RaisingDad

  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.”