Final Word: Dad's advice was always short, tweet

By Craig Wilson, USA TODAY

My friend Madelyn stopped by the house the other day. We sat in the garden and solved the world's problems, as is our way. We discuss the big issues. Latest vacations. August in Saratoga. Our fathers and their manual typewriters.

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  By Alejandro Gonzalez, USA TODAY

By Alejandro Gonzalez, USA TODAY

I think her dad's was a Royal. My dad banged away on an Underwood.

They were very different men, I quickly learned. Madelyn's father typed her letters when she was in college, notes she kept and cherished until a summer renter threw them out for some reason.

My dad's letters during my college career were a bit more straightforward. More often than not he told me to straighten up and fly right. It was one of his favorite expressions, compliments of Nat King Cole.

It was also 1969, and many of us were doing our own thing, much to our parents' chagrin.

My dad died 15 years ago, but I can only imagine him today with, say, a Twitter account. He wouldn't be an Anthony Weiner, of course. Parents didn't have private parts back then, let alone photograph them and send the results to women in Seattle.

Instead, he'd be one of those people who tweet just to get his message out. Quickly. Efficiently. Succinctly.

STRAIGHTEN UP AND FLY RIGHT! he'd type. And that's only 29 characters, leaving him 111 left over to continue his message.

Dad was fond of capital letters and repetition. I suspect STRAIGHTEN UP AND FLY RIGHT! would appear again in the same tweet, just for good measure.

His trusty Underwood and the fantasy of Twitter aside, Dad's communication skills were excellent. And quite basic. He didn't have to say much to get his message across.

One night years ago I snuck into the house a bit late. I was a soon-to-be high school graduate with a midnight curfew after collecting speeding tickets with the help of my lead foot on the pedal of the family Camaro. It was 12:10 a.m.

As I tiptoed through the dining room and headed up the stairs, I heard the two words you didn't want to hear at 12:10 a.m.:

"Young man!"

Dad was sitting in the living room, in the dark, in his pajamas. I immediately turned around and approached the one-man tribunal.

My curfew turned into a grounding. I was sent to bed without wheels.

So I'm quite amused these days when I come upon a young father who is actually having a "discussion" with his son who is having a meltdown over whether he's going to get in his stroller .

I can hear my father's voice. "STRAIGHTEN UP AND FLY RIGHT! ? and get in that stroller. Now!"

E-mail cwilson@usatoday.com

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