Nineteen eighty something.

As I was sitting next to my 3 year old daughter last night, I watched how she skillfully maneuvered her way through all the apps on my phone to find her game. I have trouble finding the app I need and here she is just flying through them.

When i was her age, the year was 1982. Average monthly rent was $320.00, gas was .91cents, a sony 19 inch color tv was $499 and the biggest selling album of all time, Thriller, came out by Michael Jackson. Comparing life for 3 year old me vs 3 year old her is apples to oranges. Cell phone, what’s that? Google? Ours was called the Britannica Encyclopedia. The only app people heard of was applications for a job. Our games where played on a flimsy piece of cardboard while hers is on a 6 by 3 inch phone.

The other day I noticed a book mobile in one of the parking lots. Kids going in and out, with or without a book in hand. Growing up, I visited the book mobile a few times. It parked right outside our apartment building. Now when i say i visited the book mobile, it wasn’t for books. It was to delay the whoopin or what not that i had waiting for me. lol

I laugh because as soon as we walk through the door, my daughter kicks off her shoes and goes looking for the remote like it owes her money. Once she finds it, shes like a damn cable technician, flipping through the channels with ease. The only time i could find the remote growing up was by looking in the mirror. At the time, you had to change the channels with the dial. And god forbid you only had bunny ears cause then you were the remote AND the antenna.

I always wondered why kids of today can’t pass their classes. The information they need is at their finger tips. It’s not like they have to a library and look through the Index to find a book that may or may not have the information you need ripped out of the damn book.

It’s crazy how there are about 2 generations that have no idea how to make a book cover or a paper Fortune Teller. The other thing I find crazy is how these kids need a safe space, or can’t watch or talk about certain events because they might get “triggered”. Really? We watched a damn space shuttle blow up, live on tv. We didn’t get a safe space. We got ready for lunch lol. We were taught how to hid under our desk to shield us from broken flying glass in the event of a bomb being dropped by our friends in the USSR. Now they’re taught how to shield themselves from an active shooter. Kinda fucked up huh.

I’ll write more later, I’m off to bed.

Bobby your dad is here

Back in the 80s I was a young buck in elementary school. I went to a catholic school called JFK and like most catholic schools, it sucked.

Now I’m not going to say I was a terrible student, but I wasn’t the best either. I was hit in the hand with a ruler just once by our Nun, but once was all i needed. School in the 80s were different times. Your parents couldn’t just hop on a computer and see your grades on a portal. Teachers couldn’t email or text your parent about your behaviors or being tardy. Hell, the only way they could get in touch with you or your parents was to call the home phone. Hopefully you were lucky enough to get the phone before they did.

Every night my mom would ask me if I had homework. Nope, no homework today. Really, who wants to do homework or study when you could turn on WGN and watch the Cubs with your dad? We weren’t allowed to do anything when we got home except do homework. Again, for some strange reason, I never had homework.. well, at least i didn’t bring it home. So as I’m sitting watching the Wonder Years, staring at my crush Winnie Cooper, in the back of my young mind all I could think of is the homework that wasn’t at home.

Let’s fast forward to parent teacher conferences. While my dad and mom were talking to my teachers, i was at home waiting to hear the deathly sound of the door unlocking, knowing the ass whoopin that was about to come. And come that ass whoopin sure did. Not only did I get acquainted with my dads belt, foot, hand, Nintendo (yes he got me with a Nintendo lol) but i was also blessed by his presences in school.

“Bobby your dad is here” is what i heard as I was coming out of the cafeteria. And wouldn’t you know it, there was my old man, standing in the doorway at the top of the steps. Now for you young kids, parents were allowed to be in the school to handle their kids in the 80s. We didn’t have a “safe space” like you snowflakes have now. Our “safe space” was close to a friend so when your parent wacked you, they would hit your friend by accident too.

My dad sat next to me in class. You’d think that teacher could recognize the SOS i was coding with the blink of my eyes. Nope, this is the 80s, the teachers taught and parents were parents. Anyways, it came time to turn in our homework. I could say that my dog ate it, but my dad would be there to say we don’t have a fucking dog Bob Jr. So as i frantically look through my desk ( the top lifted up to a 90 degree angle) looking for a paper I knew damn well wasn’t in there, my dads lips began to tighten, as he started to bite his lower lip.

Some of you grew up with your parents death stare, I grew up with tight lips lol. My dad turned my desk top from 90 degrees to 180 degrees lol. It was then I turned into Ralphie from A Christmas Story “oooh fuuuucck”. My dad looked at me, and said “we’ll talk when you get home”. lol The only talking was him saying “move your hands, Bob Jr move your hands” The belt hits different when your hand is involved. I wish I could say i learned my lesson that day, nope, my dad was by my side in class a few times.

Now some today would say that’s child abuse. No, that was the 80s. What i learned, or rather understood later in life is that him sitting next to me all those times and giving me those ass whoopins was because he wanted me to do better because he knew I could do better. And what’s better than tough love?

Yes, he really did hit me with a Nintendo lol