100 Reasons To Not Kill Yourself: #56.

This one is going to be extremely difficult for me to write so it’s going to be brief but here goes…

#56: Your Father.

Maybe you refer to him as “The Old Man” or “Pops” (if you exist in a black-and-white film). But whatever moniker you choose to bestow upon him, your progenitor should be one of the people in your life whose judgement is always first and foremost in your mind. And why wouldn’t he be?

If you’re female them your dad helps you form an image of the perfect mate, apparently. Personally, I’ve always found this theory icky but millions of humans subscribe to it so who am I to argue? And there’s no denying a good father will show his daughter qualities like integrity, honor, respect and of course, understanding, that she’d be foolish not to seek out when she’s ready to enter the dating arena.

And for males the father figure is key to developing a non-douchey personality. A good man will teach his charge to:

  • Be honest with himself and others.
  • To do the right thing. Always. Regardless of the cost.
  • Always own his mistakes and most importantly, accept their value.
  • Respect his romantic and sexual partners.
  • Be accepting of others, regardless of race, creed and what-not. Even if they like wearing socks with sandals or the Kardashians.
  • A million other lessons I’m not thinking of right now.

The truth is, I didn’t have the childhood I deserved. Of course, neither did billions of others – but they have my permission to bitch about on their blogs if they like.

As for me, I may not be able to speak from experience but I know that if you love your father you’ll consider him when and if suicide ever crosses your mind.Fortunately, I was blessed to have one of the finest men I’ve ever known become my father-in-law; John Fisher helped me become a better father and man in general.


Red Forman has always been my parenting template. Yep.

Reach out to the man who helped raise you and if he’s done his job right, you won’t ever have to fear his judgement. I can only hope that I’m a better source of wisdom and understanding than my own patriarch was and that my daughter will never have to hesitate when it comes to reaching out to her “Skippy” for whatever she might need. Like cash. But not breakfast, lunch or dinner. Unless she wants Wendy’s, that is.

See you in the lobby, kids…

About The Hook

Husband. Father. Bellman. Author of The Bellman Chronicles. Reader of comic books and observer and chronicler of the human condition. And to my wife's eternal dismay, a mere mortal and non-vampire. I'm often told I look like your uncle, cousin, etc. If I wore a hat, I'd hang it on a hat rack in my home in Niagara Falls, Canada. You can call me The Hook, everyone else does.
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17 Responses to 100 Reasons To Not Kill Yourself: #56.

  1. My father was a philandering arsehole. Fortunately that taught me not to be a philandering arsehole

  2. My Dad was my friend. I could talk to him about anything, and know I upset him a little when I moved away to co-habit with Partner, but he didn’t stop me. He was there to pick up the pieces 8 years later and never said I told you so. He was far from perfect, but he was my Dad and I loved him. I miss him and was glad I was holding his hand when he passed away.

  3. Dan Antion says:

    My dad died when he was 60, but he and I spent a lot of time together. He taught by example, always.

  4. Great reason, Hook. I know how it feels to have a dad leave too early and cannot imagine inflicting that kind of hurt on a dad.

  5. dianaepona says:

    My Pop taught me too many things to list. Among them, though, were things like fishing, hunting, horseback riding, just to name a few. One of my favorite memories is when we went riding across a pasture in the Colorado Rocky mountains. LOL, he sat in that western saddle and rode as if he were part of the horse. I bounced along behind him on my horse looking like a bobber caught on a lake in a windstorm. He was a combination — to me, anyway — of Gary Cooper and Jimmy Stewart. He had his foibles. They might not have been many, but they were good ones, He was quiet, but when he spoke, we listened. I try to count my blessings frequently. When I do, my dad — and my mom — are right at the top of the list.

  6. Doug in Oakland says:

    My father and I didn’t always get along that well, but I came to really respect him, who he was, and what he did with the resources he had in his life. He was born in Oklahoma in the thirties and grew up poor and racist, but overcame both of those limitations in his life, and that’s not easy to do or a common achievement.
    Because of my father (and my mother also), I was 1) born in Northern California to a stable family and a safe, sane home, 2) I spent my early childhood on some acreage raising livestock and growing vegetables and when you add in the milk cow, eating like a king. 3) I learned how to live in the wilderness of the National Forests of Northern California, to properly handle a firearm, to hunt and fish, and to respect all of the other living creatures out there. and 4) I never wanted for anything, within reason. When motocross racing was my all consuming passion, I had help getting the motorcycles and gear and getting to practice and the races. That I had to work to earn money for it was part of the support, really, as it taught me to appreciate it all the more. And when rock and roll took over my life, he didn’t approve, but helped me buy my first electric guitar and amplifier.
    We had our differences, and now that he’s gone, I’m left with a challenge: to improve my own views and standing on the areas we differed as much as he did while he was alive.
    So far, I have a ways to go, so that’s a good reason to stick around for a while longer.

  7. curvyroads says:

    I’m glad you had a great father-in-law to counteract the damage from your father. ❤ I lost my father early, but he still had a profound positive influence on me, so I count myself lucky.

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