RaisingDad

It's rare for my father to be quiet, but that's exactly what he was on our drive back home from the hospital. We had just visited my uncle who was there for, well, for not very much longer, at least according to him. Cancer isn't quite the death sentence it used to be, but it's still pretty scary. Especially if you're the one who has it.      As I drove, I would look over at my dad every now and then to make sure he was okay. Each time I'd see him looking out of his window. What he was thinking about, I couldn't tell you. Maybe he was contemplating losing his younger brother. Maybe he was seeing his own mortality in the distance. Only he, and perhaps The Amazing Kreskin, know for sure.      Myself, I was thinking about the last time I took my father to see his doctor. He was there to get a flu shot. The doctor came in, gave him a quick once-over, and told him, "You'll live to make many more payments to me."    ...

I keep telling my wife that my father is screwing with me.      Today is House Cleaner Day. Whenever the house cleaner comes to clean our house, my father pretends to sleep the entire time she is here. I say "pretend," because, any other day, he is up doing the two things he does best: complaining and eating.      This morning, it was business as usual. He stayed in his bedroom and the house cleaner got paid for not being able to do her job, which includes the cleaning of my father's bedroom and bathroom. As God is my witness, no sooner did the door close on her on her way out, than my father's opened.      "I'm hungry," he complained, jauntily making his way into the kitchen.       While my wife busily got started fixing my father something to fill that bottomless pit of a stomach he has, he ...

We have ghosts in our house.      At least, that's what my Dad tells me, my wife, and anybody else who will listen.      "When I'm watching TV late at night, the set will turn off all by itself."      That's his proof? A temperamental television set.      "Really, Dad?" I'll say, hoping the conversation will end there.      "Really," he'll say.      "Why does it turn off?" my wife will make the mistake of asking him.      And in case you don't know why it's a mistake...      " Why? " my Dad will start to rant. " WHY? I don't know why, it just does!"      By then, my wife realizes she should have just mumbled something in the affirmative and let that particular sleeping dog lie.      "Maybe the TV is faulty," she'll suggest.      "No," my fath...

It's sad to see friend and relatives grow old, especially when some of them end up in a nursing home.      I'm talking about my aunt.      My aunt was a woman who loved life. She loved it so much, she might have been mistaken for a Kennedy. She loved to go out, she loved to dance, and she loved to... well, let's just say she loved that third thing so much she ended up getting married five times.      I went to visit her the other day, and, let me assure you, she's still as feisty as ever.      "What do you do all day?" I asked her.      "I'll show you," she answered me, whereupon she showed a closed fist to the old man sleeping in the wheelchair next to her.      "If you   can guess what's in my hand, you can have sex with me," she told him.      He achieved consciousness just long enough to t...

My elderly father and I were visiting his younger brother in the hospital, and, like my uncle's residency here on earth, we were ready to go. I could tell my father wanted to leave by the way he kept inching closer to the door. My uncle, however, is just as oblivious to visual and verbal clues as my father is.      "So," he asked his older brother, "how are you feeling?"      This got my father's attention, because if there's one thing my father likes to talk about, it's himself.      "Well," my father answered, shaking his head sadly. "I'm pretty sick myself."      This came as something of a surprise to me. I only go with him to all of his doctor appointments, of which there are many, and he is always given a clean bill of health. For his age, that is.      "You're not sick, dad," I corrected him.      "Yes, I am," he corr...