My Dad Would Hate This

There is nothing I am prouder of than being told I am like my dad, Bob Kaseberg. My dad was a great guy. He died way too young at 62 when I was 30. I miss my dad a lot. 

When I was young, I was muscular. No lie. Ripped. From 14 to 40, I had six-pack abs before they were called six-pack abs. 

Now, at 57, I am too heavy. 

My daughter, Ann Caroline, the best thing to happen to me besides my wife, Virginia, came along when I was 40. As a result my cooking skills went up as my exercising skills went down. (And do not kid yourself, I am a damn good chef) Not that I am blaming my daughter for my being too fat, but, yes, it’s my daughter’s fault that I am too fat.

(To be kinder to myself, we are not talking about bathing-with-a-stick fat, just needs-to-lose-30-pounds fat) 

When my dad was young he was skinny. Skinny is a problem when you’re a guy. When he played football in the Army, my dad wanted to play tight end. His coach said, 

“Bob, you can run like a deer and you have great hands. But you are a wide receiver, you’re not big enough to be a tight end.” 

That broke my dad’s heart. (I inherited neither my dad's skinniness nor his good hands) 

As some of us do, when he got older, my dad put on a few pounds. Make no mistake, my dad was not what less sensitive people might call a fat guy, but he always wanted to lose about 25 pounds. Fine, 30 pounds. Like me. 

My dad was like me. He was way, way more sensitive than he appeared. My dad could give a good ribbing as well as anyone. Taking a ribbing? Eh. Not so much. Me too. I've been hearing the phrase, "You can dish it out, but you can't take it" my whole life.

My parents were like me, they were excellent judges of character.  As a result, they had amazing friends. Like I do. That is probably my single proudest achievement. My friends. 

But every now and then, because my parents threw parties, not often, but once in a great while, some guy they did not know well would come to the party, have a few drinks and, trying to be funny like my dad, this guy would make a joke about my dad’s stomach. Maybe even poke at it. 

You had to know my dad to know how much effort he put in to laughing off those jokes. But I could always see the hurt feelings in his eyes. It broke my heart. 

As a result, I am proud to say I have never teased anyone about their weight. 

Except for Charlie Bore, that guy was a freaking fat load.