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As far as parents go, I consider myself pretty lucky. I know a lot of people who had varying degrees of parental weirdness, from early curfews, to not being allowed to get a driver’s license, and all the way to attending Bible study camps in the summer in lieu of a vacation.
I remember it well. Eminem was blowing up and the Marshall Mathers LP was released. I was, like, 12 and it was all the rage. Many of my peers weren’t allowed to have the uncensored version but my mom went out and bought it for me because, “You know the words anyway and we know you’ll get it without our permission.” Later that year, the Mark, Tom and Travis Show came out and a similar situation happened.
As I got older, high school parties became a thing. Three cases of Coors usually lasted all night. They never stopped me because they were of the mindset, “It was legal when we were in high school and we drank. It would be unfair to not let you.” I was lucky my parents and my friend’s parents were decent people. We would have parties, often with those I played hockey with as we were a tightknit group. The keys would be taken and people would stay the night. The problem is, a lot of people don’t have this and they go bananas when they go off to college. By the time I got to college, alcohol was already normalized and while I was drunk often, I knew my limits and how to behave under the influence.
Everyone knew those crazy, neurotic parents; hell some of you may have been raised by them. My parents always had a call policy, regardless of time and place, and if we drank too much, they would come get us. They also had this for my uncle, who was 20 years younger than my mother, so often through my childhood my uncle was on our downstairs couch hungover as fuck.
Even before college, my parents always offered to drink or smoke pot with me. I dabbled a bit but seeing them want to do it made me really reconsider the allure because if they did it, my inner rebellious teenage mind thought that it couldn’t be that cool anyway. They figured it’d be safer than if I went elsewhere and to be honest, my parents confessed later to it being a sort of reverse psychology.
These days, the laissez-faire parental model doesn’t seem to be the norm. More often, I see helicopter parents and those with a siege mentality. Every industrial van or ice cream truck is out to kidnap and everything is wrapped in bubble wrap. Oh, and speaking of wrap, my good ole mom offered to buy me condoms (not that I needed them in high school) to avoid any potential embarrassment (maybe Mrs. Duda should have offered this service to you).
As I got older, my parents became more like friends than parents. Even from a young age, my household was much like the Atticus Finch model as my parents were referred to by their first names. It wasn’t a rule or anything, it just kinda happened that way. They visited me at college and partied, emptying a handle of vodka between them and a few friends (they did take a quick pregame nap in my dad’s Man Van) but they rallied and cheered with the best of the fans.
In the end, they did the best they could and that’s all that anyone could ask. Parents are a strange concept: they raise you to grow up, yell at you when you act like them (where do you think the attitudes came from?), and send you off, only to be where they started. I’m not one for kids but if I ever have any and became half the parent mine were, I’d consider myself a resounding success. Even though my dad’s been gone for about three years now, I still make an effort to honor his memory and be the best person I can be. Hug your parents, call them and tell them you love them. It’s sometimes hard for me to get that across but one day, you’ll be all alone, a real orphan in this world and you’ll wish every day you could talk just once more.
Thanks for everything, mom and dad..
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Madoff
I specialize in damage control, being the drunkest at any and all functions and social assassination. Always appreciate a strong gif game. Follow me on Twitter. Sometimes I put up cool stuff about golfing at the local dirt tracks.
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Love the burn to Duda
I see what you did there
Damn. Right in the feels.
Madoff is the hero we need in this world.
Madoff: Making PGP Great Again
It’s amazing how certain rules your parents make seem like the most unfair thing in the world but looking back on it you’re happy they did it to you. After the third grade I wasn’t allowed to watch TV except on weekends, although I hated the rule it meant I was often outside with friends or reading books.
I miss the days of summer where you’d play until dinner and then go back out again and play manhunt.
I miss being able to just use other people’s yards as part of our games and just claiming to be an ignorant kid who didn’t know what property lines were.
Most uncomfortable discussion I had to have with my dad was when he found out I knew where his stash was and that I was taking some every now and then. “We don’t steal in this house. I paid for that, you did not. Get your own.” I never touched his stash again. My parents rocked.
I started dabbling my first year of college, and it was a very funny experience when while home on break and walking by my parent’s door I smelled my stepmother smoking. We’ve both helped each other out when the supply was dry and its one of the few things we can agree on.
Damn… I can’t relate to any of this. Uber conservative family that kept their thumb down on me. And that’s exactly why I went buck wild in college (beyond the usual) instead of focusing on learning. I promise myself everyday to let my future kids do their thing and that I won’t shield them from the world. PG fuckin P, man.
Killer write up, Madoff.
Yet another amazing piece, thanks Madoff. If only your ethics were as good as your written reflections on life.
To this day, I attribute me turning out to become a somewhat mature, successful and functioning adult to my parents raising me with relatively few boundaries.
They would generally let me do as I wish as long as it didn’t hurt me and never set curfews. If I ever messed up, I wouldn’t get grounded and instead I would just get a head shake from my mom and a “I’m disappointed in you.” That phrase stung more than any punishment.
When (if) I ever have kids, I hope to raise them the same way.
I need to know what a Man Van is ASAP
My dad drove a min van (it was a gift from his aunt in upstate NY). He always drove hilarious cars like a Cadilac Fleetwood. I always made fun of him for driving said mini van, referring to it as the Man Van.
well said. Im glad my parents raised me the way they did
Damn good stuff here. I honestly never thought about the relationship between my parents being laid back and me keeping my shit together/knowing my limits post high school. Looking back I’m 100% glad they did everything they did (except daycare that one summer when I was younger, that place was hell on earth and I hope it’s burned to the ground).