RaisingDad

Sorry to  hear about what happened to your buddy.      His coming down with Alzheimer's and ending up in a care facility at his reasonably young age stinks, but I couldn’t help but think that when his ex-wife came back into his life and said she would take care of him, she didn’t finish the sentence.      The part she said out loud to your buddy, and to his family and friends was, “I’LL take care of him,” and then, to herself, she said, “until I can get everything in my name, THEN I’ll drop his ass in a nursing home.”       RaisingDad RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com @JimDuchene   

My father was sitting alone in the den, TV off.      He looked sad.     “What’s the matter, pop?” I asked him, my voice soft.     “Didn’t you hear?” he said. “Rush Limbaugh died. He was such a good man,” he said between sniffles.     I was quiet.     “Would you cry for us if we died?” I finally said.      “OF COURSE,” he insisted, and then thought about it. “Well, not for your brother,” he said.       RaisingDad RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com  American  Chimpanzee @JimDuchene   

My elderly, pre-Alzheimer's father's memory is not so great.      Neither is mine, for that matter, but that's neither here nor there.      Many years back, we were on our way to visit some family in another town and we just couldn't find the street we were looking for. Today, I would just key the address into my phone and it would give me directions, but back then we used maps--real maps--and we didn't have one.      My father, whom I trusted to drive at the time, stopped at a convenience store and the two of us went inside to buy one.      They were out.      "By any chance," my father asked the clerk, "do you know where such and such street is?"      The clerk did.      "You want to write it down?" he asked my father before giving him the directions.      "I'll remember," my father told him, sniffing in indignation.      We jumped back into the car an...

I remember the first Super Bowl, even though I was but a wee laddie.      Mainly because, before the game even began, our dad had to take you to the hospital's ER.      "DOC," our dad cried out, "you gotta help me! My son just swallowed my lucky penny!"      "When did THAT happen?" the emergency room doctor wanted to know.       "Last week!" our father told him.      "LAST WEEK? Why didn't you bring him then?"      I didn't have ten grand bet on the Super Bowl last week!" RaisingDad RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com @JimDuchene

as featured in Desert Exposure Magazine desertexposure.com My wife is sick.      Fortunately, it’s just the flu.      Sad to live in a time where having the flu is GOOD news.       Every year I inoculate myself against the various bugs and viruses that will save the Earth when space aliens come to conquer it. My wife, who I like to tease when she’s sick, makes sure I do.       "I've never had the flu in my life," I tried telling her once.      "What does that have to do with anything?" she said, ending the conversation.      True, I've never had the flu in my life, but maybe the shots I took had something to do with that. I've never had polio, either. Or whooping cough, or any number of childhood diseases, and I can thank my lucky stars or my parents who made sure I got my childhood vaccinations. I choose to thank my parent...