Guy Talk

Sure I got a little hair-cut. Mom is in town and she thinks theshag style is “disreputable.” Am I a mama’s boy?Nope. Does she still help pay my tuition? Yup.

The parental units are in the house. Well not really. I madethem stay at the Radisson because I didn’t think I couldhandle my mother nagging me about how my kitchen rags don’tmatch the blinds in the living room. My dad thinks this is hischance to relive the glory days. I told him it isn’t possiblebecause they don’t make the kegs out of wood anymore, andshort shorts for guys went out of fashion 20 years ago.

When I started writing this column I was going to spend themajority of the page ripping into my parents in a playful manner.Then I realized unless the paper ran in font size 85, there is noway either one of them will be able to read it.

So instead, I have decided to explain my upbringing and how myparents molded me into the young man I am today.

I spent the majority of my childhood sick in bed, playingcomputer baseball while my grandfather read tales of pirates andknights and ladies in distress. Oh wait, that was the start of ThePrincess Bride. Shoot, I always mix them up.

I actually grew up in a household where the two-by-four was thejury, judge and verdict. My father felt that there was no littleincident that couldn’t be solved with a couple smacks of thelumber. My older sister, younger brother and I all felt the wrath.However, Pops always seemed to swing for the fences when I steppedup to the plate. By the fourth grade, I called the lady from familyservices Aunt Gretta. To give my father credit, the whipping musthave worked because when he stopped plunking me at the age offifteen, I was coincidently arrested for breaking the law.Don’t get any ideas Pops. My Father and I have always had anextremely understanding relationship. I understand not to piss himoff and he understands seven solid swats can usually leave my rearnon-functional. We never had a hug-and-kiss relationship. More of aswing-and- hope-he’ll-miss relationship. He never missed,dang it.

On the other hand, my mother and I have always been able to workthings out. Only because I found out she smoked pot in college, andI told her if she ever tries to yell at me, I would tell everyone.Oops. Mom always had a way of turning a bad day into a horribleweek. To hear the words “Guy John Bellaver” come out ofher mouth is to hear “dead man walking.” I still getchills just thinking about it. I actually never had many problemswith Ma, except for the “black book of death.” The bookis a chart that my mother kept anytime I owed her money. Mysophomore year in high school, my mother gave me a YOM (you owe me)card for Christmas that said “no Christmas present until Iget the $6.50 you borrowed to go to the movies last week.”She was freakin serious. My mom could make the Grinch look like thenicest guy in the neighborhood.

I have been lucky to form a mutual respect with both of myparents. The respect stems from how well I was able to deal withthe difficult decisions young adults are dealt in high school. Yeahright, high school was a breeze. I’m the one that put the dogpoop in the freshman lockers during prank week, ha. My Mom and Dadlive in a social cave, the world goes on around them with littleeffect to their lives. My dad doesn’t even know that theU.S.S.R .has been split. My Mom still thinks that those black andorange wax candies are kids favorites on Halloween. That is whathappens when you grow up in a household without cable. Ma says itrots the brain. Sure Ma, and that pot you smoked did wonders foryour brain cells. Honestly, I think most families in Third Worldcountries have cable in their homes.

I came to SMU because my parents wanted to send me far away toavoid the daily distractions I created around the house. Hmmm.Slept until noon, ate cereal, went back to bed until 3 p.m.,watched TV until 7 p.m., ate dinner, went out till midnight andwent back to bed. Yup, real distracting. I just think my parentswanted to reignite the flame. Too bad my little brother must havepeed on that flame. He was still home for the last three years.

So the padres (that is espanol for parents) are down in Big Dnow, and they want to know what I do in an average day. I told themit would be easier to explain what I don’t do. I don’tteach seals to bounce beach balls on their noses to the beat ofMichael Bolton’s greatest hits. Other than that, I have itcovered.

All joking aside, my parents have done a stellar job raising me.The mix between rules, freedom and respect allowed me to develop myown morals with a dash of their values and virtues. Iwouldn’t take back a moment of my childhood, except for thetime my mother ran over my leg (long story). My parents have doneeverything in their power to give me the best possible lifestylethey could manage. Not eating twice a week was never a big deal tome, sleeping on the floor isn’t that difficult, and airconditioning is over-rated. Caring for me to the best of theirabilities is all I could ever ask for.

Ma, Old Man— love ya both forever and always.

For questions, comments or concerns please e-mail Guy [email protected].