What Else Is There To Say?

The "Un" Real Texas By Steve Bussiere, humorist

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The good Lord works in mysterious ways sometimes.

I've heard it said many times, but I just had an epiphany as I stood at the urinal, of all the unlikely places in the world to have one of those things.

As I stood there, I thought about my dad.

I'm still not certain as to why I thought about him, because there were several scenarios which come to mind, none of them more likely or credible than the others.

It may have been the recollection that the report cards I brought home in high school would get him p---d off with my seeming lack of effort.

Or it may have been that when he came to visit, I know he stood at the very same spot and did what nature makes beer drinkers do.

In the grand scheme of things, it is of no major importance why I thought about him at that very moment, it was just something that happened.

I remembered as well, how when I was a teenager, heading out the door on the weekend, he would look me in the eye and give me those instructions of his, "Try and stay out of trouble!"

I think I scared him because I was the eldest son, and every time I screwed up, it was the first time he had to deal with something one of his kids had done wrong, because the girls never did anything bad. My younger brothers would watch my every adventure carefully, cataloguing my misdeeds in their minds for future reference.

They teach you a lot of useful information in our school system, but they don't teach you how to be a good parent, a fact that I discovered for myself when I became one.

I was fortunate, because my dad was a quick learner, so by the time one of my brothers would make a bad decision, dad would just shake his head and say, "It's nothing to worry about, Steve did that 5 years ago."

It always amazed me, (and does so to this day), how he matured so quickly.

Dad used to come here and visit my family and me sometimes. My dad loved Texas, and all of my friends down here. He'd sit and have a beer and regale all of my buddies with tales of the long past misadventures of his eldest son.

I guess it was payback of sorts, for those infamous report cards. They didn't seem to p---s him off any longer. I knew back then that he would get over them someday.

I recall once he told me he thanked God, every day for putting me in his life. I had taught him all about patience and understanding. I still like to believe that it was a compliment of some type.

He once told me that he was happy that I live here. "You have really good friends Steve, and they like you." He didn't say it, but I think he liked the fact that I was far enough away that I wouldn't embarrass him in a public place from that big a distance.
I also remembered that one time, that he discovered a poem I had written. He took it and went to work, so I thought to myself, "Oh God, I did it again."

He was a super athlete and was as distraught about his eldest boy's skinny legs as his eldest son was. And now he thought I was a writer. Definitely not a "jock" kind of thing to be.

I was shocked when he came home that evening, armed with my poem, which had been typed up by his secretary, and about ten other copies of it.

He handed me the neatly typed copy, and held onto the other ten. "What about the others?" I asked him. He looked at me sternly and replied, "They're for me. I'm going to show them off to my friends."

I drew a deep, relieved breath, walked to the door and said, "See ya later dad, I'm heading out to meet my friends."

He kind of smiled, gave me a hug and said to me, "Have fun. … try and stay out of trouble."

He really enjoyed this column, and bragged about it to all his buddies in Vancouver apparently. Just like I bragged about him to all of my buddies in Houston.

I/We lost him last night.

He's in a better place now. And I like to think that that better place is better because he's there.

I talked to him Sunday. He sounded really weak and told me he had to lie down. "Thanks for calling Steve."

"I love you dad." I told him.

I'll never get to do that again, so with your permission, I'd like to say it again, … one last time."

"I love you dad."

"I miss you."

"Thanks for everything you did for me."

… "Try and stay out of trouble if you can."