All the learnin’ my father paid for was a bit o’ birch at one end and an alphabet at the other.
I pressed my father’s hand and told him I would protect his grave with my life. My father smiled and passed away to the spirit land.
A father is always making his baby into a little woman. And when she is a woman he turns her back again.
There’s sometimes a weird benefit to having an alcoholic, violent father. He really motivated me in that I never wanted to be anything like him.