Dad Died

I got back a few days ago from a second trip to Upstate New York because on October 23rd my Dad died. It was sudden and he was doing great!!!! He survived sepsis and was looking forward to going home. He was upbeat, even happy. Energetic. Able to get around on his own again. Doing great! He took a nap and left this world.

I needed time before I posted about this. I don't want you to feel bad for me and my family. I want to tell you about my Dad because I am who I am today because of him. I am Squirrelbait literally because of him. I just want to share my Dad with you. I piece of myself with you albeit briefly. I do not want a long winded post.

Dad taught me from a young age about bush crafting and wilderness survival. Survival in a general sense too by stressing the importance of discipline. Control and personal discipline.

Dad was an infantry sergeant in the Vietnam War (drafted). He suffered from what is now called PTSD for most of my life. What we used to call Battle Fatigue. He came back from the war a very different man. My distrust of the government started very young and this is where it comes from. They destroyed my Dad.

They took a highly intelligent pacifist and they sent home a man with a bag of screaming cats inside him. No help. No support. Just thanks and good luck being a husband and father. Civilians do not make good soldiers. Yet, part of Dad’s trauma resulted in his obsession with making sure his kids survive no matter what. Something that benefited me greatly. He regularly took my brother and I out in the woods and trained us. Personally, I think he did a good job. He even made sure I am not ticklish on the bottom of my feet. Seriously, he desensitized my feet. Bag of cats like I said. But again, here I am. Resilient, tough, a problem solver, a survivor, and a free thinker. I owe this to my Dad.

Now, just as a side note. Dad was already traumatized by separation from his birth family and siblings through adoption before he went to war. His Mom fell terminally ill and his father was an old man. So, the state took custody of him and his 5 siblings and adopted them out. He was 5 years old. He deeply loved his mother and he was not taken to see her after she died. No funeral attendance. Nothing. No closure. Knowing she loved him, He felt taken away from her. He never bonded with his adopted family. Given this and the war, it is amazing he could be a reasonably good father to anyone let alone stubborn opinionated me but he did it.

When I was in High school, I joined the poetry club. I wanted a pen name for my poetry and Dad came up with squirrelbait. Now, if you knew me as a kid or hell, even know me now, it is obvious why that stuck to me like glue. I was a, well, odd kid. I just didn’t behave like other kids. I didn’t giggle like young girls do. Didn’t care about fashion, hair, nails, etc. I just saw the world differently than everyone else. I had different priorities than the other kids. Looking back I can see it was because of the upbringing and training from Dad.

My values were clear to me as a kid too. The living examples Dad provided in his life. Things I saw him do because it was “the right thing to do. Right is right and wrong is wrong. Nothing else matters”. I saw him (with me in tow -training) sneak through a patch of woods alongside a parking lot to sneak up on a board meeting and record it. All because he heard about them railroading someone for power. Just one example for Dad going out of his way to be a real hero. To protect those who can not protect themselves. I guess that’s why one of my hobbies as a kid and teenager was to harass and beat up bullies. I bullied bullies in school.

Dad also lived his way. Always one foot in society and one foot out. Growing potatoes in garbage cans in the city. Using the car tire to shell walnuts we collected (my brother on the gas petal and me across the street to catch the nut as dad puts the walnut under the jacked up tire). He bathed in powdered laundry soap, LOL. Just as quick examples. He was not anything like everyone elses Dad.

When he retired, he bought a pickup truck and built a camper onto the back of it.

Later on, he bought a short old school bus and built up the inside to meet his needs with bed, cabinets, etc. He traveled from BLM land to BLM land (federally owned wilderness) throughout the western part of the United States full time for many years. A nomad and they were the best years of his life. He thrived. He also healed and that made me so happy.

I am ready for whatever BS and Hell the future brings because of my Dad. I make wise choices because of my Dad. I am ready to do whatever I need to because of my Dad. I am thankful and grateful of all the men in the world, this one was my Dad. He’s fine. He’s just not here. I will see him again.