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Pictured is my Dad and I with the pirate ship him and his friend Bill George built: "The Inferno" from the final scene of the Goonies.

He passed away a few years ago. One of his big love's in life was watching classic movies. To remember him I borrowed a copy of "Casablanca," which I plan to watch later today.

Happy Father's Day to all the fathers here and to all our fathers!

Had never seen Casablanca. Phenomenal movie and a great way to connect to my dad's spirit :)

It's one of those movies you can watch over and over.

Except for my wife, she doesn't see what the big deal is. She'll get it the 5th time.

It starts a little slow, but as soon as Humphrey Bogart comes on the movie really begins.

I'll have to check out some of his other films.

Bram wrote: ↑Sun Jun 21, 2020 11:03 pm Had never seen Casablanca. Phenomenal movie and a great way to connect to my dad's spirit :)

It's an excellent movie, one where I understand why all the fuss is made. If you enjoyed it, check out another Bogart flicker, The Maltese Falcon. The dialogue is fantastic.

Happy Father's Day to your father's memory.

If you like that The Big Sleep and The Harder They Fall are also excellent. Props to your old man and his excellent taste in movies.

Thank you for the movie suggestions!

Fat Cat, Maltese Falcon is the only Bogart movie I "remember" seeing, though I couldn't tell you anything beyond Bogart's a detective.

Feel free to share something about your own Dad's, that's why I started the thread :)

Bram wrote: ↑Mon Jun 22, 2020 7:42 pm Thank you for the movie suggestions!

Fat Cat, Maltese Falcon is the only Bogart movie I "remember" seeing, though I couldn't tell you anything beyond Bogart's a detective.

Feel free to share something about your own Dad's, that's why I started the thread :)

Key Largo & The Treasure of the Sierra Madre are worth a peek

My Dad was a regular WW2 era man's man. Far from perfect, a little nutty, but was a good man to me and others. A racist atheist (but quiet about the atheism so as not to upset my mother's Roman Catholicism) who would quietly collect useful household goods and bring them to poor black families who lived on the other side of the tracks in 1960's Zephyrhills, FL and he'd let the little boys shoot my Daisy pump action BB gun.

He bought me a giant Bowie knife when I was in grade school and let me play alone in a room with a loaded 12 ga. shotgun when I was an untrained teen so his supervisory skills were imperfect. He was kicked out of school in the 4th grade, he had a bit of a record with the authorities, his penmanship was masterful and his writing skills were great. He always had his nose in a book and he was a suburb and caring craftsman with anything he touched. He had a wicked ironic sense of humor and he always let me be me. I was a lucky boy.

Thanks for sharing about him

Bram wrote: ↑Wed Jun 24, 2020 6:51 am Thanks for sharing about him

Thanks for the memory starter. I remember him frequently but mostly in flashes. It was good just think about him for a while as a man and a father.

Dr. DownLow...awesome description of your pops. Similar to mine but add a deep fondness for alcohol, an uneven unpredictable temper, and a love for violence. I struggle to aptly describe him. I would not call him racist in a textbook definitive sense but I'll immediately contradict myself by saying since he was a wounded combat veteran in the Pacific campaign, if you were any type of Asian, you were going to have an altercation with him...drunk or sober. He was conservative by nature but politically preferred democratic candidates. I had virtually no supervision other than this phrase: "you keep fucking around with that you're going to get hurt".

I'm a little late on this and seldom here. My dad grew up in the mountains of rural Virginia, in a poor family. His dad went to prison for a year or two for being a shine runner, meaning he drove the delivery car like ol' Jessie Duke. My dad and siblings and Grandma lived off their meager farm and relatives' handouts for that time he was away. Dad was born in aught nine as he said; and said some of his playmates were the sons of former slaves. When Granddad got out of prison, he moved his family to Pa., because he feared retribution from rival shine gangs from his previous occupation. Despite Dad being a southerner, I never heard any racist talk coming from him. He taught me how to hunt and fish, handle guns safely, weld, box, and throw a curve ball. Dad never went to school after 6th grade, but was always reading. He was a great story teller about his childhood with his brother Frank. He even wrote a couple of children's stories longhand and made the characters in one story my sister and me. My children and sisters' children all loved him. I miss him and think about him all the time. I tried to be as good a father as he was.

Nice stories guys.