Dad gives advice on his special day

Who gives better advice than good ol' Dad?

Nobody!

That's why every year on this date (the third Sunday in June), I turn this column over to the greatest advice columnist in history.

Not Dear Abby. Not Ann Landers. Not Dear Prudence.

Dad.

The old man takes over with (possibly) real questions from (maybe) real readers. Do you want advice on this, the holiest day on the fathering calendar? Read on.

Dear Dad: My husband and I recently moved into an apartment that is perfect in every way except one: The upstairs neighbors are loud.

They stomp around at night. They play their TV loud. My husband pounds on the ceiling with a baseball bat, but they stomp on their floor in response. Should we complain to the landlord? My husband wants to take care of it without involving management, but I feel that's not safe. Please advise.

— Sleepless in Suisun City

Dear Sleepless: Neighbors can be a problem, although sometimes it works out, which reminds me of a kid who lived down the street from me when I was about 10 years old. His name was Jack. Or John. Something like that. Anyway, he thought he had the coolest bike in the neighborhood and probably did – but coolest didn't mean best.

One time my brothers and I built a ramp to let us jump over things: wagons, other bikes, even our youngest sister. This kid – maybe his name was Scott? – decided to make the jump. He went as fast as he could and as he was airborne, his feet came off the pedals and he completely missed the landing ramp and crashed. We laughed so hard we couldn't stand, but he knocked out his front teeth and bled all over the street. He had to get fake teeth, then his family moved away. Wait. Maybe his name was Jerry. Anyway, it was crazy.

Dear Dad: I sent Christmas gifts to my grandchildren in December, but never got a thank-you card. I believe you should always thank the sender of gifts, so they at least know you received them. Should I bring this issue up to their mother (my daughter)? I don't want to interfere, but I feel like they should send cards.

— Anxious Grandma

Dear Anxious: The best gift my grandma ever gave me was a gift card to Sam Goody that I used to get Van Halen's "1984" album. I guess it was probably the Christmas of 1984, right? I played that thing over and over and over. My friends liked "Jump" the best, but I was a big fan of "Panama" and, of course, "Hot for Teacher." I can see why people got tired of David Lee Roth, but the "Van Hagar" years were never as good for the band as when Roth was their lead singer. In my opinion, at least.

Dear Dad: I have a medical condition that permits me to get a handicapped parking sticker and because I don't have an obvious physical disability, people often shout at me. Please inform your readers that not every disabled person is obvious.

— Don't Shout at Me

Dear Don't Shout: Here's what I don't understand: Why people back into spots in parking lots. Those lots are designed so you have a lot of room to back out! It reminds me of when my dad used to shout at other drivers. He was convinced that Oregon had the worst drivers in the world, so every time he'd see someone with an Oregon license plate, he'd start cursing. That was while he was smoking his cigars, too, so it was sometimes hard to understand what he was saying. Funny that we didn't think anything of smoking in cars back in those days.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.