RaisingDad

  Early in my first marriage, my starter wife gave me Teddy Ruxpin for my birthday.      Teddy Ruxpin was the first animatronic toy. A stuffed bear similar to the ones in Disneyland's Country Bear Jamboree. It talked and sang, moved its mouth and eyes, and I couldn't think of a better way to waste a bunch of money. Her gift should have been a tipoff that my marriage wasn't going to last.      "Don't you love it?" she gushed.      I pretended to be grateful, but it was obvious the person who she had really gotten that doll for was herself.  I'm not saying my first wife was selfish, but she was.      Cut to the present, a second marriage, a different wife, and another birthday.      My wife and I were born six days and ten years apart.       Her on the 16th, and me on the 10th.       "What year?" I can hear you ask.      "None of your business," ...

My father likes honey in his tea. This morning, out of the kindness of my heart, I went to a farmer's market and bought him some raw honey, straight from the beehive. I even bought him a flavor my wife assured me he liked, Orange Blossom. I didn't know honey came in different flavors, but that's neither here nor there. Well, that's not quite true. The honey's here and my money's there. Later, as my wife was making his tea, she told him how I went out of my way just so he could have a local honey to sweeten it with. My father insists local honey is good for his allergies. I don't suffer from any, so I wouldn't know about that, but if  he  thinks it does... "You'll like it, dad," I told him. "The guy I bought it from harvests the honey himself." The honey contains no extra ingredients, and it's not cheap. I told him that, except for the "it's not cheap" part. My father picked up the jar and looked at it with intere...

  Earlier today, my wife asked me to go shopping with her. I didn't want to.  What I wanted to do was go for a walk and I knew shopping would get in the way of that. When she told me we'd be going to the mall, I gave in. I figured, the way she shops, I could still get my walking done. This way we would both be a winner. In my case, a broke winner. Unfortunately, my father decided to tag along, so instead of walking I became a babysitter for a cranky old man. Once upon a time, my father also liked to walk, but these days his idea of walking has become sitting in front of the TV and watching  The Price Is Right . After a store or two, we decided to sit and wait for my wife to run out of money. As we watched the other shoppers walk past, a gaggle of very sexy girls walked by. "Hmmm..." I said. "Hmmm..." my father replied.  When the girls sauntered out of earshot, he told me, "Seeing those girls makes me wish I was 20 years older." "Don't you ...

  I’m not saying church services were especially dull this past Sunday, but as I was listening to the sermon my mind couldn’t help but wander a bit and I thought of a funny story that reminded me of my wife. It seems a police officer showed up to arrest a lady for shooting her husband because the poor guy made the mistake of stepping on the floor she had just mopped, and when he didn’t return to the station his sergeant called to see why.  “Have you arrested her yet?” he wanted to know. “Not yet,” the police officer responded. “Why not?” “The floor’s still wet.” A sharp jab with an elbow brought me back to the present. “What’s so funny,” my wife wanted to know. My father, meanwhile, was sitting on the other side of me.  His eyes were barely open. I don’t know how to tell you this next part without making it also sound like a joke, but a man from the audience was called up to the pulpit to read the 22nd Psalm. After he was done, my father leaned his head toward me and said...

  I was at a funeral recently. At my age I've come to terms with it being something I'm going to have to do more often. That is, up until the final one. After that, I'm sure my wife will let me off the hook. When I was single I'd avoid them altogether by pretending to forget. "You mean it was  this  Wednesday?" You see a lot of people you haven't seen in years when you go to funerals. That's part of the problem. I'd rather remember my relatives when they were younger and not so close to death. If  they  look old, then I’d better take off my glasses before I look in the mirror. At a different event, a high school friend who I hadn't seen since, well, high school, told me, “You haven’t changed a bit. You still look the same.” “You mean I’ve always looked this old?” I asked. I guess my granddaughter saying I looked like the geezer from  Home Alone  has been on my mind more than I would care to admit.  Speaking of my granddaughter… I was in my bedr...

  Cleanliness is next to godliness.      That’s why, once a month, I take a bath whether I need one or not. Recently, however, I had to give myself an additional scrubbing because my very thoughtful wife scheduled our colonoscopies together.      “Couples who colonoscopy together, stay together,” she assured me.      If it wasn’t for her, I would probably avoid them altogether. Colonoscopies are not my idea of fun, although my younger sister told me she enjoyed hers.       “I don’t want to hear about your sex life,” I kidded her, but I knew what she meant. It’s relaxing to be put under and sleep a worryless slumber. Anyone with kids knows what I mean.      I thought our recent bout with the flu might postpone the uncomfortable, but that was not the case. I don't have a hymen, I have a be-hyman, and it was violated on schedule.  As I write this,...

  My family spent the holidays sick with the flu.  First my father caught it. Then my wife. My youngest daughter and I were next. Last was my granddaughter.  When I was young I would get sick, then quickly recover. These days it takes longer for me to bounce back, but that's okay. It gives me an opportunity to catch up on movies I’ve recorded from TCM but haven’t had the privacy to watch. I can’t be in the middle of watching Sonny Corleone being brutally gunned down in The Godfather only to have my granddaughter walk in wanting me to put a box on my head.      My beautiful wife drove us to a medical clinic. My daughter laughed through her misery when she saw me carrying a box of Kleenex and a small trash can, but I knew what I was doing. At any given time I could sneeze or throw up. Hopefully, not at the same time. On the drive there she asked me for some Kleenex, then tossed the used tissues in the trash can.     ...

   My father insists on going for a walk every day, rain or shine. He went out for a walk just before Christmas and came back with the flu. He’s over it now. While that’s the end of  that  story, life has a way of continuing past the ending. My father got better, but Santa then brought the rest of my family the flu for Christmas. First, my wife. Then my youngest daughter and I caught it. Lastly, my granddaughter. She started Christmas morning feeling chipper, but by Christmas Eve she had the chills. Maybe we got it from my father, maybe not.  Who knows?  You never realize how sad and quiet your home can be until one of your babies get sick. I knew she was better when she handed me an empty cardboard box one of her Christmas presents came in. She had drawn a face on one side, so I put it on like a helmet. “Do you smell anything?” she asked me. “Why?” I asked her back. “Because I farted in it.”  

My father and I were visiting an old friend of his at the nursing home he now called home. “Wouldn’t you like to stay in a facility like his?” I asked my father on the drive there. “No,” he answered. I don’t think my beautiful wife would like it either.  Like the end of  Down & Out In Beverly Hills , we’d all stand there looking at him leave, and then, at the last second, make the mistake of inviting him back to stay with us. His friend was happy to see us.  “You look good, you son of a bitch!” he told my father. “I lost twenty pounds,” my father bragged. “Yeah?”  “Yeah,” my father assured him, “but you should have seen me before I gained it all back.”