The Car Ride
I was driving in a car with my father recently.
We were on our way to lunch.
On my dime.
I don't want to say I don't believe the doctor who told me that my father suffers from pre-Alzheimer's, but sometimes I think it's mighty convenient that whenever we go out to eat at a restaurant my father always forgets to reach for his wallet.
Anyway, what happened next made me lose my appetite.
"Did you just cut one?" I asked my father.
My father gave me an innocent look.
"Of course I did, son," he told me. "Do you think I always smell like that?"
We were on our way to lunch.
On my dime.
I don't want to say I don't believe the doctor who told me that my father suffers from pre-Alzheimer's, but sometimes I think it's mighty convenient that whenever we go out to eat at a restaurant my father always forgets to reach for his wallet.
Anyway, what happened next made me lose my appetite.
"Did you just cut one?" I asked my father.
My father gave me an innocent look.
"Of course I did, son," he told me. "Do you think I always smell like that?"
Raising My Father
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