My Parents are Insane

Disclaimer: You might read this and say, "I've met his mom, and she's a really nice lady, what's his problem?" But I assure you that she's been much nicer to you than she has to me or my dad, because she's more concerned with what you think.

Anywho, today I went to the funeral for one of my friends dads. It was a very nice service and everyone involved said very nice things about the deceased. But it got me thinking, "If my parents were to end up dead for whatever reason, would I really have anything nice to say about them?" I've now thought about it for a while, and I really haven't come up with anything.

So here's about what I'd say about my mom:

Charlotte Sue Schaffer White, born July 30th, 1956, deceased (insert date here). My mother taught by example. Unfortunately, it was a consistently bad example. Honestly, when I have an important decision to make, I think of what my mom would do, and then do the exact opposite. She was never tested, but I think she might have been borderline retarded. Saying that she spent money like a drunken sailor on a three-day pass would be a gross understatement. One time we passed a guy driving a Corvette in the opposing lane, when she said, "Well, I think that to be able to get a Corvette, you kinda have to do something wrong." To which I replied, "Mom with all the money you've charged on credit cards, you could have afforded a Corvette!" We then discussed the price of a Corvette and she confirmed that she indeed could have. In all honesty, my mom was never all that malevolent to me; as my dad said I was her "Golden Boy" and could do no wrong. But she treated my dad like a three-day used tampon that had given her TSS. She criticized literally everthing that he ever did. She even told him that his breathing did not meet her exceptionally high standards. The way she treated him probably caused more harm to me than any other single factor in my life... though this could be disputed considering the things she said to me that I dare not repeat over this pulpit...

For my dad:

Gary James White, born May 10th 1962, deceased, (insert date here). The great irony of my dad's life was that he spent his life at home working hard, and his life at work hardly working. When he was at home, he'd wake up at 4 am and work his @$$ off until 6 pm when he would promptly pass out in his uncomfortable chair. When he was at work he'd do his best impression of Wally from Dilbert; avoiding being seen or heard, and working. The thing that was really sad to me is that even when he was trying to have fun he was working his @$$ off. Him and I would go motorcycle riding, and he would ride until his legs and derriere were falling off (even though he rode a Honda, so it wasn't that hard). We'd go duck hunting until either he got a limit of ducks, or I passed out, whichever came first. There are some good things I can say about my dad. He was one of the smartest men I knew and taught me incredible lessons about planning ahead, but in the end, the thing which I will remember most is his die-hard tenacity which was much more of curse than a blessing.

I realized that this is an unfortunate commentary on life, but it's been burning on my mind for the last 8 hours, and was going to make it out one way or another. I realize that they have done the best they could with what they had to work with, but that doesn't make a very good eulogy. :P