RaisingDad

My grandson and I are at the White Sands Missile Range for their annual marathon honoring the Philippine Deathmarch of World War Two. If you don't know what that is, you should look it up. It's a heartbreaking story, and is especially interesting to me because my father was stationed in the Philippines during WWII.      When General Douglas MacAthur was forced to leave the Philippines, abandoning American servicemen and Philippine citizens to the invading Japanese Army in the process, he promised he would return. My father was one of the many soldiers who retook the Island and made sure he could keep his word.      I have family who live nearby, and one of my sisters offered us a place to stay.      I asked my grandson, "Do you want to stay at a hotel or at your aunt's?"      He look at me with his little five-year-old eyes, and answered, "Basically, I will stay at my aunt's a...

For the holidays, Maloney's wife, Gail, likes to put out little bowls of candy for friends and family to help themselves to. This Easter, she's filled the bowl with peanut M&M's that are painted bright Easter egg colors.      At the recent cookout he didn't invite me to but was telling me about, once all the steaks, chicken, and grilled veggies were done, he was inside doing what he does best. Talking.      Down the hall, he saw his mother-in-law exit the bathroom. It reminded him that he hadn't seen her in a while. She must have been in there a long time, if you get my drift. She comes out with some toilet paper in her hand, and proceeds to blow her nose as she walks down the hall toward everyone. When she's done emptying out her snot-maker, she wipes the end of her nose and puts the toilet paper in a pocket. For later use, Maloney figures. My father does the same thing, except with a handkerchief.   ...

"Can I borrow a crowbar?" my friend Maloney asked when he called me on the phone.      "What for?" I asked him.      It's not that I didn't want to lend him a crowbar, it was that it sounded like work, and, once I lent him the crowbar, he might ask me to give him a hand, too. I'm old-school. People should solve their own problems.      Unless I'm the one who needs help.      "I need it to get rid of some dead weight," he said, and then, without any encouragement from me, he began his tale of woe, "We were grilling some steaks for my daughter's birthday this past Saturday and made the mistake of telling my wife's mom."      The daughter he was talking about was his youngest, Abby. His wife's name is Gail. If you remember, Maloney's elderly mother-in-law moved in with him and his family, and then, just as quickly, moved out. She enjoyed the same foods and snacks as Malo...

My Dad eats like a king. Every day. ALL day. Courtesy of my wife.      This morning, I watched my father sit down at the kitchen table and I continued to watch as my wife served him his five-star breakfast.      She served me next.      "What's this?" I asked her. What was on my plate wasn't exactly cottage cheese and lettuce, but it wasn't far from it.      "Talk to your doctor if you have a complaint," she told me. I guess she treats me like a king, too, but in a different way. A way that includes less food.      I'm a pretty healthy guy, but my doctor wants me to bring my cholesterol down a peg or two. He gave me the choice to either do it with a pill or with my diet. I first tried the pill, but stopped when it began to make the left side of my face feel numb.      "Are you buying cheap bacon?" I heard my Dad say.  ...

Tonight my family--that is, my kids and grandkids (the one's that I know of, that is [heh, heh])--are having a surprise birth day dinner for my wife and I. The preparations usually consist of our pretending we don't know about it, and their pretending we don't know about it. But really, my and my wife's birthdays are ten days apart, so any dinner or event we're required to attend at this time of year has to have something to do with our birthdays,  'ja think? It doesn't take Michio Kaku to tell me what time it is.      (Heh, heh... I said kaku. )       My Dad's bad memory only seems to flare up when there's a birthday or anniversary to be celebrated. I'm not saying he's cheap. I'm just saying he doesn't care to spend the money or exert the effort to buy anyone a gift. Me, in particular. That was my mother's job, I guess, and she took it with her to the...

My Mom, when she was alive, was amazing.      With all the kids and grandkids and grandkids she had, she never forgot a birthday. Especially mine. My birthday presents began with the Man From Uncle spy camera that turned into a gun, then, as the years flowed by, they slowly morphed into cash.      "For a comic book," she told me when I was a boy.      "For a book," she told me when  was a man.      If what you love is where your heart is, then she always knew where my heart was.      When she passed on, that was the end of the toys, the books... the cash. But every ending has a beginning, and that was the beginning of my Dad's coming to live with me and my family. And I haven't seen a birthday present since.      I sure do miss my Mom.       Raising My Father RaisingMyFather.blogspot.com ji...