RaisingDad

As I sit here watching Miley Cyrus host Saturday Night Live I can't help but wonder what all the fuss is about. That Miley is the ugliest little boy I've ever seen. Just kidding. I know Cyrus is a girl.      Just like Justin Bieber.      Am I showing my age? Sometimes I feel like those parents from the 50's calling rock & roll the devil's music or those parents from the 60's yelling at hippies to "get a haircut!" But one thing I can count on not to change is my Dad. The older he gets, the more he becomes a caricature of himself (which is something I'm sure my children think about me). What am I talking about?      My Dad's  new TV has logged in less then 10 minutes since I paid for it, and those were the 10 minutes my wife spent loading the channels after I had hooked it up. When I complain to her about how I have to watch a 18 inch TV with no convertor, she always reminds me, "You'll get ...

On the last day of our short--too short--four day vacation, while we were returning home, I got a call from my daughter. She is laughing and telling me that Grandpa must have had a tough night.      On this particular morning my daughter had to leave early for work--she has a life, after all. She didn't have the time to wait for him to go on his walk (at his convenience) and return in enough time for her to get ready. She only told him that the day before about half a dozen times. As she is leaving for work she goes to the kitchen to make sure he is all right and to let him know that she is leaving.      "Grandpa," she tells him, "I'm leaving for work. I'll be back later. Is there anything you need?"      "Well..." her grandpa says, looking as if he doesn't know what's just happened. Some people watch what happens, some people make things happen, and some people wonder what happens. My...

The nonsense my Dad was putting my daughter through for something as simple as deciding what he wanted her to bring him for dinner reminds me of a time--long, long ago--when my Mom was still alive.      For one reason or another, the whole family was there visiting, and instead of looking to our Mom to cook dinner for all of us, we thought it would be nice to take our parents out for a nice dinner at a nice restaurant. I suggested a world-famous restaurant--McDonald's--but for some reason I was voted down.      My Dad wasn't as old then (if that's not stating the obvious), but he was every bit as cantankerous.      "Dad," I told him. "Get ready. We're taking you and Mom out to eat."      We had already passed the idea by Mom, and she was all for it. She's spent her whole life cooking three meals a day plus snacks, so any opportunity to get out of the kitchen and have somebody cater to her was her idea of...

I was looking through one of my wife's women magazines, because, if there's one thing I learned from Clint Eastwood in the movie Heartbreak Ridge,  it's that I should know my--for lack of a better word--enemy.      Sun Tzu, a Chinese general for the King of Wu, put it this way over two and a half thousand years ago:   If you know your enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.        I know myself like I know the back of my hand ( What The Heck Is THAT? ), but women (in general) and my wife (in particular) continue to be a mystery to me, and that's why (when nobody's looking) I'll occasionally open up one of my wife's magazines and see what the competition is up to.      Except for Cosmopolitan.      I find that magazine especially worthless when it comes to supplying its readership with accurate and helpful information, but--for any...

     Dad can pretty much do anything on his own.      That is, w hen he wants to. However, when my wife is around, he never wants to. Yeah, my wif e has my father spoiled. Very spoiled. She treats him a lot better than the way she treats me. Not that I'm jealous. Not even a little.      Okay, maybe a little.      Anyway, I had set it up so my wife could have a nice trip, some peace of mind, and maybe even get in a little shopping. Two of our daughters were very happy to help us and give their mom a chance to relax. Our oldest daughter agreed to stay at our house while we were gone. She had set up her work schedule so that she could be at our house to keep an eye on her grandfather most of the time and she was even spending her nights there as well.      Every morning while we were gone she got up and made...

     I took my wife on a mini-vacation.      Did we stay with the Trumps in New York? Visit the  Middletons in England? Go to Paris with the Obamas on the taxpayer's dime? No, our mini-vacation was more of a four day road trip.      It's the first vacation that she and I have gone on (alone) for almost four years. My Dad is always my wife's foremost concern, and, for the last four years, if we went on vacation, he went on vacation.      At my expense.      Not that I'm complaining about the cost. I'm not even complaining about my Dad's lack of desire to produce anything resembling George Washington when the time comes to pay for anything. My main complaint would be the absence of any gratitude at the end of any transaction.      No "thank you."      No "but I was goin...

A doctor tells his patient: "I've got good news, and I've got bad news. Which do you want to hear first?" "The bad news," answers the patient. "Okay," the doctor begins, "your son is dead, your daughter's in a coma, your wife has run away with your best friend, your dog got run over by a car, and you have an incurable rare disease." "Holy mackerel," the patient said, only he didn't say 'mackerel.' "What's the GOOD news?" "The good news is that there's no more bad news."           I tell you that old joke to set up the exciting conclusion of the sad adventure of me hurting my back. A story, I might add, that attracted almost no readers. But don't feel sorry for me, send money instead. Anyway...      The bad news is that my Dad either still thought I was making fun of the way he walked or he got tired of watching me hobble around the house like an invalid, because he inte...