Sunday, October 30, 2005

Okay, here we go

Actually, at first I didn't feel like writing the third and (hopefully) last part of my upbringing but after having written just a little bit in Notepad my narcissism took over. As usual, I might add.

For those of you who haven't read the first two parts they are here and here.

We are now in the fall of 1969. My father had an argument with his female boss and quit his job as a foreman at a travelling funfair. He had just bought his first house and was deep in dept. Well, not all that deep, but he was worried. A good indication of this was that his temper, that always had been bad, got worse. He was seriously thinking of changing his career of choice but luckily he gave it some time.

That fall my mother stayed at home with us in our new house while dad travelled around as much as he could with his pop corn-stand, selling pop corn, cotton candy and sweets. He earned money enough to make ends meet and then some more. He travelled around up until a few days before Christmas and then I think he slept for a week.

During his travels he had met a guy who just had started his own travelling funfair. This guy knew what my father was capable of in terms of hard work and asked him to join him as partner. My father agreed, but only on the condition that they would be separate funfairs, working together. The other guy agreed on the condition that they travelled under his name.

Early spring of 1970 my father made contact with a some of his former bosses, asking them if they had some funfair attractions to let. One of them had a small Roller coaster that was ment to be scrapped, but if my father wanted it, he could rent it. My father had been working with it before and knew that it was a favourite among kids. Since it had been travelling in the northern part of Sweden for the last thirty years and had done pretty well, he figured that it might be worth while. He was right.

The Roller coaster, together with his pop corn-stand, surpassed all expectations for that first summer. I didn't know about that, because I spent the whole summer holidays in Germany with my grandmother. It wasn't until my father died last year that I found out why my parents sent me there. My mother was pregnant and they left the baby up for adoption. So, somewhere in Sweden, I have a baby brother whom I've never seen.

This is a bit of a mystery since my father always said that all kids should be welcome, no matter what. I know that it must have hurt both my parents badly to leave a kid up for adoption and I believe that if they had known that things only would get better, they never would have done it. My mother loves kids, so it must have broken her heart and my father must have felt that he didn't do "the right thing", for once in his life.

The next few years we travelled around the southern parts of Sweden and my father added more and more attractions to his part of the funfair. Then, the summer of 1976, I quit ninth grade at school. (School is mandatory for nine years.) That last year was the first year I wasn't happy at school.

Since my family always considered me as being the one with a brain made for studying, I took them by complete surprise not wanting to continue at higher education. Today, I could slap myself for making such a stupid decision but at that point it was only to be a year, maybe two, before I returned to learning stuff. Of course, it never happened. Why? Short answer = Sex!

I still consider the summer of 1976 to be my best summer ever. That summer I met enough girls, and had sex with them, to last me a lifetime. Considering that I was a skinny, long-haired, often dirty and smelly teenager, I still can't fully understand what they saw in me. I believe that most of the credit has to go to my unusual line of work and that women's liberation had really started rolling the year before.

Next summer, my father made me work so hard that I hardly got any time left for persuing the ladies. I did that anyway but not all that much.

Now we step forward until we're at late fall of 1978. I was busy taking my driver's licence and spent much time together with my two best friends. We called it studying. Others would most certainly call it hanging around, doing nothing. One of my friends recieved a call from a girl that sometimes had helped out at the funfair. She asked if she and her sister could come over for a chat.

I knew both of the girls pretty well. The elder of the two hade a face that resembled the face of Betty Boop. She was a little on the chubby side and interested in one of my friends. The younger was... well... a drop-dead gorgeous red-head with lot's of attitude. I had a little crush on her but since she was only fourteen and I was soon to be eighteen, I considered her a bit too young. And I never, ever, thought that this gorgeous little female had had her eyes set on me for a long time. But I was soon to be corrected.

I'll cut it short and just tell you that we had the most wonderful relationship for six and a half years. For a long time, I compared every woman I met with her. In some ways I still do.

My father and his patner decided to split up in 1980. At this time, my father made twice the money compared to the partner. Something the partner's wife envied. My parents needed a new place to harbour the attractions and bought an old farm. They kept the old house, just in case someone wanted to rent it.

I continued working at the funfair until it was time for my compulsary military service in 1981. A year later I moved together with my girlfriend in a flat outside Malmö. I started to work for Saab. My father was both relieved and disappointed. Relieved because I had left the funfair and disappointed because I didn't study. He always thought I would be the one who would become an academic.

Around 1985 my father's bad temper took a turn for the worse. The rest of the family had a saying: If he's not yelling, we'd better call an ambulance.

My mother finally convinced him to visit a doctor. Fair enough, he had diabetes and it was really bad. He could have gotten into a coma just about anytime. A year later he suffered a mild stroke and that really scared him. He started to eat more healthier food.

From this point on there isn't that much more to tell. Both of my sisters left the funfair too, mostly because of my father yelling. I took on almost any job I could get my hands on and even went to vocational school to learn how to mill and turn.

1989 I met the girl that was to become my wife, knocked her up four times and then my father died of cardiac arrest on the 21st Febuary 2004. He died in an instant, sitting in his couch with the remote in his hand, zapping between channels. As my mother said: One second he was there, the next second he was gone. Two months later LittleAngel was born.

The funfair is now managed by my baby brother and my mother. Next year might very well be the last year the funfair exists. That's sad, but that's life.


ScandinavienNova said...

You know what you should do? Post that picture of your dad that I love so much. You know, that you have on sockerdricka. :)

PissedOffPencil said...

My sisters will hate me for it, but I will post it on flickr... ;o) and only accesible for friends and family. My sisters want to keep it "in the family". They are together with idiots, so I don't care.

Virginia Gal said...

Gosh,thank you for sharing. Wow, a lot has happened to you. Your life would make for an incredible book, perhaps you could consider that for sometime in the future.

ScandinavienNova said...

Speaking of something else then the lovely pic of your dad.. :).. Do you know a good dictionnary-site beside

I need to be abel to spell..!! *S*


ScandinavienNova said...

Thank you my dear one for the links..But try my wine instead of your Rum and Coke you might get it right the first time ;)

And thank you so much for the last link as are an angle without the curly hair!! *kramar*

Francesca said...

I tried to post a comment a number of times last night but for some reason it wouldn't post!!!

Anyway, it sounds like you have had a very interesting life. I think it is true when they say everyone has a story. Each one is unique and special.

I am sorry about the passing of your father. It sounds like he may have had a bit of a temper, but he did his best for his family and that is important, too.

Something I have always found interesting - intriguing - is when one family member dies and shortly thereafter another is born (or there is news of a pregnancy in the family). It's like the passing of the baton in the race of life. Amazes me all the time.

Thanks for sharing your story. I enjoyed reading about it.

PissedOffPencil said...

Virginia Gal: If there's anyone that really should have his life described in a book, that person is my father. Listening to him telling stories about his childhood in post-war Germany and how he got into travelling funfairs was our favorite past-time when we were kids. :)

Francesca: Yes, that's something that intrigues me too. :)