RaisingDad

I don't know if my father is exceptionally funny or incredibly rude. Having to live with him, it's healthier for my sanity if I think he's funny.      When we were visiting my sick uncle at the hospital, my father reached over and grabbed his younger brother by the wrist. He then looked at his own wrist, as if he were a doctor taking a patient's pulse.      "Either you're dead," he told him, "or my watch has stopped."      We all got a good laugh out of that one because he was imitating Groucho Marx and we were all big Groucho fans. The Marx Brothers made some of the rare movies that my father and I have been able to bond over. Even Zeppo couldn't ruin them for us.      Sadly, that didn't cheer my uncle up for long.      "It's not good news," he told us, gravely.      "What is it?" I asked him, but I already knew. The news of his illness had already mad...

My Dad's younger brother had been doing poorly for a while now, so, when he ended up in the hospital, I offered to take my father to go see him.      "What for?" my father groused. "He's sick, not dead."      "He's not doing well, pop," I told him.      You think he's not doing well," my father said. "What about me? I haven't been able to go to the bathroom for a week ."      Too bad my dad's not lactose intolerant like I am. A glass of milk would solve his problem pronto. Anyway...      My father finally relented when my wife interceded and told him he should go. She's like a good angel sitting on his shoulder, convincing him to be a better person. Myself, my father would probably tell you that I have a devil on one shoulder and an even bigger devil on the other.      "You never know," my wife wisely concluded.      "All I know is my laxa...

Our house was a little cool today.      Let me repeat: cool , not cold.      Why?      Well, since you ask, we had to leave the front door open because of the workmen we had working on our bathroom.      My Dad, when he wasn't busy standing at the bathroom door telling the workers how to do their job, complained about the temperature all day long. I mean,  aallll day long. Myself, I like a cool house, but that means nothing to my Dad.      "It's cold in here," he said.      "Dang, it's cold in here," he said, only he didn't use the word "dang."      "Are you cold? I sure am," he said, taking a stab at passive aggressiveness.      Yeah, I know, Dad. It's so cold Congress is keeping their hands in their own pockets.      And th...

I enjoy watching baseball on TV as much as the next guy, as long as the next guy is someone who doesn't enjoy watching baseball on TV. On the other hand, my elderly father who lives with me loves watching baseball on TV, and he'll spend many happy hours sitting in front of the television set doing just that. I pay extra for the Major League Baseball channel, and, believe me, it's worth every penny.      I want to spend time with my dad, but I don't want to sit in front of the TV for hours doing nothing, so I'll grab my laptop and join him. He'll do his thing, I'll do mine, and somewhere along the line we'll even exchange a few words.      Recently, during a commercial of course, he asked me, "What do you do with that?"      "What do I do with what?" I asked him back.      I must admit, I wasn't paying much attention.      "What do you do with your computer?"   ...