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Showing posts from June, 2020

Email To My Brother: Bengay, Done That

I was talking to our father on Friday.      Or rather, our father was talking to me.    He told me, “When you go get my gourmet enchiladas on Saturday, can you also get me a tube of Bengay? The next time your brother visits, I want to put some in my eyes.”    “What’s hurting your eyes, pop?” I asked him.    “Your brother’s face,” he said.       RaisingDad RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com @JimDuchene   

Coronavirus Schmaronavirus Revisted

When he got home from this month's trip giving "those characters" at the bank a what-for, my father told me, "When I got to the bank, they called the police on me."      That got my attention, because it sounded like it could be true, what with his old-geezer temper and all.      "Why did they do   that , pop?" I asked him.      "I was the only one who wasn't wearing a mask," he quipped.      I laughed.      The old comedic switcheroo, eh?       RaisingDad RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com. American Chimpanzee @JimDuchene   

Email To My Brother: Who Knows?

There was a shooting near our house late last night. I don’t think it was a domestic issue. I heard it was a drug deal gone wrong, but my wife heard it was an intruder, so who knows?      “Be sure to tell your brother,” our father insisted, “so he'll be too scared to visit me.”       RaisingDad RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com. American Chimpanzee @JimDuchene   

Caronavirus, Schmaronavirus

as featured in Desert Exposure Magazine desertexposure.com I was packing my bags, getting ready to leave for the airport when I got the text: “I’m here for you.”      “Thanks,” I wrote back. “Yeah, it’s a bad situation, but I’m sure it will be okay. I just wish the doctor would have some good news for a change. The series of enemas my father has to go through isn't going to be any fun, but what can I do? I asked the doctor how bad it was going to be since my father will be treated at home. He said it would be "explosive." And "messy." And who's going to have to clean it up? Me. He's my dad, so I can't leave it for my wife to do. Anyway, thanks for being there for me, but I've gotta go. I’m waiting for my Uber driver.”      “I AM your Uber driver,” came the reply, "and I'm here for you."      I’m glad he’s there for me because every month my elderly father likes to check his bank statement. Sadly, he’s ...