Today I ordered a Nasty Pig Pride cap. This is not likely something I will wear too often as the C-suite people I spend days with might frown. But, as I ordered it I thought about my Dad, a man who has been gone about two years now, but a man who I admired and loved every single day of my life (well, two certain days l didn’t like him but that’s another story and involves Stretch Armstrong). Anyway, to celebrate him, Pride, and just fucking June, I offer the following re-post
Drew
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It hasn’t been that long since my Dad moved away to his next phase of life, whatever that may be. Now that the business of death is done, I miss him more than I ever thought possible. This is not a thirsty call for comments, but just a simple fact that any of you who have lost a parent, or like me, parents (or like me and Axel, all parents in 18 months), you just learn to accept, use grief as growth, and do everything you can do to continue to make them proud despite the fact it no longer affects your allowance.
Anyway, as a tribute to my Dad, this week I bought these two new Nasty Pig caps and gave him a bit of a shout/snout out, While this may seem incredibly strange to most of you, tenured readers of this blog will remember me writing about the day I was traveling that my elderly father had come to my house to do something and called me to say he forgot his hat and was going to borrow one of mine. I thought nothing of it as, between me and Axel, we usually have somewhere between 77- 203 ball caps within arms reach of the door and went on about my life.
A week or so later was the next time I saw my Dad and as he rounded the corner of Cracker Barrel where I was meeting him and my Mom for breakfast. I noticed the gray and bright red Nasty Pig on his head and immediately laughed as THAT was the cap he had borrowed, out of all those hats. I had no idea how to bring up the fact I wanted it back as I was not going to tell him what it was, but he pre-empted that by THANKING me for the hat and telling me that it was the best he’d ever worn. Then, my Mom said it was “stylish” and he swooned. It was never coming off of his head whether deep down he was a nasty pig or not.
From that day forward the Nasty Pig went with him to the barber shop, Walgreens, the country club, the grocery store, many many doctor’s offices, Lowes, and anywhere else he would go. In fact, I believe I remember a conversation Axel had with him about whether or not he could wear the hat to my Mom’s funeral and, while defeated, he agreed that he would save it for his funeral, one day, a sly suggestion Ax had to win the argument.
Turns out, it was only a few months later when he would have had the chance at his funeral, but in the time in between, he had a series of minor falls that, to an old man on blood thinners, looked like the aftermath of the Red Wedding each and every time, Ultimately, there was not enough Tide or Woolite in the world to save that Pig and, at the end of the day, it became yet another casualty of 2022. I actually think he forgot about it rather quickly, but I didn’t, and it still makes me smirk when I think about it every single time.
So, Dad, while you may never have known the background of that cap, know that I will never be without one (though, unlike you, only in the proper venues).
Here’s to you, Dad, from your pervert son who you made so proud with your acceptance, love, and apparently, your inner pig. Godspeed.
