Anthony Fioranelli

Anthony Fioranelli

  • Anthony Fioranelli
    Published 2 months ago
    My Father My Hell

    My Father My Hell

    As a father, I always tried to do right by my kids; I wasn’t always successful. It was probably because there wasn’t anyone in my life growing up that I could learn from. So I pretty much flew by the seat of my pants. All I knew was that I wasn’t going to treat my kids the way I was treated. I think in that regard I was successful. You see, I don’t have one good memory of me with my father. Anytime we were together it turned out to be a disaster. Even a simple trip to the beach was traumatic. I was a fat kid, go figure, and he insisted that I wear the same orange spandex trunks as him. I don’t have to elaborate on that do I? So, here I am at ten years old in orange spandex trunks, and now, it’s time to learn how to swim. Being in the Navy earlier in his life, he was an expert on all things water. In his infinite wisdom, to teach me how to swim, he thought it best just to throw me in deep water, then he told me to swim to him. When I started to sink like a rock, he became angry, snatched me out of the water, then went fishing, leaving me totally embarrassed and looking stupid in those orange spandex trunks.