Memories of 50-60 Years Ago

I was sitting here today having a beer or two thinking way back into history, mine. I was in grade school; learning how to write in cursive. The nun teaching us wanted to have everyone get a top-notch ball point pen to use. She wanted each student to bring in one dollar for a Paper Mate smooth-writing ball point pen. My father pitched a fit! He did not want to go for that at all. I did get the dollar eventually, after days of cajoling him. When it came time to go to high school my mother wanted me to go to a good school across town. That involved taking two buses, so I needed fare to ride. Each week I had to extract the fare from my father. It would take me all week to get him to cut loose the three dollars. I never understood having to plead and whine to get fare to go to the school they wanted me to go to and would not let me transfer out of to go to a school close enough where I could walk to. Each year I had to go to the book store to get books for the required classes. Book covers cost 10 cents, but I could not extract that cash, so I went to school with book covers made from used grocery bags. My father was a generous man to all but me. I don’t know what he was trying to teach me, if anything at all. Maybe it was his way of spending time with me. Of all my siblings, I spent the least amount of time with him. I never asked for anything beyond what I needed for school. Once I got my first job, I never asked for anything again, unlike my siblings. I suppose this is one more thing I will never know or understand. I loved my father; we just didn’t always get along.