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This is the only picture in the world that includes my daughter, her mother (Dawn Dawson ‘80), and myself. There is a good reason for that but I will not get into that here. A few months before Tangy’s wedding she remarked to me that the one thing she never had was a picture of her with both her parents in it and I decided then and there to change that. I thought that her wedding would be the perfect opportunity to make that happen providing that her mother had her retractable claws in the off and locked position.
Now the problem was that I don’t do weddings or funerals. In fact, you can count the number of combined weddings and funerals that I have attended on one hand. The problem with funerals is that I have no use for the dead. The problem with weddings is that it is kind of like a funeral anyway only no one is dead (yet)! So I began to dread the day of May 24, 2008. My only child in the world was getting married on a Saturday and all I could think about was missing the World Ping Pong Championships.
For the record, Tangy’s stepfather, Al Freeman was going to walk her down the aisle and give her away. He deserved the job more than I did anyway and it had the added bonus of me not having to do anything. I was a little put off at first but was overjoyed when I learned it would be the full Episcopal service. Anybody that has been to an Episcopalian service knows that the only thing more boring is a Catholic Mass. I don’t have many good things to say about church but the Episcopalians and Catholics are most efficient at getting you in and out under an hour. I was happy as shit that my baby wasn’t a Baptist.
So everybody said their I dos and I think that I heard some cheesy vows and by the time they got to the kiss I was ready to bolt the church. I don’t believe in God but there is a mutual respect thing kind of going on. I don’t go into His house and He doesn’t come into mine. But I still had this picture thing to do. You would think that being the biological father I would get some preferential treatment and cut to the head of the photography line but noooooooo! After some twenty-seven bridesmaids and flower people later my photo op and free pass to the open bar had arrived. As we took our places, I carefully checked to make sure Dawn wasn’t wielding a tire iron as the photographer said “say cheese!” After waiting hr entire life for this picture, my poor baby didn’t even open her eyes. Make sure you bring the camera when the grand kids start coming.
*I am having a very prominent local artist turn this into a portrait. Tangy’s eyes will be open.
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Filed under: Family , al freeman, al freeman tashi williams, dawn dawson, emory hardy, marriage, nick hardy, tashi williams
Happy Father’s Day to my Deceased father Emory E. Hardy Jr. or more fondly known to his family as Gomez. It’s hard to believe that it’s been twenty years.
Love from Charlene, Emory 3rd, Lynne, Karen, John, Eric, Stephen and Marcus.
More love from your 24 grandchildren, 1 great grandson, and 1bunny that is still in the oven. And of course, the entire D.C. crew and all of the friends you left here in Tally.
I’d also like to wish all of my brothers who are now fathers, and my two sister’s husbands a happy Father’s Day. Your children make me proud to have the privilege and honor to be called Uncle Nick.
Filed under: Family, Music , in a sentimental mood, john coltrane
All of my life I have had trouble with authority figures including the very first one, my father. I didn’t take to well to being spanked. In my world there was no offense great or small that warranted a spanking. The only problem with this is that there wasn’t much that I could do about it. A 180 pound man vs. a 40 pound boy is a mismatch the size of David vs. Goliath. And I didn’t have a slingshot. But I did have my mouth and it pretty much ensured me a spanking from hell. Since I couldn’t fight back I sure as hell could talk shit. And I’ll come back to that later.
Growing up Hardy entailed two types of spanking. The mommy spank and the daddy spank. The mommy spank was always the preferred spank. Mommies carried you for nine months so you know she just wants to teach you a mild lesson. The mommy spank was kind of cool because she always made you go get what you wanted to be spanked with. So we would go outside and a break off a small switch. Mommies never think to make you take off your underwear so we could always put on an extra pair to soften the blows. Screaming at the top of your lungs after the first hit was always a good tool to shorten the length of the spanking. Mommies are such suckers.
Now the daddy spank was entirely different. He didn’t give you the choice to choose your instrument of doom nor did he care. I always hoped that when my time came I was nowhere near: a. an extension cord, b. a wire hanger, c. a belt, or d. the dreaded hot wheel track. The daddy spank was always conducted bare ass to inflict the most possible damage. Back in those days, welts on your ass were considered a sign of good parenting and even if they had a Department of Children and Families back then, they would have awarded my dad “Father of the Year!” Dads also don’t give a shit if you cry, that’s the whole fucking idea. Sympathy from a dad whipping your ass is found in the dictionary between shit and syphilis.
So back to my father and my ass whippings, as I said I couldn’t fight back but i could talk shit. During one grueling episode between a hot wheel track and my ass I told my father that he spanked me like a woman! I thought that I was being clever but only succeeded in increasing my welt count. Another thing about daddy spanks is that they don’t give a fuck that mommy is watching. But as I said, mommies are suckers. So by pissing off my dad even more I was able to increase my mom’s sympathy where she raced in and rescued me. I might have gotten a few more whacks but I sure as hell bought myself enough time before the next ass whipping. And I didn’t even need a slingshot!
Filed under: Family , corporal punishment, Family, spanking
Wow! It’s hard to believe that another year has come and gone. I thank the powers that be that have allowed me to enjoy another birthday. Today I turned 46. And with that comes the strange dichotomy that has been my life. For the first half of my life, I truly believed that I would not make it to my 40th birthday. You can blame that on the fact that the men in my family usually don’t die quietly in their sleep in their late nineties. The fact that I have drank enough liquor and ingested enough drugs in my lifetime and am still alive is something for Ripley’s Believe it or Not! Throw in two deccades of smoking Newports, it’s a wonder that my lungs still function.
I had a strange realization today. My life is half over. I am on the down side. The ski lift has dropped me off at the top of the mountain and will not be making a round trip. If I make it to 92 I promise to take back everything mean I have said about religion and God over the years. Meaning that, I will quickly embrace His ass in a last ditch attempt to get into heaven. Because if I make it to 92 then there must be a heaven and a God. Funny thoughts for a guy who has spent the better part of his life not giving a shit about the consequences of his actions.
But as I enter the second half of my life, or more appropriateltly, the third trimester, I am forced to now consider the consequences of my actions. Should I make any appreciative changes in my life? That’s a tough question. For I am a hedonist and I enjoy pleasure. In fact, I’d almost argue that I am an epicurian, that is, there are different degress of pleasure that one can enjoy. There is no need to list the order in which they fall but anyone with a vivid imagination can surely discern the order in which they fall.
Should I be fortunate enough to reach my 47th birthday, I wonder if I’ll have this conversation with myself again. I am sure to go through all of the philosophical arguments about whether to make drastic changes in my life to ensure that I can in effect, prolong it. But in the end, a leopard cannot change his spots. I have this one life to live and I only know how to live it one way. I’ve done alright to this point and if I’ve gotten this far, why change? The day I change might just be the day I die! Happy birthday to me…
Filed under: Family, Humor and Satire , birthday, epicurian, hedonist, nick hardy
December 7, 2008 • 9:52 am
I’m gonna kick some Geek Squad ass if they don’t return my laptop today! I have a lot of shit I want to say and I refuse to use my brother’s computer which runs as fast as an old 286 microchip job.
Filed under: Family , best buy, geek squad
