Thad

In response to Marie’s comment about a recent post as to who might choose to wear a cloak on a nice spring day? Thad. I am certainly inclined to agree and while I haven’t thought about Thad in some time, I think he deserves his own post. Thad or Thadeus is one of those characters you meet off hand that is so off the wall that they stick with you. In some regards its like the crazy neighbor on a sit-com that doesn’t fit in with the rest of the cast but adds untold enhancement to the story. Thad was like that for the house I lived in during my undergraduate days. He worked with a couple of my roommates and would show up to parties, sometimes invited…sometimes not. To give you all a picture, I need you to imagine a 6ft tall guy wearing mostly black…always with boots and a somewhat gaunt face (not skeletor gaunt…but close). Aside from being our only regular goth party attendee…Thad was full of stories and opinions. I can remember quite vividly offering him a beer (probably a coors light…as I was prone to drinking cheap beer at parties and this was tolerable) and getting a lecture about how he would never drink a coors product. He turned out to be quite the beer snob and wasn’t afraid to let you know it. Of course, he rarely showed up with beer and thus would end up raiding our bar or scamming brews off of some more upper crust party goers. One time, I found him drinking my better micro-brew beer that he found hidden in the back of the fridge and criticizing it for being too hoppy…I wanted to smack him in the face with a coors light and say, “bring your own then!” Of course, being rather spineless and still quite fond of his other crazy traits, I let him drink it and then hid the rest so he wouldn’t take them too. Another interesting side note is that Thad didn’t like being called Thad…he wanted to be called Thadeus. Of course this begs the questions, and I asked it, “Does anyone call you Thad?” I was thinking maybe an uncle or nephew or someone might or maybe only Mom was allowed. No no…the answer was far better. To illustrate I will give a transcript of the conversation as best I can remember it.

 

Brian (roommate at the time): Hey Pat, this is Thadeus he works with me.

Me: Hey thadeus…can I call you Thad?

Thad: No…nobody calls me thad.

Me: Really? Nobody…somebody must have called you that before me.

Thad: Yea…one person.

Me: Who was that?

Thad: The coach of the 1980 mens US hockey team…and when he did, I punched him in the face.

Me (Wondering why this person is in my home and becoming a bit nervous and confused): Oh really, why did you do that.

Thad: Because he called me thad.

Me: Right…stupid question. Someone get me a beer.

 

I was astounded and figured that I must be off the wall drunk…did he say the coach of the 1980 men’s hockey team? Brian confirmed…yes the coach of the “miracle on ice” hockey team was punched in the face by a 7 year old Thadeus.  So given his response there is still some animosity between thad and herb brooks. Of course if Thad reads this post…I might get punched in the face but at least I would be in good company. Lastly, Thad would tend to get drunk at our house and end up wandering off. Apparently on more than one occasion he was picked up by police after trying to sleep it off outside someplace. They would invariably bring him back to his mothers house (which is really the only place you can bring a 6ft tall drunk goth guy with some unresolved naming issues). I always wondered why he didn’t end in jail for the night and why when I needed a ride home myself I always had to find someone. Not once did they police ever pick me up…perhaps I shouldn’t be complaining about such things. Patrick OUT!!!

 



2 comments:

Jen said...

I don't know why, but I always thought that "Thad" was some guy that you all made up. Didn't he "live in the basement" at some point? I was seriously out of the loop...

Patrick said...

he was in deed a real person...since he used to disappear a lot we just figured he was hiding in the basement...ya know, all black...dark basement, he would have been easy to miss

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