Anecdotes <3

Most of the time, when kids are told they're adopted, the news comes as a surprise and a shock. For my dad, it came as no surprise because on some level, he always knew. He grew up among three older brothers, and one older sister, who probably informed him like it was nothing. Of course, taunting and teasing came with his exclusive knowledge, especially because he was the youngest.

When my dad was 5, his next door neighbors decided to put in a pool. While the construction crew was digging out the hole for the pool, they created a huge dirt pile, complete with random debris floating around inside it.

While playing inside the dirt with his brother Brian (who was nine), and Brian's two friends, Doug (who was ten), and Paul (who was eight), he uncovered a piece of scrap metal that resembled a heart. Of course, my dad asked what it was, and being that no one knew what it really was, the older boys made up a tale to scare my father.

They fabricated a story about an mean old lady who used to live in the house, before my father was born. The boys told my dad that the old woman who lived in the house was a mean and angry woman that used to yell at them for simply walking in front of her house.

They continued on to say that when the old lady died, she was buried in her backyard, and when her body was dug up again, her heart was missing. They told my father that the lump of scrap metal was the only thing left of her- her iron heart!

Naturally, being five and not knowing any better, my dad believed their ridiculous story and was terrified. He started bawling, and to shut him up, Brian, Paul and Doug promised that he could go with them to the firehouse. My dad never got to go to the firehouse, so he stopped crying and went with them.

Later at the firehouse, the boys copped to having made the whole story up.

Anecdote #2

The Los Gatos creek ran behind the house my dad grew up in. It was an artificial creek that was created to move water, and was also a great place for my dad and his siblings to have many adventures.

When my dad was eight, he came home from school and saw his mom in the backyard, with a letter in her hand. She told the kids that the county was going to pipe up the creek and bury it underground, effectively ending my dad's backyard fun.

The following summer, construction to pipe the creek had started. They had started setting up pipes that were about four feet in diameter, and were burying them. It took the construction workers around two years to finish piping up the creek and to bury them six feet underground. However, a couple houses down from my dad there was a manhole from which you could go into the concrete pipes.

Of course, my hooligan father and his older friends and brother decided to go down the manhole and see where the pipe led. They got into the pipe, and they started following the pipe, bent over, and feeling their way through the concrete with their hands.

My dad and his friends got about a quarter of a mile into the pipe, (which felt like two miles to the weary kids) heading towards the place where the water was going to be turned on.

Apparently one of the older kids decided that he had gone far enough, and he started making up stories about he thought his mother received a letter that said the water was to be turned on that day. My dad and his friend, Dan, started panicking, and they starting running back the way they came, and instead of gingerly placing their hands on the raw concrete, they were dragging their hands against the concrete.

My dad and Dan emerged from the pipe, their hands raw and bleeding, and were followed, twenty minutes later, by the older kids. Not wanting my dad or Dan to squeal on them, Brian (my dad's older brother) threatened to beat them up if they told.

Later on, my dad found out that the older kid was just making up stories about the water being turned on, because the water wasn't actually turned on for several more months.

Anecdote #3:

It's not everyday that my dad turns thirty, and when the thirtieth year of his life came to pass, my mom intended to make it a special day for him. She spend months and months and months planning the perfect surprise party for him. My mother collaborated with her best friend, Liza, to coordinate the best party ever. T The two of them (and pretty much everyone else who was involved) kept the secret like it was life or death, because everyone knew how curious and suspicious my dad would become if even the slightest thing seemed out of place.

So, on the date of his party, June 10th, my mom sent my dad and I (I was four at the time) to Hollister for the day, to hang out with my dad's older brother, Brian. Later that night, my mother told my dad that they would be having a birthday dinner with Liza and Dave. However, Dad wasn't too keen on that idea, and when the time came for him to leave his brother, he procrastinated his exit.

"Shouldn't you be going?" asked Brian, non-chalantly nudging my dad out of the hose, so Brian himself could get ready for the surprise party. Not really thinking anything of his brother's pushy behavior, my dad answered with a "I guess so."

My mom ripped my dad a new one when he got home late for his "birthday dinner," and told him to put on the clothes she had specially laid out for him. Dad thought it was a bit suspicious that she was wearing a hawaiian dress, and that she had picked out more tropical island wear for him, but, he figured he was in enough trouble already, and shouldn't ask my mom questions.

When they arrived at Liza and Dave's, my dad walked into the party, and everyone awaited the moment where he would realize the party was for him and start smiling and having a good time. That moment didn't come for my dad.

He walked into the party and looked around, freaking out over how many people were at the house. He didn't actually get that the party was a surprise 'Gilligan's Island' themed party for him, until my mom literally told him.

What a crazy hooligan my father is.