I was thinking of him this morning when I opened a new jar of peanut butter and I had to peel off the security thing that covers the opening. Those didn't exist when I was a kid, and my dad used to bring a toothpick when we went grocery shopping and he'd open jars of peanut butter and use the toothpick as a pencil and write messages in the peanut butter; dorky things like "Help! being help prisoner in the factory!" and "Inspected by #9". I've often wondered what people thought when they got home and opened their new jar.
She'd dread going grocery shopping with him, besides the peanut butter issue , he'd help himself to a revello or a fudgesicle, and give my mum the wrapper so she could pay for it, and after he ate it, he'd walk throughout the store with the stick in his nostrils, or sticking out of his ear.
He'd go through my mum's magazines and cut out life size pictures of women's eyes and insert them behind the lens's of his glasses and sneak up on her and say "Hellooooooo there....." You have no idea how freaky that looks until you see it.
He'd get up earlier than us and spray shaving cream on the lenses of everyone's glasses and by the time we got up, it would be hardened into little mounds of goo....an incredible pain to get off.
He'd also take my mother's cigarettes and wrap dozens and dozens of elastics around the package so that when she got up in the morning and needed that first smoke, she'd have to remove all the elastics and since she was in a panic to remove them, they'd be breaking and snapping on her fingers. He'd be gone golfing or to work, so she couldn't even take one of his, from his pack.
Luckily she had a sense of humour too, I'd be hearing "Jesus, Brian" all day long.
He liked to use more toothpaste than needed so that as he brushed his teeth it would foam all over his mouth and chin, and he'd walk into the kitchen and tell my mum "I'm not feeling so great after removing that bat, I wonder if it bit me? Feeling slightly rabid"
He used to make his own beer, and one time he pretended that I had climbed onto the kitchen table and crawled into the beer container and was drunk. He had the pictures to prove it.
He started with the photos when I was really small, he'd set it up, take a snap, and then not say anything until the pictures were developed weeks later. My mum would be going through the envelope of pictures and I can just picture her shaking her head and sighing "Jesus, Brian...."
I sure miss my dad. I think of him whenever I open peanut butter, smell shaving cream, use foamy toothpaste and try to clean anything greasy off of my glasses. I also think of him when I take a piece of paper towel off of a roll. For the smallest, simplest task he'd use WAY too much paper towel, he'd pull the roll with a flourish like a magician pulling a tablecloth off of a table loaded with dishes and crystal. He'd then wipe a smudge off of something and stuff it all in the garbage. He'd also make me stand on my tip-toes, then he'd "grab" my ears so that it would appear that he was lifting me up by my ears, and when my mum came around the corner, she'd shriek. He was definitely a character.
