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 long. Complains if we don't have at least five different flavors of ice cream for him to choose from. He counts his money more often than Scrooge McDuck. He receives three retirement checks, has no obligations or bills, and apparently no wallet as well, because he never seems to reach for one when the time comes to pay for anything.
Myself, I see Wings, the Complete Series for $39.99 at Wal-Mart, and have to talk myself out of buying it even though it was one of my favorite TV shows. Plus, I really had a thing for the actress who plays Helen. Of course, this was back before I got married for the second (and last) time to my current (and only) wife.
"You don't really need it," I tell myself. "It'll come back out on TV some day. Don't they all come back?"
Not to mention, we get zero help from the rest of his kids, even the illegitimate ones. Hmm... my wife just looked up from the book she's reading. I don't know how she does that. If I know what's good for me, I better tell you that that was just one of the jokes I like to make. Am I afraid of my wife? Heck, no. I could beat her up if I had to. The problem is that I'm in love with my wife.
"Love stinks," as The J. Geils Band once sang. "Yeah, yeah."
The way I figure it, if I out-live my Dad, I will finally be able to afford that DVD box set of Wings. Either with the inheritance I'll receive from him or the money I'll save on the food I'll no longer have to buy (Anybody want to buy a box of 120 cream puff rolls... cheap?). I might even buy myself three 45-90's--Dinosaur Rifles (Private joke. Ask my grandson.)--in honor of his memory. The next thing I'll do is then book the next flight to China. I'll even fly first class, that way I can wine and dine in his honor. Once in China, I'll run The Great Wall, skipping over the gobs of spit the Chinese are so fond of littering their pathways with.
But first I have to outlive him.
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 long. Complains if we don't have at least five different flavors of ice cream for him to choose from. He counts his money more often than Scrooge McDuck. He receives three retirement checks, has no obligations or bills, and apparently no wallet as well, because he never seems to reach for one when the time comes to pay for anything.
Myself, I see Wings, the Complete Series for $39.99 at Wal-Mart, and have to talk myself out of buying it even though it was one of my favorite TV shows. Plus, I really had a thing for the actress who plays Helen. Of course, this was back before I got married for the second (and last) time to my current (and only) wife.
"You don't really need it," I tell myself. "It'll come back out on TV some day. Don't they all come back?"
Not to mention, we get zero help from the rest of his kids, even the illegitimate ones. Hmm... my wife just looked up from the book she's reading. I don't know how she does that. If I know what's good for me, I better tell you that that was just one of the jokes I like to make. Am I afraid of my wife? Heck, no. I could beat her up if I had to. The problem is that I'm in love with my wife.
"Love stinks," as The J. Geils Band once sang. "Yeah, yeah."
The way I figure it, if I out-live my Dad, I will finally be able to afford that DVD box set of Wings. Either with the inheritance I'll receive from him or the money I'll save on the food I'll no longer have to buy (Anybody want to buy a box of 120 cream puff rolls... cheap?). I might even buy myself three 45-90's--Dinosaur Rifles (Private joke. Ask my grandson.)--in honor of his memory. The next thing I'll do is then book the next flight to China. I'll even fly first class, that way I can wine and dine in his honor. Once in China, I'll run The Great Wall, skipping over the gobs of spit the Chinese are so fond of littering their pathways with.
But first I have to outlive him.
My grandson and I went mountain climbing a Friday or two ago. We climbed Mt. So-N-So at Such-N-Such. I think it's higher than Mt. Franklin, which is in El Paso. My grandson is one tough kid. He's not a whiner, a crier, or a complainer. My Dad could learn a thing or two from his great-grandson, because that kid just keeps picking them up and putting them down.
On the way home, he was telling me that he wants to go back and hike to the top. The mountain is 120 miles away, so it would be an all day trip for us.
Do you know what my father told me the last time he was in the car with me?
"Are we there yet?"
No, really. He did. Of course, he followed that with, "It's taking longer than it did the last time. Are you sure you're not lost?'
We were going to the doctor. Well, to be more specific, HE was going to the doctor. I've driven him there before. I know where it is.
"I'm not lost, Dad," I told him.
"Then why's it taking so long?"
"It's taking the same amount of time it did the last time, Dad."
"I'm glad you think so," he said.
That's when he told me he wants a watch for Christmas.
A watch?
Yes, a watch.
I have no idea what happened to the watch he used to have. One day it just... disappeared. I looked for it. My wife looked for it. My father didn't look for it, however, because looking for his own watch would be beneath him. There are only two places my Dad is ever in. His little father-in-law house in the front of our property, and in his --my--favorite chair in front of the TV in our great room. Besides all that, where is he planning to go that he has to be on time?
He only has one appointment every three months and he can't keep track of that one. There are clocks all over our house and his, but he'll still show up too early for us to leave, and then disappears on us when it's time to go.
Maybe he wants to count the seconds as they tick by so he knows exactly when he should go to the bathroom before his next doctor's appointment. There's a longer story somewhere in here. I'd tell it to you, but I don't want you to see me cry.
On the way home, he was telling me that he wants to go back and hike to the top. The mountain is 120 miles away, so it would be an all day trip for us.
Do you know what my father told me the last time he was in the car with me?
"Are we there yet?"
No, really. He did. Of course, he followed that with, "It's taking longer than it did the last time. Are you sure you're not lost?'
We were going to the doctor. Well, to be more specific, HE was going to the doctor. I've driven him there before. I know where it is.
"I'm not lost, Dad," I told him.
"Then why's it taking so long?"
"It's taking the same amount of time it did the last time, Dad."
"I'm glad you think so," he said.
That's when he told me he wants a watch for Christmas.
A watch?
Yes, a watch.
I have no idea what happened to the watch he used to have. One day it just... disappeared. I looked for it. My wife looked for it. My father didn't look for it, however, because looking for his own watch would be beneath him. There are only two places my Dad is ever in. His little father-in-law house in the front of our property, and in his --my--favorite chair in front of the TV in our great room. Besides all that, where is he planning to go that he has to be on time?
He only has one appointment every three months and he can't keep track of that one. There are clocks all over our house and his, but he'll still show up too early for us to leave, and then disappears on us when it's time to go.
Maybe he wants to count the seconds as they tick by so he knows exactly when he should go to the bathroom before his next doctor's appointment. There's a longer story somewhere in here. I'd tell it to you, but I don't want you to see me cry.
Speaking of my Dad, I've been waiting for him to go to bed for his nap, but no such luck. He has been asleep in the great room for three hours.
Three hours?
Yes, three hours.
Doesn't he know I have things to do?
Maybe that's the problem. He knows, but he just doesn't care.
He must have seen me cleaning and waxing the downstairs floor, and decided to interrupt. I know he can't be hungry. My wife fed him breakfast at 0900 hours (that's 9am for you non-military types) and at 1130 hours he was eating lunch.
There are times when I feel sorry for my father. He'll stand in the middle of the room and go through all of his pockets. He searches every pocket in his shorts and shirt and sweater over and over again. What's he looking for? A watch? Has he lost something I don't know about? He'll take out his pre-used handkerchief, look at it, and then put it back in his pocket. And then he'll continue searching his pockets for something only he knows what it is. He will do this several times a day. Standing and searching. Standing and searching. He searches more than John Wayne in my favorite John Ford movie.
Yesterday, he was a young USMC Sergeant, commanding men and jumping out of airplanes behind enemy lines. Today, he stands in the middle of the room, searching his pockets for something he has not lost.
Well, he's lost his youth, but that's one thing he definitely won't find in his pockets.
No matter how hard he looks.
Three hours?
Yes, three hours.
Doesn't he know I have things to do?
Maybe that's the problem. He knows, but he just doesn't care.
He must have seen me cleaning and waxing the downstairs floor, and decided to interrupt. I know he can't be hungry. My wife fed him breakfast at 0900 hours (that's 9am for you non-military types) and at 1130 hours he was eating lunch.
There are times when I feel sorry for my father. He'll stand in the middle of the room and go through all of his pockets. He searches every pocket in his shorts and shirt and sweater over and over again. What's he looking for? A watch? Has he lost something I don't know about? He'll take out his pre-used handkerchief, look at it, and then put it back in his pocket. And then he'll continue searching his pockets for something only he knows what it is. He will do this several times a day. Standing and searching. Standing and searching. He searches more than John Wayne in my favorite John Ford movie.
Yesterday, he was a young USMC Sergeant, commanding men and jumping out of airplanes behind enemy lines. Today, he stands in the middle of the room, searching his pockets for something he has not lost.
Well, he's lost his youth, but that's one thing he definitely won't find in his pockets.
No matter how hard he looks.
Raising My Father
RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com
jimduchene.BlogSpot.com American Chimpanzee
@JimDuchene
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