RaisingDad

Daisy, a friend of mine, recently asked if my father still offers me words of wisdom.      I had to think about that.      I came to the conclusion that any words of wisdom my father offers me are usually in the form of hindsight.      In other words, if I were to bump my head on a low-hanging bar, my father would then tell me, "Watch out for that bar."      If I stepped on something sharp and painful on the floor, he'd caution, "I forgot to tell you, I put that there."      Just the other day, when I complained that my stomach was upset, he told me, "You shouldn't eat like a pig."      For the record, I don't eat like pig.      My father's not much of a talker, but one thing I've noticed as he's gotten older is that he's more concerned over what his legacy is going to be, how he's going to be remembered.  ...

My brother and I were pretty rambunctious kids.      How rambunctious?      Well, in the Bible, I’ve heard it says, “Spare the rod, spoil the child.”      Let’s just say that the two of us gave our parents plenty of reason not to spoil us.      Let me give you an example. When I was still in single digits age-wise, I saw a movie about time travel and decided to build a time machine. This consisted of my getting an oven rack that, for some reason, was discarded in our backyard. I took it, then went into the kitchen to get my mother’s roll of Reynolds Wrap aluminum foil. I covered each metal wire with the aluminum foil, including the thicker wire frame. I found an extension cord, also discarded in the backyard, and cut off the female end, exposing the copper wiring. I attached the exposed wiring of the extension cord to one corner of the rack.       I placed the re...

I had a headache and thought it might be because I hadn’t had my morning coffee.      “Maybe it’s a tumor,” my father helpfully suggested.      “It’s not a tumor,” I told him, wondering where I had heard that exchange before. When it came to me, I couldn’t help but think, “This is what my life’s become: a bad scene from a bad movie.”      When I was still working, I used to look forward to retiring. Little did I know back then I’d be spending it chauffeuring my father back and forth from his many doctor visits, most of which are unnecessary.      “You’re perfectly healthy,” one doctor even told him.      “That could change,” my father replied.      We were on our way back home from one such visit and I thought I’d pull in to the first fast food place I’d see and get myself a cup of something hot and black. Angela Bassett came to mind, but she wouldn’t fit in the cup.   ...

Living with my father has never been easy.     When it came to communicating, he went by the same motto as Clinton’s Army: Don’t Ask/Don’t Tell. He didn’t ask me anything, so I didn’t tell him anything. He was of the belief that children (especially his) should be seen, not heard. And, preferably, not even seen. It was enough for him to know we were around.     It was a different time. Let’s leave it at that.     And then my parents grew old, my mother passed away, and my father was diagnosed pre-Alzheimer’s. When my family and I asked him to move in with us, I thought maybe things would be different. They weren’t. His first words when I tried to engage him in conversation were practically, “Don’t bother.”     Not too long ago, I walked into the great room and sat down. Not in my favorite chair, because my father claimed it the day he moved into my house, but in the sofa next to it. He was watchi...