Lessons every father should teach his boy

My Father was without question the toughest man I’ve ever known. Not to imply that he was a brawler. If he was ever in a situation where it was necessary to stand up, he absolutely would but it was his character to be violent.

By tough I mean unwavering character. A man of uncompromising morals and relentless responsibility. He tried very hard to impress upon us children the same lessons his own father taught he and his twin brother.

I was a fortunate child in many ways not the least of those being that I received an allowance weekly. I had chores that I had to complete without being told and was docked in pay for every time I needed reminded.

Now say my friend wanted to go to the movies and I was short money. I could borrow from my Dad. And he’d ask, “when will you pay me back“? It was left to me to set the repayment date. And whatever date I choose, he’d be waiting with his hand out upon my arrival home. Whoa would be me if I didn’t have it.

He‘d say, “you said that you would pay me today, you could have said a year from now and that would have been fine, but you didn’t“.

”People need to be able to believe what you tell them Bradley. It’s not about the money, but about keeping your word. If people can’t believe what you say it wouldn’t matter if you’re the wealthiest man in the world, you’re worthless“

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“If you agree to an appointment with someone and a time is set, then you arrive 15 minutes early, respect other people’s time more than your own agenda”

(to this day I’m hopelessly punctual. I get real and serious anxiety if I’m not early to whatever I’m doing)

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Manners were exceptionally important. Dinner as a family was not optional. Every night at 6pm. Not only must you be there but washed and dressed. There were 8 of us and my mother had dinner ready on time without fail. And nothing from a box. A huge presentation of meat, vegetables and breads.

When mom would yell ”it’s ready” everyone would run to the table and try to not get stuck in a chair next to Dad.

If someone asked for the salt, even if you wanted it you passed it first. Absolutely touch nothing before the prayer was said. Never talk with food in your mouth. And if you smacked your lips or chewed with your mouth open? (This is a lesson you only need to be taught once!) He’d take your plate and you to the garage. Your food was dumped onto the floor and you were not given utensils. “If you want to eat like an animal, you eat where the animals eat”.

It is worthy of noting that every Sunday every single item was removed from the garage and it was scrubbed with soap and water and a stiff brush. Rinsed and squeegeed dry. So it was literally a floor you could eat off of.

Again to this day, if I’m at a table with someone who smacks their lips etc, I can’t eat. It disgusts me.

All of you who’ve always thought I was an ass or difficult to be around you’re beginning to understand why...

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