marks for a few weeks or so. I really caught grief for that. I actually bucked up a bit on that instance. First and last time I did so.

You couldn’t have melted me and poured me onto my Dad!! Why? Because I respected him! Not only that but he’d have kicked my ass to a fair you well!

Same for my brother and me.

But in the ‘60’s

Tore up his 65 Nova drive to work car after he told me the roads were slick & the tires were bad, so just drive it to class & come straight home.


But the worst I can think of, was when I was sitting directly across the supper table from him & I showed him a big long vein hanging out of a chicken thigh. He smacked me plumb out of my chair & told me I wasn't raised like that.

Never forgot my table manners again, or at least till I left home.

My old man was abusive but not as bad as his dad, so to him he apparently didn't think he was at all but he'd beat the hell out of us over dumb [bleep], some deserved but nowhere needing what he'd dish out. I remember my mom telling me to get a shower but I was watching a movie that was on the television. I apparently ignored her so my dad told me to get in the damn shower. Apparently he thought I gave him the stink eye because he beat the hell out of me and would absolutely lose his mind after he started. It's like he started having flashbacks of his whippings from his old man and he'd lose it further until mom would pull him off. I remember a time that my older brother was about 8 and my dad had given him a "Hooker Header" sticker that must have come with something that he bought but my brother had done something to get grounded so he thought he'd give the sticker back to my dad to hurt his feelings or something (8 year old logic I guess.) The old man beat the absolute [bleep] out of him for that based on principle. I look back and think of how [bleep] petulant you'd have to be as a grown man to do that kind of [bleep] to your kids and promise to not be the same to mine. In a way I feel sorry for him.

Everything about us kids pissed him off but what got us the worst ass beatings was when we tried to stop him from beating our mom.

Dad used to box me up right good when I did something/anything stupid...

Otherwise... I had a fairly free exploration of adventure.

BUT then I did something else stupid... and I got my ass handed to me again.

Dad is gone 27 months now... and I finally free to be as stupid as I want.

Damn I miss him.

Chucked his smoky robinson 8 track out the window one night

I would have killed him.

In the late 1960s, chasing a coyote across a western Ks pasture in dads pick up. Hit a gully and tossed the battery into the fan and radiator. The battery, fan and radiator sustained a lot of damage. Dad was pretty pissed.

But in reading lots of the other posts here where dad was beating mom, or routinely treated his kids poorly, or ignored them, our dad never did any of that nor have I nor has our son.
I was lucky. Dad was great.

I took my new Swiss Army knife I’d got by saving and sending off Skoal lids out of the trash cans at his gas station and poked two holes through the vinyl on the seat of his 1985 Honda 250SX three wheeler. Just two tiny slits but boy was he pissed.

Then there was the time he caught me burning the ancient and very dry pull rope on our ancient and very dry wooden detached garage. I was just watching the fuzzies on the rope curl and puff off but was probably seconds or minutes away from disaster. Got a hiding over that one too.

Chopped his sawhorses back into 2x4s with a shingling hatchet. I think he was going to beat my ass until I saw him coming when I was in mid swing and missed only to whack myself in the kneecap with the hatchet. He asked if it was bleeding, it wasn’t much, and said “serves you right and you better not start crying”.

These were all before I was 8 and there were many more instances. Thankfully by the time I was a teenager I had figured out that he was a pretty smart guy and maybe I should take his advice, we’ve been best friends ever since.

Us boys got hell from The Old Man a lot, usually we deserved it.
I don’t remember him being really mad at any of us though.
I remember he had a fire going in deer season, and Dave and I were there talking to him. Six deer came off the hill and stopped about 50 feet from us.
Dave and I both shot at the same time, trouble was we shot the same deer! Dad was pissed about that! He said we shoulda had two or three. Of course his gun was leaning against a tree!
One time I come home a little drunk. I got up in the morning and my car was locked up, no keys.
When I asked him he give me hell for driving in the “shape you was in last night”.
My car had never left the driveway. I rode with a buddy.
When Mom told him that, I got the keys back, and a stern warning about boozing and cruising.
But I can’t honestly recall him being mad at any of us that wasn’t deserved, and he never stayed mad.
Mom, on the other hand...
7mm

Every time I had a fight with by brother. According to my dad, I always start the fights.

My Dad and I did not get along at all growing up. They GAVE my sister anything she wanted and I had to work like a dog for anything I wanted/needed. Come to find out that was later in life called a work ethic. My sister turned into a POS and my Dad and I are best friends. I can never thank him enough for teaching me the value of hard work and that if you give a man your word then you damn well better keep it.

Let the neighbor borrow his needle nose pliers on a hot Monday afternoon in August.

Bummed to hear of those reporting abusive dads. I had a great dad. I was fortunate.

Rubber snake in the doorway. He HATED snakes..........

It was the last time i lied to him.

When i woke up i came to the understanding that i would live longer to listen closely to the questions he asked and don't volunteer anything.

Has worked for most of my life ever since.

I also had a great Dad but boy was he pissed when the darts I was throwing into the air conditioner grid punctured the freon lines.

I can’t even imagine what it’s like to experience that. I feel bad for those that had to go through that type of abuse from the people that are supposed to love you unconditionally.

I only seen my Dad mad a couple times , and that’s a good thing. One of those times is when I burned the transmission up in his truck.

Ha ,Did the same thing with a ball autographed by Whitey Ford, Pitcher for the New York Yankees..
The SandLot 1965...

Between my older brother and I we aggravated Dad daily Im sure. Considering his military experiences he was always surprisingly even tempered and slow to get actually mad. We learned early on that when he was pushed to the point that an "F-bomb" was dropped it was time to stop whatever you were doing to anger him and slink away for awhile. While not easily angered he didnt hesitate to snatch one of us up usually for being disrespectful to Mom.

He did completely beat the hell out of one of my sisters ex boyfriends who made the mistake of physically trying to push Mom out of the doorway when she was blocking the doorway and said he couldnt come in. Dad leaped out of the recliner, cleared the living room in like 2 bounds, tackled the fool out the doorway and off the front porch and was straddling him on the ground just pummeling away with punches till I managed to pulled him off. Dudes face was all battered up and he threatened to come back with a gun. Dad said go ahead, but I guarantee you the boys and I have you outgunned and we know how to use them! That was the last time we ever saw that clown!

That's easy.....just piss off mom.

When my brother was little he had a set of toy plastic keys that he carried around. One day he came in the house and told my dad that he broke off one of the keys in the lock of my dad's car door. My dad was laying on the couch and leaped up and ran out the door to check on his car. It was an easy fix, but dang my dad was angry

Lots….but at about 8 or 9 I got a new bow and some real aluminum arrows….big time styling in my Oshkosh B’gosh overalls and a Rambo type bow. I launched that very first shiny aluminum shafted arrow from grandpa’s house, an acre away, all the way into our shiny new aluminum siding on our brand new house. Dad got home from work and I quietly broke the news figuring that I just need to get ahead of this catastrophe and control the narrative….honesty is the narrative because parents like that stuff. I didn’t know that aluminum arrows were so easily broken over a grown man’s knee but it would be years before I went back from wood to aluminum…..when I could afford it a few years later we used to fill the hollow shafts black powder and try to get it to explode on impact….made for exciting “experiments” that almost always ended in a fizzle. 😂

Such simpler times.

PS…my dad never spanked us kids. He said that he was too big to be hitting kids but he had mom and mom was a pro.

Not holding the flashlight in the right spot when working on the car. Handing him the wrong wrench before I learned the sizes and how to read fractions. Don’t know what made me keep crawling under the car with him, cause I always caught a knuckle or screwdriver handle to the top of the head for not paying attention. He didn’t get mad about much else and always remembered when he was a boy and was just a learning as he put it.

Didn't help your spelling much.

All the spandex didn't help I'm sure.

Being born put me high his chit list.

Bringing an air rifle into the house. Dad hated it to have guns within his premises.

Way too many to list. One was honking the horn while he was working under the hood.

Absolutely nothing that I was ever aware of. We never had a cross word .

A good friend of mine's mother had a dad that occasionally beat on her mother (my friend's grandmother). One day she'd had enough of seeing her mother beaten and took a knife to the father while he was in the process of beating her mom. She finished it and mom wasn't beaten any more. Good riddance to bad trash.

You and I both.

We were like two peas in a pod, we got along brilliantly.

A entire suitcase full of Spandex yet.

No father wants a whiney little bitch for a son that sets on his bike in the middle of the road, taunting cars while begging to move to a HOA neighborhood so he can tell his neighbors what to do.

Growing up boy did I have some great times. Dad had a load of wood dropped off at the house big ol ponderosa pine rounds wasn’t split. My dad tasked with me splitting it, I got like half of it done hey I was 12 or 13lol. Anyhow he gets home that night from work, gets me out of bed asks why I didn’t get all the wood split. I apparently didn’t give a good reason and he beat the chit out of me for not splitting all the wood that day. Talk about rude awakening.

Not many times I had (step)Dad really mad.

No stand out examples.

Be beat my ass, daily for awhile, but with a belt and justly.

There were a few times I scared him bad. Stupid kid stuff when we
were running equipment or felling trees. Yep, remember the time
he got a saw pinched and I carried him another one. I walked right under
the leaning cut tree. Was about 12, he picked me up by my hair and shook me.

I can't imagine it either.

My sister had a friend who's husband would beat on her every now and then. One day he was drinking heavily beat her and stuck a loaded shotgun in her mouth and was told she was going to die.

When my dad found out he went over to their house beat the hell out of the guy took the same shotgun loaded it and stuck it in the guys mouth and told him that if he ever bothered Bonnie again or if he ever heard of him beating another woman that he was going to die.

He moved out of town as soon as the divorce was done.

I was 13 years old at the time and remember it well.

I asked my father how to calculate how much pressure a handi rifle can take with 45/70 handloads...

I asked my father how he knows that thin wall barrel steel stress: S= [inside diameter][pressure]/4 [wall thickness]


And then my father screamed at me, "BY INSPECTION!"

He was disappointed I didn't just see that.

My dad was easy going unless me or my brother pissed our mom off, that is when the crap would hit the fan

I got my ass whipped a lot. I deserved it.

RIP dad.

Lie. If I did something bad, I got fairly punished. If I lied about something, I got hammered. Dad did not tolerate a liar.

Brewery in the area put out 16oz bottles in the summer months. Dad would drink half, put the cap back on and put it back in the fridge to finish off after getting done with what ever yard project he was doing. I was 16 or 17 and got the bright idea of finishing off the beer and putting water in the bottle. He came in swigged it down and got so made he turned red and started my way. Mom was laughing so hard she was crying and he saw her and settled down.

I swiped 2 dimes off thr neighbors washing machine so I could buy a bag of Doritos. For that i got my ass whipped with one of those old fashioned fan belts that were made of little strips of rubber all riveted together. That was probably the worst one. It's certainly the most memorable.


I got a few such whippings, but never considered myself abused.

Lying was at the top of the list, but like some here, it didn't take much to get the old man flying into a violent, abusive rage. When I was around 4 he broke two of my fingers with a metal serving spoon for reaching across the dinner table to grab a french fry or something. Nice guy. Wee Muther kept the two of us home from early grammar school on a number of occasions because the angry welts left by his double-grommeted belt and buckle were so obvious from his vicious and occasionally prolonged beatings.

When I was 12 and living in Tokyo he knocked out a front tooth with his shod foot after laying me low with a right hand. This for smoking and lying about it. Soon after, following another beating, with blood running out of my nose and mouth, I looked at him dead in the eyes and quietly told him that I was done being abused and that the next time he raised his hand at me or my brother, I'd do my damndest to not only defend myself, but to kill him. He never beat us again. Good thing, because my threat was as serious as a heart attack.

I love my dad, despite his being an abusive, cruel bastard to me and my brother when we were young. If nothing else, I learned that actions can have consequences, and that a man is only as good as his word-- and any threats he poses. If you don't follow through on them even once, you just might get called on them. I've only told a few people that I'd kill them if they didn't do -------, but every time, I meant it.

Fun thread.

Pops only whipped me once. Caught me playing around in his tackle box after warning me several times that a whipping was next.

Won't near as bad the ass beatings my mother would hand out.

There were days I couldn't wait for Pop to get home from work and save my skinny azz from Mom.

Mom was the one with the trophy collection of broken wooden spoons for sure.

These comments are interesting, I never had a father, never have know who my father was, no one in my family ever told me, i was raised by my Grandparents, but i did have a stepfather, who was a drunk, who beat the crap out of me when ever he felt like it, i stayed away from my mother and him as much as i could, when i turned 19 yrs old my mother asked me to come to thanksgiving dinner, when i got there my stepfather was drunk, and abusive, I beat Schitt, out of him, mom stopped me from killing him, i never went back, mom called about 29 years later and said he died last night, i said what you want me to say ? i'm sorry? bury the S.O.B. later in life my mom and me became good friends, happy ending to a sad story. Rio7

The one that comes to mind (among many) was when I was about 10 or 11. My dad grew up on a farm and there was a lot of farmer left in the man that became a doctor. We had gardens all over town. Besides the one in the backyard, all 3 of us kids had to sign up for 4H and get a plot every year. When all of the 4H plots had been allocated, Dad would take any "acreage" left over and we would plant, water and weed all summer. Anyway, this particular year we had a bumper crop of onions. I have no idea how many bushels, but I remember that we had many tables piled with onions in our two stall garage and more piled on the floor. Each day, all of us kids were given a task list that was required to be finished by the time our parents got home from work. I was tasked with "cutting the tops off all of the onions". (I put that in quotes because that phrase was a point of contention the rest of my life). So, a friend and I got the biggest kitchen knives we could find and hacked away at the onions, severing the tops and throwing them in the garbage. After a while the tears started to flow as the garage filled with onion vapor, and I am guessing that it probably took us a couple of hours to finish. Then, task completed, we went on with our day. I remember getting home that evening shortly after my Dad got home from work and it was obvious that he was really pissed. Apparently his version of the instructions were that the tops were supposed to be cut off at a sufficient length so that the onions could be hung in batches to dry and used as needed. Well, that wasn't the version I heard and I will go to my grave remembering what I was told. It mattered not, as now we had bushels and bushels of onions that had to be used immediately or they would rot. I cannot remember if I got a few swats during the pre-sentencing hearing following the discovery phase of a very short trial, but I do remember that I peeled onions the rest of that night and the following days and nights until they were all used up. We made pickled onions, onion rings, salsa and anything else there was that contained onions and could be canned or frozen until every one of the thousands of onions was used up. To this day I cannot stand anything that contains onions, though I will force myself to eat onions in order to be polite if someone else has cooked a dish or a meal.

Anytime I had to hold the flashlight for him while he worked on stuff. I felt like a moron. Not great memories for me. Wish they would have had headlamps easily available then

Make noise while he was watching Hee Haw...guaranteed backhand to the head.

Bad grades, taking his tools, stealing his whiskey, wrecking his cars. My dad got mad a lot but I certainly deserved it!

Some of you guys had bastards for dads, but some of you did some pretty stupid shit.

A syringe of cold water in the ear when he was down with the flu produced stunning results.

My father lived and died with numbers.

He asked me what he was doing in the hospital.

I said, "By the time the identified your pneumonia pathogen, your heart was twice its size,.. and you are 90 years old."

He screamed at me, "90? what do you mean 90?"

He had told them 65 at hospital check in.

When I saw them raising the painkiller and lowering the Oxygen, I knew the hospital had decided on killing him.

Or the ice cream pail on his head.

Smart man, his dad.

I found at around age 6 that if you take a 15/16” end wrench and throw it like a boomerang it will knock a bunch of the fluffy dandelions down with each throw. Wouldn’t have hurt anything if I hadn’t left the wrench in the neighbor’s yard when I was done. Mr Rowan knocked on the door and held up the MAC wrench with dad’s initials electropenned right beside the big gouge from the lawnmower blade and calmly asked if it was his. He wasn’t real happy with the whole situation and I wasn’t either when he got done with his “explanation”.

Friend Pat, noted on the onions and thanks to you and others for sharing your tales of woe.

Just for clarification for the next time we feast, does your understandable abhorrence involve all onions, or only yellow or red varieties? Scallions, leeks and chives on the no-go list too, or only orbs?

RIO7, well played and good on you for standing up for yourself in the face of an impossible situation.

My dad was on my ass from the start.
I think he might have gotten nice occassionally around age 75.
Just the way his dad was.
Treat kids like chit and grandkids like gold.

Oh well.

im only half the azzhole my dad was.
Gotta admit, the meanest and most azzhole people Ive met in and out of work, fail to get me wound up.
Because I grew up w worse.


When they have a tirade and you just laugh and or tell em to fugg off...... it's pretty funny

What's the saying - Raise the kids and spoil the grandkids. Spoil the kids, you end up raising the grandkids...

Eh, was just the way the immigrants were I reckon.

Which time?

I would count you as one of the few people in this world that I could sit down at a table laden with raw onions, eat for hours and come away saying I enjoyed the experience.

Either wrecking his pickup or screwing up something on the farm. Both had explosive results. I have an amazing father. I now appreciate the tough love moments from my youth.
I'm sorry to hear of some of the bad fathers that some of you endured. Good fathers is the missing ingredient in our society right now.

When I was around 13 I shot a fox with a NIB pre-'64 Winchester 70 in 257 Roberts. It was the only rifle that I could find ammo for, so it was the rifle that I used. He was very pissed, but the following saturday we went to The Green Store in North Haverhill, NH, and left with a Remington 788 in 22-250 with a 6x Redfield scope and mounts. I shot that rifle for a couple years, then traded it toward a more practical Remington 660 in 222.

Had a great upbringing from 2 fine parents.

That's not to say, we 3 boys didn't get into trouble & face the fair consequences.

I think, the angriest I made him, was when I was about 14 & we were camping for the holidays.

He was sitting in a lawn chair, on the beach drinking a cold beer, as I came up from the boat, feeling cocky about the 2 nice spotted mackeral (I thing you guys call them spanish macks) I'd caught.

When he asked me, how the fishing was, I slapped him in the side of the head, with 1 of the fish & said, "how'd you think" !!

That didn't end well !

But I'm smilin like heck, reliving the story.

My thoughts exactly, especially the bastard dads.

All kids, especially boys, do stupid shít, but I’m amazed by some of the dad responses.

Damn.




P

It made me a better person I think. I done everything I can not to be him. I never spanked/whipped my daughter or two step sons. I never borrowed money from anyone, well my buddy did spot $20 bucks one time. Never been on government assistance, never had eviction notices. Always had money for food, gas etc. I had a very successful career in the Army etc. I strived not to be my dad, I think I done an ok job. One step-son is an engineer the other step-son works as a drafter. My daughter just got accepted into UAA/ISU pharmacy program. I owe majority of this to my very patient wife helping me along the way.

The older I get the smarter my dad gets.

It's funny - I was always very close to my grandfather, my dad's dad. Now that my dad's getting to the age I remember my grand father being - I've noticed similarities. I'll often call my dad by his dad's name. He gets agitated but it's a huge compliment - he's learning that....

That should be a fortune cookie:)

Did that happen in August in the north end of the Central Valley?

I might be pissed too

I'd give him a pass for putting some leather belt stripes on you for that one.

My first car was a lifted bronco II on bald mud tires. Had a drivers license for all of 2 months. Summer was over and it had just rained for the first time. I got a big talk about how the roads are goona be slick...yadayada whatever. 5 miles later I try an turn off the highway at 60mph and slide through a ditch and into a field. Call dad up and he had some opinions, thats for sure. While waiting for him to come pull me out, the cops showed up. Seen I was just a dumb kid and didnt wreck anything but my own crap so they left. I woulda paid money for them to hang out until dad got there. He was so mad he couldnt even talk

When I was about 13 I got sent to my room for a belting. I stuffed c9mic books down my pants before he got there. He came in and gave me three or four whacks and stopped and asked me wth? That pissed him off even more, and I had erroneosly thought he'd have a sense of humor about it. Boy, was I wrong! Got it without pants, and got it good.

My stepdad was a religious azzhole snd thumped on me often. I was also a small sized kid. He was mad about something and came at me and i figured a 35 yard field goal attempt with his nuts was a good idea.

Mom finally got off her azz to do something, got between us. He never touched me again.

Hes been gone a decade. Good riddance hypoc
rite fuggin dweeb.

Told my grandma when I was 6 i didnt like the bastard. Proly used that word too.

Me and grammy were cool. She did switch me for catching a humming bird in butterfly net when i was in kindergarten. That about it from her.

I didn't get in a lot of trouble but I learned early on via one of the old style military belts that when my dad said you can do anything you want if you don't get caught. He meant you better not get caught.

Ballsy, lol.

You deserved what you got and you deserve the right to look back on it and laugh.

Nothing.
Why would anyone deliberately do something to make their Dad or Mom for that sake mad at you?
Always wanted them to be proud not pissed but that's just me I guess.

I think the most intense beating I ever got was when we were at a camper dealership outside of town and I stuck my tongue out at the owner. I don't remember who told my dad but when I got home I got the belt.

Dad was very strict and never swore. I've been swearing since 2nd grade of Catholic school. He was a much better man than I.

LOL

My dad would say "every time you turn the lights on, it costs a nickle!". So I'd go over to a light switch and flick it on and off saying "5, 10, 15, 20, 25..." lol! The sound of his belt going through the belt loops on his jeans got my attention!

LOL

I didn’t have a great home life. My dad beat my mom in front of me and my brother until she divorced him when I was five. I rarely saw him after that. He’s 5’9” I saw him after not seeing him for a few years shortly after my 15th birthday and was already 6’3” 200 pounds. I picked an argument and told him that I was bigger and was going to beat his azz. Idk if I could have or not being still a kid but he didn’t know either. I ran my mouth and told him everything I had to say while he back peddled to his truck and left. I’ve seen him once since at my grandmothers funeral 12 years ago. We were civil but haven’t spoke since.

For whatever shortcomings I have in life working hard to be successful and being the best father and stepfather that I can be have always been the two things that I take the most pride in. To my dads credit my mother always told us that our dad wasn’t a great husband or father but was always a hard worker.

There was many , but I guess the chicken was a good one .
We lived at a place called chicken hill .
Cause it was old chicken houses converted to houses .
On the far side lived this Cherokee family .
The man was full Cherokee and his wife half .
Anyway I hung out over there a lot and he liked me and would tell me stories .
So one day he says here I made this for you .
It was a bow and couple arrows .
Wasn’t to impressed at first till he showed me how to shoot it .
He told me the process of making it , but don’t recall now .
Any way J had just enough ass to draw it enough to shoot through a card board box .
No broad head , I think the tip was fire hardened of something like that .
Anyway , now I’m amped up and going to get me a rabbit.
There was a big area of cedars on the side of the hill . I hunted my ass off and the only thing in the cedars was the old lady next doors chickens .
So not having any kills under my belt , I thought you shoot the critter and it falls dead , quietly, wrong !
Stalked them till I was a couple feet , drawed and fired that arrow .
I don’t know what the odds were that I would connect , but connect I did .
That’s when I got introduced to reality .
That friggin thing didn’t just quietly fall dead , it went to flopping and squawking and the other chickens flushed , squawking and flew into the ole woman’s yard .
Gathering attention, and the stuck chicken was flopping around raising all sorts of hell , I’m freaking out .
Finally it goes hobbling and squawking into her yard and being a dumbass kid I was chasing it till I came face to face with the ole lady .
Froze in my tracks , she’s glaring at me and I break run back into the cedars .
I’m hiding wondering what to do .
So it’s getting toward dark and I slip around the hill we’re she can’t see me , hide the bow and arrows under the porch .
When I went in , dad was setting there half drunk and pissed .
Where’s that [bleep] bow ?
What bow ?
At the top of his lungs
You better get that [bleep] bow in here now !
I knew not to say what bow again and dashed out the door and got it , handed it to him he broke the arrows over his knee and ripped the strings from the bow .
Arrows, bow in one hand and me by the nape of the neck in the other he marched over to the ole woman’s house ,arms crossed she stared on while seeing her justice being dealt .
Don’t remember what it cost besides some bruises and welps , but we was all poor folks and a chicken wasn’t to be taken lightly .
Old Indian came over and talked to dad a few days later , but didn’t change nothing .
Except ole man started getting his liquor fir him .
Kenneth
Didn’t proof read , fugg the spelling

I always knew that I’ve grown up surrounded by love and kindness and while I deserved and received discipline it was never over the top. Reading some of the experiences of others growing up and the discipline (abuse) they received is heartbreaking.

For those of you that suffered abuse (not discipline) at the hands of your father and have stopped that cycle in your family I applaud you! The self determination required to not repeat the cycle of abuse that you suffered is an amazing and HEROIC testament to YOUR goodness! God bless you guys that broke that cycle…..that’s what a REAL MAN looks like!

I remember being 12 or 13, being sent to my room and waiting for my dad to come in and beat me.

He walked in and I told him if he hit me, I was coming back at him and while he could probably beat me pretty good, he was gonna find out how strong my skinny ass was. He walked out and I never got in that scenario again.

My dad and I had a decent relationship after I lived away from home for 8 or 9 years.

That was pretty slick.

Mine was pretty simple, had pulled a motor and tranny out of a corvair spider and my pos brother in law started talking scrap to me. Dad wanted us to get it down an outside cellar way into his workshop. I was about 13 and the pos was about 28 and as we got down the first steps he started again. I shoved him and the motor and tranny down the steps. Walked away and started up the street. Was about a half a block away when my dad grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around. Only remember stars and waking up with a broken nose and 2 black eyes.

My stepdad mixed canned dog food with ground beef and fed it to my brother and then taunted him about eating dog food. He beat my brother and beat me once with the rubber stop on the end of his cane that he was using for a faked personal injury suit.

He didn’t like that I was listening to Rush on the radio. I was 16 at that time and broke three of his ribs and lacerated his kidney. He was sent to the ER in an ambulance after driving himself to an urgent care. The police got involved. My face was a bruised mess from the rubber stop. Now a days he’d been arrested rather I wanted to press charges or not. I chose not to press charges. My mom told me that I would be out on the streets if I did.


The lead cop was really cool. I told him I was scheduled to be to work at a local family restaurant that I washed dishes at but was to embarrassed to go to work covered in bruises. He called the restaurant in front of me and without saying as much lead them to believe that I had been in a car accident and would be back to work in a few days but to expect some bruises when I came back.

I had to to testify that my step dad was severely injured IMO from his fall/faked lawsuit that he and my mother planned. I threatened not stick with the narrative my mother threatened to kill herself and that I could go to foster care for the next two year.

I spent a good chunk of my early years living in a trailer park and not always having electricity until Salvation Army paid the bill. Teased for having off brand shoes and such.

I’d never feel comfortable talking about these things with coworkers or with all but a few of my very closes long time friends but the fire and being somewhat unknown makes it easier and a form of therapy:)

I was blessed to have amazing grandparents that lived out of town and didn’t know what was going on. I spent most of my summers with them riding quads, learning to scout deer, train bird dogs, shoot guns and fish with. That’s always been my refuge.

Truth be told probably a lot of us have similar or worse stories. I had a drug issues after getting out on my own it hasn’t always been smooth but I’ve made a lot more good choices than bad. I have great kids my wife and I have a less than perfect marriage but we’re together and we’re stable we live a solid middle to upper middle class lifestyle. That’s my American Dream. I hope that are kids take it up a notch.

I’ve said way more than I started to when first commenting on this thread but fug it.

My respect for you men that overcame serious hurdles and poor examples of parenting have my ultimate respect! To be the MAN to break the cycle of abuse and neglect is harder than most people realize. You guys are excellent examples of good overcoming evil…

My dad's step brother was horrible to his kids, he would hit them like he was fighting another man, punch them, knock them down, kick them, etc. Most of his kids left home as soon as they could and a few of them never attended family get togethers or holidays. I often wonder how many of them treated their children the same way later on in life

This thread has been on my mind all day. I had no idea there would be this many examples of abusive fathers. Aces thoughts echo my own.

There were many, but I think what pissed my father off the most was surviving birth.

Dad never realized every nut and washer was a sinker. Also using those needle nose pliers made me one of the fishing pro’s on tv.

He had a saying I still use today…..”I’m going to go out there and take a dump in the road and see who comes along to move it.”

Love and miss you Dad!

Amen, sir!

Well said, Aces !!

Well done boyz !

Some of us thought we had it bad growing up, then we learn we had it pretty dam good. My dad only hit me one time, with his belt, and I definitely deserved it then and more times. It's one of only 2 times I saw him cry.

My heart goes out to those that were abused. I'm surprised how many Mom's were the disciplinarian, heck my Mom never yelled at me.