The Yeager Road Diaries: The Madness of King George

My dad's name is George Calvin Eason. He has been my dad since my mother married him in 1974. He's been a good dad and a bad dad... but he has been my dad without fail. Dad is a self made man. He taught himself to read in a one room house in rural, South Georgia. Dropped out of school when he was 12 to support his family and went back and got his GED on his own. Everything he has he earned with his own sweat. When I was little I used to call him King George (he never got the historical reference).

Over the years my dad has mellowed a lot, he and I have grown closer and he has come to finally respect me as I have come to respect him. I think he really came to know what I was about the first time I built a computer for him. Dad is a mechanic and really appreciates and respects anyone who works on cars well... Computers are like really complex cars to dad... *smile* So now (in his eyes) I am the Sam Memolo of computers.

Dad made a pleasantly unexpected appearance this weekend to do some Christmas shopping and to visit with me, mom and Shell... (Which is why I missed 's party... and deeply apologize for that).

Dad has become quite the character over recent years. Last year I bought him a DVD player and mom bought him a High-dollar VCR in hopes that it would motivate him to finally buy a new TV... One year later, still no TV. So while he and I were shopping this weekend, I helped him choose a new TV that we will shop for this January. It's like having children older than you... *laugh*

Dad has some strange shopping ideas:

• If you spend 45 minutes finding a parking space closer to the store, you saved time:We managed to resolve this little piece of Eason folklore by taking my Truck. Despite the fact that dad DID point at a few empty spots, we managed to get things done without wasting time on parking spaces.


• If you buy someone a present, they will be disappointed, so give them cash : Last year I took dad shopping for mom and Shell and he did an excellent job. When Christmas day came he gave me $100.00 and a sheepish look. *smacks forehead* This year after guiding him to the places and the things that interested Mom and Shell, we traded partners and Mom took dad to buy my Christmas. I am determined to tech this man to be responsible and buy things for others, without fear, if it kills me.


• Christmas is an excellent time to convince his son that his bigoted, back-woods, emotion-driven Attitudes are correct: Dad thought it would be a good time to support the stupid notion that domestic partners do not deserve death benefits because they aren't next of kin. After he saw my sweet, condescending smile, he knew he was beat. All I said was: "Wouldn't Shell deserve survivor benefits if I died?" (Dad adores Shell). He hemmed and Hawed and said "Yes." And then I said: "The does it really matter what sex the partner is? How does it harm you? Does it affect you in any way?" He smiled, looked up at me sheepishly, shook his head 'No' and changed the subject.


• Time with family means time watching football: Rather than vegetate in front of the tube, dad was hauled from mall to mall and mall to restaurant and out to Lake Lanier... he was forced to have fun.

I love my dad; He is, in many ways, an emotional, older version of myself, and that is not all bad. He has a way to go in many areas of his life, he is learning to mellow and to not be so judgmental and to be a good father, a wise man and a worthy king of his castle and slowly the madness dies; the madness of King George.