Dad-ums

My dad, Loveable Bill, during WWII. I am the twinkle in his eye.

I am back from my Dad's, where I had a good time, and was actually useful for a change. My old man is now 83. A WWII veteran, he never believed he would live this long. In fact, his 40th birthday was such a shock that he disappeared for three days with a gang of his pals, certain his last days were upon him and wanting to go out with a bang. If anyone then had told him he'd be around for another 43 years, scoffing would have been the least of what he would have done.

Loveable Bill at 83, sitting in his diningroom.

Dad has survived a world war, polio, liver disease, pneumonia (multiple times), several car accidents and, in his 80th year, a shattered hip, so if he is looking a little frail right now, he is entitled. He's getting around pretty well with just a cane though, which is a huge improvement over the last time I saw him. As was the weather!

The weather, the last time I visited. It was in the 70s and 80s this time.

I hope I have as many loving friends and family as he has when I am his age, but I doubt it will happen that way. In my experience, men get taken care of by the women in the family, and the women end up in homes. Dad, being a man, is being well cared for in his own home. My baby sister sees him almost every day and is his right-hand gal. My brother Bill visits every couple of months (from Texas, no less) and is the indispensable man. This summer, he helped Dad paint the house and repair the decks. Dad bragged about what good kids they are every day I was there.

Dad and I always have a good time together. We could cohabitate very easily if the need ever arose. I had a great time cooking for him, and we enjoyed each other's company. I had hoped to get back to see him a lot sooner than I did, but life, mother and a broken arm intervened.

Turns out that the timing of my week stay was very timely because while I was there, Dad's washer died (early in the visit) and the sewer lines backed up (end of the visit). I am glad I was on hand to help. Sis and I pitched in to get him a new washer, but cleaning up after the sewage disaster was a solo act. (Mine, not my sister's. She handled the last disaster single-handed). It was kind of a shitty way to end the visit, and really pissed me off, but everything flushed out fine in the end, and I left his bathrooms sparkling and aseptic. I can still hear them thanking me.

We went out to eat several times and Dad took me to a casino, the first (and second) time I have ever been. I cleared $165 the first time we went, and lost almost all of it back to the casino the second. I had a really good time, though, and can see how gambling could become addictive. Casinos are exciting places.

Of course, I spent a week being alternately snubbed and attacked by his cat, Snoopy. Snoopy is a one-man cat. I am not that man. Here he is, deciding whether or not to pounce on me from a great height.

The only draw-back to visiting my dad is like it is like falling into a technological black hole. I keep forgetting how interminably and frustratingly SLOOOoowwwww dial up is. And trying to get my email was an exercise in futility. I did manage to RECEIVE a few, but was never able to reply to the ones I received. I came home to 131 messages. I was using Verizon's National Broadband Access, which is better than a sharp stick in the eye.... but only marginally.

Anyway, I am home now, and if you haven't heard from me in a week, now you know why.