Son, if You don't finish the fight, I will finish you

Mine is quite similar to yours. I beat down a kid when I was 10 years old. Think of Christmas Story, only less slapping and no reason. I just beat him down to prove how tough I was to my friends. This was right after school on the way home, and like all kids I spent some time playing around. It was winter after all, and every hill becomes a slide at that time of year. It took me somewhere around 25 minutes to get home after I'd laid the whupping on this kid, and the moment I walked in the door my dad was waiting for me.

I didn't get to take off my winter jacket, no explanation, nothing. He dragged me into the living room, belt already off and beat the living shit out of me. He'd gotten a call from the boy's mother and decided to take appropriate action. I screamed, I cried, I begged him to stop and after some time he did, and proceeded to take a seat next to me. After a few minutes of hysterical sobbing I asked him why. He explained that I had done the same to that kid just off the playground. He then asked me how scared I'd been when he (my father) just attacked me without reason or explanation. I answered between sobs and told him I was terrified. The next sentence has stuck with me all my life.

"Imagine how that kid must've felt."

FOCUS: This helped me avoid not only fights, but also other awkward or painful moments. I honestly believe that this sort of empathy and imagining how others will react to something has made me a better person. I've always found myself thinking about how those around me will react to my actions, and whether or not even something as simple as throwing a plastic bottle to the ground two feet from a blue bin will negatively affect someone else.

Some people would call that being a tool, but I don't think we have the "right" (whatever the hell that means) to do whatever we like without restraint. Even miserly fucks like me have to interact with society at large from time to time, and that means making an effort to co-exist without any unnecessary bullshit from either side.

Take what you will from it, but it was a valuable lesson for me.

 

I got my work ethic from my parents, which is probably one of the most important things you can learn, as well as other important skills.

I see my mom work all day, then come home and cook and clean, not because she has to, but because she wants too, and we live on a farm, so thats hard.

I was 3 when my father worked all day, then went to night school, everynight, for 5 years, to get his Ba.

Ive seen my parents go through life WITH OUT credit cards, and without debt. I dont have one, or plan to get one eaither. This is another important life lesson, that I have come to see the truth in during this recession that was caused by people spending money they dont have.

Also along the line of what happened to Chater, when I was 8, this skinny little 7 year old who watched alot of Power Rangers (I wasnt allowed to watch it) used to kick the shit out of me. I used to run, not to my dad, but run away. One day dad saw this, and told me after I ran home like a pussy, that if I hit him once (and then he showed me how to hit him) that he would leave me alone, and we would end up being friends. It turns out thats true, and a its something that still works today (most times).

I never thought of things like this before theis thread, but shit, Id be a filthy, un educated, poor pussy if it wasnt for my parents.

 

Now I see why you're the way you are...

 

I was the toughest mother fucker in Elementary school because of the "Don't start the fight but if you're in one, finish it" motto.

Focus: The truth is that we could die tomorrow, if you're living life by being a miserable, jaded fuck then you're wasting your time. Living every day as if it's the last, is the best advice my dad's ever given me. One of the biggest compliments I've gotten from my friends is that I'm the happiest person they know. Many people ask me why I'm this way and that's the explanation I give them.

He also told me to never fuck without a rubber.

 

My dad is a retired Marine and the one thing that I remember most from his "teachings" were to do something right the first time so you won't have to do it again. No procrastination or half-assing anything. If he asked me to mow the lawn or rake the leaves, you bet your ass I did it all the way and left no leaf in the yard, otherwise he'd just make me do it all again the next day even though it was cut for the most part, or there were a few leaves left, more always seemed to fall that night. To this day, if I have to do something, I don't half-ass it.

 

Once, my brothers and I were riding in the backseat while my dad was driving us to the store. He was ranting about us using all the milk and not letting anyone know and then BAM! We hit a guy in the street and his arm detached and flew over the hood of the car! We were screaming and crying, and then the guy stood up and said "That's why you always leave a note." My dad always had his friend (who had a prosthetic arm) involved in teaching us lessons.

Arrested Development joke.

 

Never, ever get married.

 

I've been meaning to make a thread about this.

What's the consensus on that? I know divorce rates are high/love doesn't exist/women are whores but one can't be single for all his life, can he? When does the biological imperative to procreate and mate kick in?

Focus:

My dad would never beat me. He'd guilt-trip me and make me feel disappointed in myself. I think this is worse, I was a great (straight A's, great) student all of elementary and the beginning of High School and now I've just burnt out and don't really care for grades much. It sucks because he's a great and loving father.

 

I learned how to fight from my stepdad, who was a giant to my tiny self at 6' 2" and 230 lbs. I can remember fucking with our dog one time when I was 7 and he threw a straight jab right to the back of my neck. I think I cried for the rest of the day. There was no real wisdom or motive in these things, it was just, "stop fucking with the dog." These "lessons" continued until I was maybe 10 or 11, when my Mom divorced him.

I got a lot tougher though. I lived in the rough part of town until grade 4, and the neighborhood baseball games in the church parking lot would always devolve into a brawl. I was small as a young child, but I was fucking scrappy as all hell. Most of the kids I lived around were black or mexican, and they could fight like hell too, so I had some really good fights growing up.

In grade 4 though, we moved to the nicer, suburban part of town and I went to the white school. One day at recess shortly after I got there I was throwing a football around with some nerdy kid, because I didn't really have any friends. Then, one of the "cool" kids, who probably outweighed me by 40 pounds, intercepted my pass from the nerdy kid and stood there taunting him with it. I walked up to him and said give the balll back, but then he started taunting me with it. Without a thought I just stepped forward and punched him in the stomach. He fell down onto his ass and sat there holding his stomach trying to catch his breath, and I picked up the football and started walking away. Then he tackled me from behind and we began rolling around fighting for awhile until the recess aides broke it up. It was a pretty even fight, though he was bleeding from the nose and mouth and I hardly had a scratch, but that fucking nerd kid I was throwing the football with ratted me out for throwing the first punch. I ended up getting suspended, the first kid in like 10 years to get suspended from that elementary school, while the other kid only got afterschool detention. As it turns out, that was the first fight the principal had ever had to deal with the whole time she worked there. This of course, led to me being dubbed, the bad kid, and precipitated the incomprehensible amount of trouble I got in there.

Of course, after that the cool kids all liked me and I didn't have to hang out with that nerdy little fucking snitch anymore.

 

When I was in fifth grade, I did something pretty stupid and brought beer to school. I poured a Corona into a plastic water bottle, something I had seen my alcoholic aunt do before and drive me to her house. Me and a couple of friends tried drinking it at lunch time and the taste of it was so awful we ended up just spitting it out and reacting gross to it. Still, one of the kids pretended to be drunk off of a few sips of it and started running around taking his shirt off and yelling that he was drunk, which obviously is how I got caught. We all got suspended for two days and since I lived down the street from my school, after my parents told them to they released me to walk home. Stupid idea, as I was frightened of the ass beating I was sure to receive. I instead went to my friend's house who lived within walking distance and was home sick that day. I hid out there the whole day and went home the next afternoon. My parents were pissed off majorly but glad that I was home. I didn't catch an ass beating like I thought, but I instead had to call up every member of my extended family that knew what happened and had to talk to them about it, which was much worse than an ass beating.

My parents did a good job of making me not want to do stupid things because when I did, our entire family heard about it within days. At family gatherings, everyone knew what a little idiot I was. I got into a lot of trouble in middle school as well, and when I was threatened to go to boarding school I got my shit together and actually stayed out of trouble all of high school. I never smoked pot until I graduated, which is actually a bummer because I bet I would have done better in high school if I was stoned.

 

I used to be an absolute prick of a kid and as a result had a lot of run ins with my old man for tormenting my younger brothers and sister or breaking windows and such. He used to give me a good flogging, sometimes for something i deserved others for something that was the doing of one of the others but around the time i was 14 the tactics changed.

On the first particular occasion it happened I'd been tossing a soft football around inside the house and flicked it through a window and broke it, Old mans reply wasn't a foot up the ass but a you have to go down the road ask the neighbour to come help you fix the window(neighbour happened to make stained glass windows). I had to buy him a carton of beer for helping and still give the old man $50.

Happened once more after that and ever since I moved out me and the old man started getting along well and I've had a much greater respect for other peoples personal property and not just my own.

 

I've learned a few valuable lessons from my parents, the most important ones can be paraphrased like this:

"No-one cares about your problems, so keep them to yourself."

"Don't ask for help because you won't get it."

"You aren't a priority."

That's the feeling I've always gotten from my father, who always cared more about sailing or keeping tropical fish or whatever his hobby-of-the-moment was than ever helping me with anything. It's a great feeling knowing you aren't the kid your dad wanted. It's surprising I only spent six months in therapy at school. My mom always said I could talk to her about anything, but she and I have always been very different, with little in common, so I never felt like I could.

I guess it could all be summed up in one incident. I used to really enjoy being in the Scouting movement - the outdoor camping, mostly, until the others managed to lock me in a dark room one Friday night with no torch, which regularly used to attract cockroaches (I *really* cannot stand them and used to be petrified of them. Now I just stomp them out), for about two hours. I'm also not a fan of total darkness. I soon realised no amount of screaming would help and that no-one was going to let me out until they wanted to or got bored. Oh, did I mention my father was there too? Yeah, he was the scout master. I quit the scouting movement shortly after and started my slow retreat from seeking the company of others and I stopped seeking the approval of my father, because, after that night, I knew I'd never get it, no matter what I did.

Later in life I've realised my father will not change, and it sucks in a way because we've never been close.

 

There were a number of memorable, universal lessons I received growing up. Two came when I was relatively young;

In the mall, at six years old, I was waiting in line to play a game. A kid cut in front of me, and I let him. At this, my father grew upset, pulled me aside, and asked why I allowed someone to take advantage of me like that. Why I passively suffered someone else's wrong action without speaking up or doing anything about it.

Since that day, I have always spoken up and been very vigilant whenever I feel someone is about to/has cheated me, is about to do something wrong, etc. This lack of passive acceptance has tremendously benefited me on numerous occasions in life.

Around the same time period, I told my father what we were studying in school, and that our teacher had introduced us to the concept of common sense.

"For instance, she told us that if someone told me to jump off a cliff, no matter who they are, I shouldn't it!"
"She told you wrong."
"Huh?"
"If I tell you to jump off a cliff, you do it. Immediately. Without asking questions."

 

This actually fits with my post on the sobriety thread about using my family as a reason to not every let alcohol get control of you.

At an early enough age for it to sink in, but not too old as I would of already started making bad decisions, my dad laid this one on me that had a huge influence on my life and has always been in the back of my mind. For some reason I just knew it wasn't just about alcohol, but about all sorts of decisions.

"I may or may not be any farther in life than I am now, but I would of reached this point twenty years earlier if I wouldn't of let drinking take control."

He's doing well these days. Sober for almost 30 years, great job, great wife and I have a great half brother. He admits that he's the reason things didn't work with my mom. He wasn't the best father, but he did the best he could and over the years he'd made himself into something that I, and most importantly, himself, is proud of.

Using his life as an example, he showed me the long term effects that stupid choices can have and how hard one needs to work to pull out of it.

 

As a youngling I had the same dreams that all kids have. Become an astronaut or a ball players or something like that. Then my dad sat me down and told me "look son, our people...we're not athletically gifted enough to become ballplayers, not good looking enough to become movie stars, and not talented enough to become rock stars. But we are pretty damn smart, it is a lot easier to make a living being smart than any of those other things. So stick to what you are good at. Keep the other things as hobbies, but use your brain to make a living."

It was disheartening, but true. And it stuck. PhD in Economics here I come.

 

My father told me about the same as Chater, "You never start a fight, but you better finish it." That was one of the first things I can remember my father telling my about life that I can recall. Apart from that the next was, "No matter how big and bad you think you are, there is always someone bigger and badder" now I am in no way a small person, but I still take that to truth.