RaisingDad

On Christmas Eve Day, while my father has been enthusiastically zzzzzzing, I have been in the attic busy finding and separating and rearranging all the holiday boxes that contain our holiday decorations. Boxes, boxes, and more boxes. Once Christmas is over, and we pack everything up, there will be  still more boxes.      Where do they end?      I'd ask my wife, but she'd only get mad. I don't mind the silent treatment, what I mind is the lack of womanly affection that comes with the silent treatment at no extra cost.      Every year, when I put them back in our attic, I stack them neatly and with great care. When the holiday comes rolling back around, I don't know how they get mixed in with all the other holiday boxes we have there, or who goes up there and mixes them in with all the other holiday boxes, but mixed in is the condition I find them in.      I don't...

Life does take some strange turns, and, unfortunately, we have no control of the steering wheel.      The other day I told my wife, "Honey, I'm not complaining, but babysitting an old man was not what I had in my mind when I retired."      She gave me The Look. I think the flowers on our kitchen table began to wilt from the invisible lasers that were emanating from her eyes.      "You can make your own coffee," she told me.      "That's not the only thing you'll be making on your own," her Look interjected.      "Honey, sweetie, baby" I interjected myself, "I'm just joking. You know me. I like to joke."      Hey, I like my coffee in the mornings. Among other things.      But it's true. I had no idea I'd be taking care of an almost 100-year-old man who eats more in three meals than I do in three days. He snacks all day l...

Yesterday Morning   My wife to my father: "Tomorrow you have a doctor's appointment."      My father to my wife: "Who has a doctor's appointment?"      " You have a doctor's appointment."      " I  have a doctor's appointment?"      "Yes, you have a doctor's appointment."      "Why?"      "It's your yearly check-up."      "My what?"      "Your yearly check-up."      "There something wrong with me?"      "No, it's just your yearly check-up."      "My yearly check-up?"      "Yes, your yearly check-up."      "Then there's nothing wrong with me?"      "No, Dad. there's nothing wrong with you."      "If there's nothing wrong with me, then why do I have to go...

Once upon a time, two Saturdays ago, my grandson had just been dropped off for a visit and wanted to race.      "Why not?" I thought to myself. He's only four-years-old. What chance does he have of beating me, The Great One? That's what they used to call me in back in school when I was on the track team. Well... that's what I used to call myself, but the nickname never stuck.      My grandson yells " GO! " and we're off like a flash. Make that two flashes.      My mind was working like the computer Steve Jobs could only dream about making, analyzing every movement of my body and making adjustments as required. My legs were moving like pistons in the engine of a Lamborghini. My lungs, taking in huge gobs of air, were like the after burners on the SR-71 Blackbird flying at MACH 3.      Man, I was in The Zone.    ...