I don't normally post twice in one day, considering I have a difficult time coming up with ONE entry a day... but this just... made me feel so weird, I had to share:
I made a grown man cry today.
A grown man who is also my father's best friend.
It was 100 percent unintentional.
Backstory:
Dad came to Vegas back as a teenager and lived with his dad's sister.
Dad knew no one other than that family, and he didn't speak a lick of English.
Dad spent his time fixing his car, as well as the neighborhood's cars... because there was nothing better to do back in the 70's in North Las Vegas... especially for an immigrant.
One day, he was at a scrap yard looking for car parts, but he was having difficulty finding a certain part.
Dad was walking aimlessly, when one of the workers started harassing him, accusing him of stealing and calling him by some derogatory terms.
Dad had no idea what was going on, and he had no way of defending himself. That's when another Latino came to Dad's rescue... a Mexican-American kid about Dad's age who was browsing around and heard the commotion.
From that moment on, Dad and A (the Mexican-American kid) became inseparable.
In his twenties, Dad moved in with A... where they made their bachelor pad a party central. They drank for days, and these homies would smoke weed 'til... they could eat a horse.
Then A got married and started his family.
Dad left for Mexico, met Mom, and got married. They decided they'd live in Mexico, and only visit the US to have their (anchor... jk!) babies.
Once Mom was about six months pregnant, my folks decided to head for the US. Dad went for help from the only person he knew: A.
My folks lived with A, his wife, and their two kids.
Mom would babysit the two kids (she has some hilarious anecdotes from those days), cook, and clean (all while pregnant, like any awesome Mexican lady) in order to pay back the hospitality.
Mom and Dad lived with A until Mom gave birth to Rafa. That's when my folks decided they would stay here, and raise their family.
My parents found a place to call their own, and when Rafa was about six months old, they finally moved out of A's house.
We would visit A at least once a week, we'd go on camping trips to Utah at least twice during the summer, and we treated each other like family for years.
Around the time when I turned ten, the visits stopped... A's marriage disintegrated... and A went a little rogue.
Still, we D's cherish the memories shared with A and his family, and we remained eternally grateful for the kindness they showed my folks during the rough transition of moving to a foreign country. That's the kind of stuff you can never forget and will always appreciate.
Ok, now on to today and how I made this poor man cry:
Dad has stayed in contact with A, and he has visited him about once a year.
Last week, A let Dad know that he needed him to help fill his pool (is that what it's called? When you get rid of your pool by covering it with concrete).
Dad has been doing the concrete job at A's house these last two days.
Today, Dad finally asked A what his deal was in no longer visiting us.
This is where A started to cry.
A: Wanna know why? It's because of your daughters!
?!!?!
Dad: What?!
A: They kicked me out of your house!
WHAT. THE. FUCK.
Dad: WHEN?! THOSE BRATS!
A: When I go, they never come out of their room. That is THEIR way of kicking me out. They don't care to know me... they DON'T know me. Sad, because you and I are not "friends"... we're BROTHERS!
Dad: Oh... yeah, we are... but... don't let that get to you... the girls do that to everyone. If you were to drop by more often, they'd hang around... eventually. Don't feel bad about that.
Dad told me this as I was making some dinner.
I laughed... then I felt terrible, when Dad told me how A was BAWLING.
Whoa, my "slights" elicits this response from grownass men? CALM DOWN! It's only me.
I know the guy... I DO. I know what part of Mexico his family hails from (Chihuahua). I'm in contact with his only daughter (we took some college classes together, as well). I know his ex-wife's mom is a lesbian. I know his three kids are Jewish while he is a non-practicing Catholic. I know his ex-wife only ate lox. I know he and Dad would smoke weed like Cheech and Chong (something A's kids know NOTHING about). I know how he met Dad.
I could pick him out of a crowd like I can pick out Waldo, for crying out loud!
I treat him like I treat any other adult who visits my folks: I greet him at the door, shake his hand as I smile, and I excuse myself to another part of the room.
What can I talk about with a 50-whatever year-old man I see once a year? I don't even smoke weed, so I can't even talk about that.
I'm sorry, A!
So now I'm embarrassed and sad over hurting this man's feelings.
Men... women may be crazy... but you guys are such pansies (says the girl who cries because she's not invited to be part of a bridal party).
I made a grown man cry today.
A grown man who is also my father's best friend.
It was 100 percent unintentional.
Backstory:
Dad came to Vegas back as a teenager and lived with his dad's sister.
Dad knew no one other than that family, and he didn't speak a lick of English.
Dad spent his time fixing his car, as well as the neighborhood's cars... because there was nothing better to do back in the 70's in North Las Vegas... especially for an immigrant.
One day, he was at a scrap yard looking for car parts, but he was having difficulty finding a certain part.
Dad was walking aimlessly, when one of the workers started harassing him, accusing him of stealing and calling him by some derogatory terms.
Dad had no idea what was going on, and he had no way of defending himself. That's when another Latino came to Dad's rescue... a Mexican-American kid about Dad's age who was browsing around and heard the commotion.
From that moment on, Dad and A (the Mexican-American kid) became inseparable.
In his twenties, Dad moved in with A... where they made their bachelor pad a party central. They drank for days, and these homies would smoke weed 'til... they could eat a horse.
Then A got married and started his family.
Dad left for Mexico, met Mom, and got married. They decided they'd live in Mexico, and only visit the US to have their (anchor... jk!) babies.
Once Mom was about six months pregnant, my folks decided to head for the US. Dad went for help from the only person he knew: A.
My folks lived with A, his wife, and their two kids.
Mom would babysit the two kids (she has some hilarious anecdotes from those days), cook, and clean (all while pregnant, like any awesome Mexican lady) in order to pay back the hospitality.
Mom and Dad lived with A until Mom gave birth to Rafa. That's when my folks decided they would stay here, and raise their family.
My parents found a place to call their own, and when Rafa was about six months old, they finally moved out of A's house.
We would visit A at least once a week, we'd go on camping trips to Utah at least twice during the summer, and we treated each other like family for years.
Around the time when I turned ten, the visits stopped... A's marriage disintegrated... and A went a little rogue.
Still, we D's cherish the memories shared with A and his family, and we remained eternally grateful for the kindness they showed my folks during the rough transition of moving to a foreign country. That's the kind of stuff you can never forget and will always appreciate.
Ok, now on to today and how I made this poor man cry:
Dad has stayed in contact with A, and he has visited him about once a year.
Last week, A let Dad know that he needed him to help fill his pool (is that what it's called? When you get rid of your pool by covering it with concrete).
Dad has been doing the concrete job at A's house these last two days.
Today, Dad finally asked A what his deal was in no longer visiting us.
This is where A started to cry.
A: Wanna know why? It's because of your daughters!
?!!?!
Dad: What?!
A: They kicked me out of your house!
WHAT. THE. FUCK.
Dad: WHEN?! THOSE BRATS!
A: When I go, they never come out of their room. That is THEIR way of kicking me out. They don't care to know me... they DON'T know me. Sad, because you and I are not "friends"... we're BROTHERS!
Dad: Oh... yeah, we are... but... don't let that get to you... the girls do that to everyone. If you were to drop by more often, they'd hang around... eventually. Don't feel bad about that.
Dad told me this as I was making some dinner.
I laughed... then I felt terrible, when Dad told me how A was BAWLING.
Whoa, my "slights" elicits this response from grownass men? CALM DOWN! It's only me.
I know the guy... I DO. I know what part of Mexico his family hails from (Chihuahua). I'm in contact with his only daughter (we took some college classes together, as well). I know his ex-wife's mom is a lesbian. I know his three kids are Jewish while he is a non-practicing Catholic. I know his ex-wife only ate lox. I know he and Dad would smoke weed like Cheech and Chong (something A's kids know NOTHING about). I know how he met Dad.
I could pick him out of a crowd like I can pick out Waldo, for crying out loud!
I treat him like I treat any other adult who visits my folks: I greet him at the door, shake his hand as I smile, and I excuse myself to another part of the room.
What can I talk about with a 50-whatever year-old man I see once a year? I don't even smoke weed, so I can't even talk about that.
I'm sorry, A!
So now I'm embarrassed and sad over hurting this man's feelings.
Men... women may be crazy... but you guys are such pansies (says the girl who cries because she's not invited to be part of a bridal party).
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