(Written by Sadie, Titled by Dustin)
When I was growing up, Bogeys was where my dad would take us for a treat while in town running errands. I loved sitting in his diesel work truck knowing I would soon get to pick what flavor I wanted to mix in my shake. I am mint Oreo chocolate chip. Dad is chocolate. Sometimes if we hadn't eaten dinner I would get a cheeseburger wrapped in foil and some curly fries with cheese.
I love to remember how it felt to have my dad adore me, his little girl in braids seat-belted next to him in his greasy truck. We would listen to oldies radio 98.5, eat cheesy fries with a fork, and our shakes with a plastic spoon. Bogey's is still a stop I make every time I go home. It was where I went on my first date. Where we went after Sunday-night church. Where I take out-of-town visitors. Where my nephew had his first birthday party. It looks the same as it did when I was 5--a bright red tin ceiling, big green booths, photos of Marilyn Monroe, old movie posters, huge windows, and a pair of ruby red slippers.
As I got older, the trips with dad were fewer.
"Anybody want to run into town with me tonight?"
Most of the time my older siblings would be gone and Matt and I would be busy playing outside or watching TV. We started saying no. Dad used Bogey’s as leverage.
"I'll take you to Bogey's!"
The bribe worked, especially for me...for awhile.
I’m not sure how old I was the first time I turned him down, but I remember feeling guilty. I pictured him going into town all by himself, but I didn't want to leave what I was doing and waste time. It was one of those moments when you feel grown up all of a sudden. The ice cream bribery hadn't worked because I was becoming more mature and losing my innocence. My priorities had changed.
But it wouldn't have been a waste of time.
I would never turn him down again. I’ve come to the point in my life when I know nothing in the world would be more important than a trip to Bogey's with my father.
(And Dustin's response)
The things we learn as we go, we gain as we grow, and will forever know… instead of writing a reflection, i decided to title your piece for you. i think you said it all. it's a beautiful story. i got a little teary eyed actually. u are beautiful and you are right to never turn him down again. i'll tell u a similar story; i grew up in a small beach town on an eastern island in the center of the state of florida. for a long time it was just me, my brother and my father. we lived about 10 miles each way from any civilization other than small houses and some beach access community centers. there was however, a tiny jiffy mart directly across from my house. our tiny beach house split the distance between the two towns north and south of us. there was a blinking light and one gas station, the jiffy. my brother and i would get home from school around 2;30 and my dad usually didn't get home until about 6. he would bring dinner or cook when he got home and then we'd do the usual weeknight activities that normal families do; watch tv, do homework, talk about our days, etc... my dad had this change jar in his room and sometimes in the afternoon my brother and i would take change from it and go across the street to buy candy or snacks. we didn't see it as stealing, but we never told him about it. one day he noticed a large amount of change missing and he asked us about it. we told him the truth, that we sometimes take change to buy candy or snacks from the jiffy mart. he didn't yell. he just told us he needed to be alone. he went and sat on the back porch stairs that led down to the beach next to this old rotted dead tree. we watched from the window for a while and we could see that he was crying... we never talked about it again, any of us. i was about 10 years old. since that day my brother and i have never taken a penny from my father without conversation. we learned something huge that day. we learned that disappointment and heartbreak are far worse punishments than being in trouble. we also learned how much we loved him and how it was our responsibility to be honest with him and with each other.
