This week I'm proud to have Steve Pascover, my very own father, as a guest.
The old feller defined
Natural Selection this way:
I was given "natural selection" to define The theory of evolution arose from observation, and is best defined by example. Observe the development:
My daddy used to say, on the subject of cussing: "Stevie, just remember that profanity is the last refuge of the inarticulate - whatever the F*** that means" [I grew up in Missouri, where even fully grown men refer to their fathers as "daddy" and pay attention to what their father said. - Doug didn't grow up in Missouri]
My working definition is "use the words that make you understood."
My son Doug defined cussing as "to express with irrelevancies the most urgent compulsions of the heart"
So, the official definition is that an inheritable characteristic which produces differential survival is required, and the result, "Natural Selection" is the differential reproduction of genotypes [whatever the F*** that means]
More straightforwardly - "the good stuff that matters just keeps getting better" see, for example, the dynasty of PEZ.
About my old man: Dad was born in Missouri and reared there until my grandparents moved to Akron, Ohio where he became by all accounts unrearable. At least that's what Uncle Jimmy says. All I can say is I learned to growl at his paw and higher language from my mom.
Dad didn't talk much until he entered his fifties and hasn't kept quiet much since then. Like
his father did, my dad has a deep rough voice he loves to tell stories in. I'm pretty sure this trait ends with him although I'm a little worried about my brother. Dad contributed a lot to my upbringing and what discipline there was by a lot of methods, but it was the lectures that had the most impact. These were usually long enough to break a rebellious spirit in a way that spankings never quite could.
Dad's knowledge inspired his children's curiousity and I certainly thank him, alongside Mama, for the fact that I have something to blog about. The main thing to know about my old man is that every Saturday and Sunday, he drives 60 miles to go hiking with me and the dogs and on Sunday makes an additional trip of greater length in a different direction to play with his grandchildren who dote on him back.
Oh, and in the 70s he wore a huge Afro, pick and all.
At right, the old timer at Christmas, Elf portrayed by my step-sister, Laura (Enrique's daughter)How to be a future guest on this site: Just send an email to dpascover at mac dot com. On a future Wednesday, after posting that week's guest, I'll send you an email with a word to define. You'll be expected to return your definition along with a graphic representing either your definition or yourself by the following Saturday. The only rules are no profanity and no novels, please. And whatever I make up at the last minute.
