Oh, people have been saying it for years.
David is exactly like my dad.
And in some ways I am, and I am very proud of that.
My dad was very misunderstood and very eccentric. He had a healthy income even in retirement yet lived in a low-income building like myself. He had to pay market value, however, as he did not quality for assistance to live there.
If my job keeps up at the rate it’s going, I’ll be paying rent where I am, too. It can’t exceed 60 percent of my income, I believe, or market value, which is about $1,100 per month.
I know. For a hotel room. Denver is very expensive.
My dad was very proud of his little studio apartment, as I am. He did not yearn for anything more, even though he could afford it.
He loved all the drama and the noise and the police at the complex and everything else that comes with living in a building with the feel of the projects.
I like it a little bit, too. A little action is OK. There are some nice people here.
For example, today I bought a deer blanket and a St. Louis Cardinals hat from my friend Bryan. He went with me downtown Denver yesterday to Impact Humanity, where I got a great bounty of clothes.
My friend Lisa gave me a great giraffe throw pillow. I bought a wallet off another friend.
We all try to help each other out in this building. The program and property managers are working hard to build community, having several activities as of late from a poetry slam to open mic night.
I have some nice throw rugs in my apartment — just as my dad did.
Dad had a few classic nick nacks, namely a little bulldog statue that sat in a corner. He got mad and hurled it once in the memory care facility, broke a leg off. I have no desire to hurl things and generally don’t become angry about too much anymore. I try to stay positive, and there is a lot to be positive about.
But there is always room for improvement.
I also am wearing shoes that sort of resemble the shoes my dad wore, although mine are slip-ons and not Frankenstein shoes with giant metal lace rings.
Bless dad’s heart. Toward the end when he could not remember he liked his big Frakenstein shoes (which he could not even lift at that point), we put him in velcro tennis shoes, and he did quite well.
My dad was very, very smart, even though he only finished the eighth grade. Don’t kid yourself. He also was a man of principle, and truly only wanted a normal life with a wife and family. My mother’s mood swings and his alcohol abuse did not mix well. After almost 30 years (or maybe 30?) they called it quits.
Ugh. And then mom’s boyfriend Richard moved in.
And I moved out. In with cousin Lisa.
Found out my dad was paying her rent just as I was. She got $200 a month in the late 1980s for room and board for an honor high school student who was an angel.
Ha! She bought the beer for us. Anyway, I’ll give her a rest as I have been enjoying seeing her sister on Facebook.
Anyway, back to how I am like my dad (who did not get along with cousin Lisa at the end either), my dad and I both have a passion for doing laundry.
A washer and dryer is great, but doing laundry by hand in the sink and hanging it up is quite therapeutic, in addition to saving $3 per load. My dad also did his own laundry and hung things up to dry.
I don’t know, there’s something about cleanliness and getting things done that motivates me. Dad was the same way, living in an ultra-clean apartment. Some people say mine is spotless too most all the time.
I try! I am so grateful for all I have, and I think my dad was too. As a kid I was not grateful for anything.
I am a much better person after experiencing homelessness. My dad became a better person too when he moved into that low-income building, where he lived 30 years. He became known as “The Mayor of Oak Terrace Apartments.”
He was the Gladys Kravitz of the complex. Remember the nosy neighbor from “Bewitched?”
I also have a temper like my dad, and apparently I am guilty of some bizarre behavior. Those could be early signs of my dad’s rare, sometimes genetic disease, frontotemporal degeneration.
But it is not likely given how I can write organized, hopefully error-free content. I do not have any problems executing tasks nor do I have any motor skill problems. As for my behavior, well, my brother was considered the “perfect” one.
My dad got sideways with his siblings quite often. My dad drank a lot until he got into his 60s. I used to be a raging drunk too but have been sober with minor relapses for several years.
I am a firm believer in marijuana’s medicinal purposes, however, and do partake in it for better health.
Dad did not smoke marijuana except once. He and I already were in the family home again, maybe 2013, and he wanted to hit the pot pipe. Said he didn’t feel anything then slept for 12 hours!
My dad had a GREAT sense of humor later in life, when he began to let go of some anger just a little bit. My dad and I both mock people, it is true. We do imitations. So does my cousin Cindy.
My dad and I both savor in all things sweet, from doughnuts to strawberry Twizzlers. I saw a man died from eating a bag of licorice every day for many years. Dad and I both love Twizzlers.
Dad liked plain licorice though, and I only like strawberry. We both love(d) cookies and pies (Village Inn coconut cream or banana make dad and I do backflips).
We appreciated it when my Aunt Mary would sit on her butt and make goodies.
Dad and I both like to look as nice as possible. I did not realize how in younger years dad was a bit of a clothes horse. I used to very much be that way, too.
Dad and I both are (were) very political and up on current events. We always watched presidential addresses and press conferences growing up in my household as a kid. We never missed the news or the news shows.
I never thought about how much all that influenced me as a journalist, but indeed it did. My parents were very civic minded, devout Democrats. Dad was not thrilled when I told him I was voting for Trump. In fact, he was dead a week later.
I may have turned into my dad a bit, but I have no problem with that. I look more like my mother as of late with the long, curly hair.
I think having a mind similar to my dad’s is a no-brainer. I wonder what my friends and relatives think.