Welcome to my world - The world of Tish

Thursday, January 20, 2005

My one eyed father

Until I was half way through Kindergarten, I thought everybody's Daddy had a glass eye.

When my father was fifteen, an unfortunate accident involving a push mower took his left eye. That didn't stop him from pursuing his football, track, and girl chasing dreams. Since he was a running back, he took many hard hits, some hard enough to pop the glass eye out onto the field. The first referee to witness this event lost all of his lunch. The announcer called a time out for "Equipment failure on the field" - I guess a glass eye could be considered equipment. The opposing team's defensive back usually left Daddy alone after that. Track didn't jar his eye so much, so he relied on his fast feet to qualify for state three years in a row.

My father's passion is jewelry and clock repair. Even with one eye, the man can spot a flaw in a millisecond and fine tune even the screwiest grandfather clock. Just for fun, he'll put the loop on his left eye and proclaim you have the Hope diamond.

Growing up with a one eyed father has its advantages. You've been swatted at by your parents while they drove down the road, right? When our Dad was driving, all we had to do was lean away from his haphazard blows but God help you if he made contact with the hand with the diamond studded nugget ring. When I started dating, the boys and men eventually learned not to stand or eat on his blind side. Sometimes I think he positioned them there on purpose, but I can't be sure.

He scratched his good eye once and had to wear a patch for three days. Pretty scary time but also very frustrating when you have to give play by play on The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly which he had seen at least fifty times.

One of the greatest compliments I've ever received is "You are so much like your Daddy." He can sell ice to the eskimos, sell bacon to a devout Jew, and eat from your plate without offending you. He's the greatest man I've ever known. But he can drive you to drink rubbing alcohol sometimes.


  • Oh my God, TIsh. This post is so funny & sweet. i don't know if I should laugh to cry! I LOVE YOUR DAD!!!! (And your blog!) Thanks for inviting me. I WILL be back. xo

    By Blogger Last Girl On Earth, at 12:29 AM  

  • My dad lacked depth perception too, but it was figuritive. Alcohol may be a factor.

    By Blogger Phil, at 11:06 AM  

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