Wednesday, June 15, 2016

This is Poppy

Poppy is the biggest peace lover I know. He's also the most dangerous man I know when you cross his boundaries. You see, he hates conflict and will do all he can to settle things peacefully. But he has very clear lines drawn. He doesn't hide his lines, he doesn't waver. They are where they are and he makes sure you're well aware of them. Push him past his considerable limits of patience, cross his lines, and he becomes the Warrior he was trained to be. The Man God meant him to be. 
And he taught me well.

We share the same temperament. I'm slow to anger (yes, I'm a real ginger), I tolerate a lot of fuckery because it's not worth the consequences of anger. But I do have boundaries. My friends and family are protected by those boundaries, and I will rise from peaceful slumber to protect them. 
I am my father's daughter.


Anonymous said...

My father drove an amtrac for the USMC in the Pacific during WWII. He survived three beach assaults, with the last being Iwo Jima where his amtrac was blown from under him as they neared the beach. My father, the other driver and one other Marine survived. The amtrac hit a mine or some type of explosive round hit under the front of the vehicle and it overturned in the shallow surf. Those that were not killed by the explosion incident were killed by direct fire from the beach.

They stood behind the overturned trac until the tide went out in the evening (there was nowhere else to go). After wading out with the tide then moved parallel to the beach until they heard English being spoken on shore. Upon coming ashore and checking in with the first gunnery sergeant they could find they were told to "grab a rifle and get back to work!" And so it began.

My father, also a boxer in the Corps, was the kind of man who would "give you pause" when you were in his presence. He could be dangerous; he WAS danger, under control. Mostly.

When I was in the first grade we had a peeping tom outside our house late one night. Dad slithered quietly out of the house, barefooted, in his underwear, with a .38 revolver in hand. The peeping tom got an "eye-full" courtesy of the USMC training, plus a little experience in the Pacific theater. We never had a problem after that. Ever.

I remember that event as though it was yesterday. It was the first time I saw a father in "family protection mode." I was damn glad to be on his side!

I learned a lot from that man, especially about what it means to be a husband and father. About boundaries. And boundary violations. I am my father's son.

I think I'd like Poppy.


Granny said...

Those men were true heroes. My Dad was an ex Navy seal and as such was a quiet and confident man. His generation survived the depression, then went to war in their millions. Dad signed up for service the day after Pearl Harbor and served the entire war, had two destroyers shot out from under him and survived. He didn't have instant communication with loved ones, and managed to serve the entire war until peace was declared.
He taught me to never back down to a bully after finding me with a roll of pennies (remember those?) in my little five year old hands, smacking my fist into my other hand. "What are you doing?" he asked. "I'm going to hit Bobby 'cause he's hitting me." Dad said "If you hit him with that you will break every finger in your hand." "O.K. what do I do?" "Kick him, hard and fast". I did and broke Bobbys' glasses. Dad paid for the glasses and Bobby never hit me again. My Dad, my hero. RIP

RabidAlien said...



Anonymous said...

need more like all of em...and their children....

vaquero viejo

wirecutter said...

I've met your Poppy. He's a good man. Every word you wrote is true.

hiswiserangel said...

He really likes you, too, wirecutter.
He's a great judge of character.