A night in the clink due to dad

It’s not just on Father’s Day that I think of Dad. Quite often lately I think I see him before realizing it’s just the reflection of me in a mirror.

I hope the stories I tell my daughters don’t have the same effect on them my father’s stories had on me.

Dad told great stories. Some – involving women and alcohol -- I seldom repeat, but have never forgotten. Others I tried to top.

I blame him for the time I spent behind bars in Eureka. Dad often talked about hitchhiking around the country before the start of WWII. If he didn’t have a place to spend the night he’d often ask to sleep in the local jail, and that request was generally granted.

That’s what I remembered in November 1970 while standing alongside Highway 93 in a snowstorm with my thumb out. No one was stopping. It was getting dark.

I decided to take Dad’s advice, and walked back into town where there was a light on at the cop shop. The officer on duty said: “Sure, you can stay here,” and opened the door to cell at the back of the building. He told me he had to lock me in, but someone would let me out in the morning.

That turned out to be an empty promise.

I threw my pack on one bunk and rolled out my sleeping bag on the stained mattress of another. There was a single tiny window that let in light from the outside.

Up at dawn, I politely knocked on the door and received no response. Again I knocked and again nothing. I could hear voices in the adjoining office, but no one was responding.

I remember thinking: “Thanks, Dad.”

An hour later a Highway Patrolman opened the door and tossed me a couple of True Detective magazines while I frantically tried to explain my plight. He said nothing and just shut the door again.

It wasn’t until mid-afternoon when the officer that had let me in returned that I was finally released.

I remember telling Dad that story. He got a kick out of it but took no responsibility.

Fortunately my father was a good man so emulating him was a positive thing for the most part. His virtues were many, his vices few. He’s been gone nearly 14 years now. I haven’t spent a night behind bars for almost 50.

Parker Heinlein is at [email protected]