Like Father Like Daughter

One of my most prized possessions is my charcoal gray, 2008 Mustang GT; my first big, post-graduation purchase. Lately I’ve had issues with the air conditioning in the Moostang, as it’s lovingly been nicknamed by my father, and after returning to the dealership multiple times to have it worked on, all I can think is, “I’m tired of being jacked around by the mechanics.”

The love of the Moostang is something I share with my Dad, the man who oh-so-wisely advised me on the purchase of the car, “If you’re going to get a Mustang, you might as well get a GT.” But no, Mom, I’ve never gotten it up over 100 miles per hour on the highway… :0)

My Dad grew up in south Texas, a culture that graced him with an affinity for hunting and fishing, an accent that surfaces when he’s speaking with his family and a charming vocabulary. Growing up I didn’t question this vocabulary, and I have to say it’s a wonder I now work in the communications field.

Up until I was 19 I still thought a hitch haul was called a ‘Chingaletta.’ And then there are the phrases, phrases my mother always manages to butcher. Dad's ‘Colorado Barking Spider’ soon became the Dohmann-infamous “South American Karate Lizard” thanks to Mom.

Flashback to sixth grade. Grouped with many kids I didn’t know well, I tried to stand out as a star pupil and thespian in the drama class we cycled through as an elective. Improvisational skits were a favorite of our young, bible-thumping drama teacher. I was called up to improv with two guys from our class, the rebellious ones. The punk kids in their Jnco jeans and shaggy hair.

The scene: we were coworkers in the break room at the office. Small talk. Chatter. I was frustrated they weren’t taking this seriously. “Ok guys, you need to get back to work now.” “We don’t have to listen to you,” they said. “Yes you do, I’m the doctor and you’re nurses so that means I’m the boss.” Chatter chatter.

“Guys, I’m not kidding, it’s time to get back to work. All you’re doing is standing around…” thinking thinking, ah – something Dad would yell at us when we were being loud and noisy at home. “jacking off!” –or was it jacking around? Too late.

The class got quiet. The teacher’s eyes widened. “Well it’s a good thing you caught us, then,” the boys snickered. The teacher quickly broke up the scene and I sat back down. Quiet laughs around the room. I had no idea what the deal was. Should I be embarrassed?

It would be much later that I understood what I had said, and sometimes my stomach still does a little turn for that innocent overachiever in the improv skit.







Dad and I pre-A&M football game.