Memorable Monday to every legend, lurker, and keyboard warrior in X land and beyond!
Since Father's Day is this Sunday, I've decided to crank up the nostalgia machine and drop more stories about my Dad all week. Buckle up—it's officially Harold Bailey Chronicles season on Nathan’s Neighborhood.
Harold Bailey didn’t just cook... the man loved to cook and demolish plates like they personally disrespected him. Seafood, Chinese, Indian food—you name it, he was in there seasoning it to perfection while the rest of us circled like tiny hungry vultures.
The three of us (me and my sisters) were relentless. Every single time he sat down with something that smelled like heaven, we’d hit him with the big sad eyes and the classic “Dad, can I have a taste?”
His reply, delivered with chef-level timing:
“Your eyes may shine and your teeth may grit, but none of this Chinese food you will get.”
As kids? We were devastated. Straight betrayal. How could he do this to us?
As adults? 😂 Bro was a genius. That was Dad’s polite, poetic way of saying, “I raised y’all, I pay the bills, and right now this plate is *mine*. Go develop some independence, you little beggars.”
Lesson learned the hard way: You don’t get everything you ask for in life. Sometimes the universe (or your dad) just needs five minutes to enjoy his damn fried rice in peace.
For those of us of a certain age, we get it now. We still make those same dramatic kid faces when we remember our parents’ savage clapbacks. Respect to the OGs who survived raising us without losing their minds (or their egg rolls).
Thank you for reading this throwback edition of Nathan’s Neighborhood Chronicles. All week long we’re celebrating the amazing man I called Dad. More Harold Bailey stories incoming—stay tuned, family. ❤️