After my step dad stopped drinking

A Story by cjannerbo

After my step dad stopped drinking things became alot let interesting

After my Step Dad stopped drinking

things became much less interesting

By: Conn Jannerbo

My stepfather is a brilliant, very funny, and very generous man, and a person I deem as one of my best friends on this earth. For as long as I’ve known Thorpe, he’s never been one to shy away from a drink. Straight Tito’s on the rocks was his favorite. I’ve watched that man engulf a fifth of Tito’s in an evening. It truly is a god given gift, and he never did it in a hurry either. It wasn’t like in the movies when someone drinks to hide from something; for him, it was purely a daily ritual. Thorpe was the best kind of drunk you’ve ever met in your life. Once Thorpe got a couple pops in him, he was rolling; in a weird way, it really brought out the kid in him. He’d tell funny stories at the dinner table, he’d stay up late, and goddamn he could play some music. Some of my best memories with Thorpe have been on evenings when he was drinking. It may seem sad to read this, but Thorpe really did love to drink, and now that he doesn’t do it anymore, he seems less happy and I miss the kid in Thorpe, and to be honest, I think he does too.

One of my fondest memories with Thorpe was when we were down in a place called Apalachicola, Fl. Apalch isn’t much; all it is is a run down old fishing village, with a couple restaurants and cheap gift shops. But it’s a pretty good goddamn place, we spend a lot of time there. So every summer my mom has the same brilliant idea and that's to have some of our family down there, and every year it ends the same way, in promises of never doing that trip again. So this summer during the 3rd attempt of this so called family vacation we were driving home from dinner and we pass a group circled up playing music on the side of the road. Thorpe and I could both see from the drive by that these guys were playing bluegrass instruments, and he looked back at me from the front of the car and says “Conn what do you think? Wanna go home and grab a banjo and guitar and head back over there?” not knowing any better and hoping Thorpe will have forget about the people I respond sarcastically “sure, Thorpe.”

Once we got back to the house Thorpe jumped out of the car and sprinted up stairs out of curiosity I followed Thorpe and asked him what he was doing and he said “what the hell do you think I’m doing I’m looking for my goddamn finger picks.” He then proceeded to ask me to get his banjo, and make sure to get the one he likes. I brought my guitar and his banjo down stairs and put them by the door, a little part of myself hoped that he would pass out in bed, so I wouldn’t have to explain to him why I didn’t want to do this. But sure enough a couple minutes later here comes, Thorpe practically falling down the stairs.

He says “so you ready to go?” I look at my mom hoping that she will be the voice of reason in this situation, but she simply smiles and gives a barely audible chuckle. So Thorpe says “What’re you waiting for? you gonna put the instruments in the car or not?” I think to myself “I guess I’m going to be the voice of reason in this situation.” I try to talk Thorpe out of this by saying stuff like what if these people are rapist and drug us or what if they pull out some knives and rob us? I was very concerned with all the possible outcomes of this situation. Thorpe always had a funny way of laughing at this kind of stuff, he’d c**k he head back a little and just go Ha! So somehow I found myself driving down the road with Thorpe in the passenger seat, while he takes pulls from his red solo cup. We finally pulled up on the opposite side of of the road where the barrel fire was burning and there the players were. Right before we hopped out of the car, I looked at Thorpe and said “are you sure you want to do this” he just looked at me and said “stop being a baby,” we pulled the instruments out and started walking across the road.

The group looked suspiciously at us and Thorpe belches, probably louder than he should “you folks mind if we join you” they very politely invite us strangers to sit down and join in. Before I continue on with the story, Thorpe is a very humble man and will never admit it, but he is one of the greatest banjo players in the state of Tennessee. I cautiously sit down and pull out my guitar, as Thorpe whips out his banjo as fast as he can, he slides on his finger picks, and starts playing runs on the banjo that cause the other players jaws to drop. He then takes a big sip from his solo cup and releases a big “Ahh” and asks the group with partially slurred words “what tunes y'all pickin’” What seemed to be the leader of the group, a man playing a martin D-28, says “oh, nothing in particular, why don’t you take one away” it seemed to be almost an initiation for us, leading the group of about 8 people in a tune. Thorpe without saying anything just starts plucking away on the banjo, normal procedure would be to say what song he’s playing but Thorpe never been one much for procedure. But luckily, it was a very familiar tune to me and all the pickers. Thorpe hammered out the first solo as fast and as clean as I had ever heard, with cheers from the on looking audience, the next verse continued on and then thorpe hit me with this glare saying in unspoken words your up, I pick the next solo with a couple whistles, hoots, and hollers from the crowd, slowly gathering. As the final solo coming up unexpectedly the mandolin player sitting across from me took it, and it was a jaw dropping solo, it was some of the best mandolin playing I’d ever heard.

After the song, all the players looked around at each other smiling including me. Thorpe and I stayed and played with these people on the side of the road playing music late into the salt stained night. I finally loaded up our instruments into the car, and helped Thorpe into the car. On the drive home I said to Thorpe “you were right, thorpe” he cocked is head slightly to the left to look at me and said almost slurred “I’m not sure what you're talking about, but if I’m trusting my gut on something, you better f*****g believe; I’ll be right.” I still play with those guy when I’m in apalach

Another great thing about Thorpe is he is an unbelievable fly caster. He’s one of the best I’ve ever seen, and he’s taught me mostly everything I know about it. He’s a damn good teacher too. It’s not because he’s patient in fact it’s because he’s the exact opposite. When he teaches you something, it sticks.

One time, I had a couple friends down to Thorpe’s farm in north Florida, it’s called Sunny Hill. It’s a special place. So I had my friends David King and Sutton Mahon down to Sunny Hill and believe it or not that evening Thorpe had been having some Tito’s. So our ritual down at Sunny Hill was to drive around at night with a spot light and try to kill varmints, and depending on what we killed, Thorpe would pay us. So we finally come back to the house at about 11:30 empty handed and Thorpe is sitting in the living room, reading some old hunting book. He belches at us “how’d it go out there boys?” we gave him the appropriate response. He chuckles to himself.

We sat around and talked with Thorpe and he told us funny jokes and stories about hunting and fishing all over the globe, and funny things he encountered. His favorite thing to do to freak out my friends was to tell them about his time in Argentina. He’d always talk about the time he ran into an anaconda while duck hunting. He said that “ the anaconda got a hold of me, so I laid real still and got my knife in my hand and to let it start eating me, and once the snake got to about my waist I cut the snake down the jaw on both sides, and crawled right out” I’ve never believed it, but he claimed it happened, and with Thorpe you never really know.

After the appropriate amount of stories Thorpe had a brilliant idea. He asked Dave and Sutton if they wanted a fly casting lesson. Both of them not wanting to be rude accepted the invitation. So Thorpe started looking around and finally found a fly rod. He went outside into the pitch black dark, and started casting in the grass. We pulled the car around, so that there was ample lighting for the lesson. What was great about Thorpe is to us he was always one of the boys; he was someone you could really be yourself around, and he wasn't afraid to be himself either. He’d say stuff like “listen up, fuckers”, “you cast like a p***y”, and “that was the worst cast I’ve ever seen”. It was always an amusing time to watch Thorpe get frustrated with one of my friends when they didn’t do exactly what he said.

About thirty minutes into out lesson Thorpe made a cast, lost his balance, and fell over. We were all standing up over him laughing, and he started yelling “You s**t heads better stop laughing at me, goddamnit. I’m serious help me up you d*********s.” We finally got him to his feet and he said slurring “now we’ve got that out of the way, let's continue.” After another five minutes Thorpe took another tumble, and the three of us ended up carrying Thorpe into to bed, my mom got pissed off as always when Thorpe has to much to drink and makes a fool of himself.

My friends at school still bring up that story, and we always have a good laugh about it, but the best damn part about all this, is Dave and Sutton actually got better at fly casting because of it. Friends who have heard about that episode often ask me if that actually happened, and I still say “Once Thorpe has a couple pops anything can happen”

I could write down hundreds of stories about Thorpe, I could tell you about what happened to the cat or the best way to catch a coyote, but I think I’ve told you enough. I’ll save those stories for another day. Thorpe gave up drinking 8 months ago for health purposes, and things have been different around here ever since. I don’t ever expect to show this to him, but maybe one day. As sad as it is to say, Thorpe isn’t as young as he use to be, and he’s gotta take care of himself if he wants to be around for another while, but if there is one thing, I hope I can see one more time is the kid in Thorpe.