Today Was Hard For Dad
I've been checking in on Dad every Monday, Wednesday and Friday after I drop Lauren off at school in the morning on my way to work and occasionally on the weekends. He's doing okay, a widower after 48 years, I can't imagine.
Dad has always been a bulldog, in physique and function, he does what needs to be done, he's a work dog and I respect that more than anything. He's now a part time employee at the lumber yard because staying in the house is pointless, good on ya Dad! When he started working again, apparently they just said, 'Show up when you want to.' he called me up and said, "Well, I'm back in the workforce." To which I replied, "Good to have you back Dad, we've certainly missed you." He needs to interact with other people, he's a bit of a social butterfly - yours truly apple falls not very far from the tree.
So in honor of Dad, I offer some goodies:
Coining the lyrics, "You picked a fine time to leave me Lucille, 400 children and a crop in the field." Hope it was a big crop Dad.
I almost killed him one morning, I awoke to a note on the toilet that read, "DO NOT FLUSH THIS, I'M WORKING ON THE PUMP!" I promptly peed and then flushed the toilet. I heard the screaming from the pump house to our house (two separate buildings, how cool is that?) I pulled up my pants and ran like hell.
When I was working overnights and going to college during the day I was home catching two hours of sleep (ahh to be young again) with hefty bags lining my windows, Dad came in during a thunderstorm to close my windows. My room was an early version of hoarders - he walked in and in true Archie Bunker fashion said, "Awww Jesus Christ, what the hell is going on here!" I pretended to be asleep, he never darkened my door again. We didn't make eye contact for a while either.
When I was in college (commuting, working, working, school, commuting, you get the idea) Dad came to me about an opening at Mobil Oil for a summer intern. This was the speech, "I'll get you in, you mess this up and I'm done with you. If you get the job I'm not Dad, I'm Bruce, we say 'Hi', that's it. Got it?" Nothing could have motivated me more than the challenge of not letting Dad down.
Dad thinks we are all aliens from another planet.
Dad thinks anyone on death row should just be chained to a tree. It goes way downhill, I'll leave the prisoner on the tree and spare you.
When Dad comes to visit we have a list of projects, this keeps him from coming up with his own.
I have special cookie sheets for Dad's pizza - it is amazing, the pizza is out of this world and the cookie sheets are cut all to hell - it's worth it.
Dad will call and say, "Do me a favor...." it's so Godfather and like the Godfather, you can't say no.
Dad built his own pizza oven (with my great Uncle Ray, check out the picture on my facebook page - it's amazing.)
Dad is in the Masons, or as I like to refer to them the Wacka Wacka Woo Woo (there is a hand to nose gesture that I just can't explain) He won't show me the real handshake and he knows how much it pisses me off. For his 70th birthday this year I ordered him a Mason's tie, the dingbat from the tie company screwed up the order, then sent it to me - he included another tie for our inconvenience.
Today Mom was buried, I wasn't there, but Dad was, so was Uncle Ray and Aunt Gerry. I hope Dad wore one of his new ties and I hope he knows how proud I am of the care he gave to Mom and the courage he continues to teach me by his actions.
Mom, rest in peace. Dad, cheers.
Dad has always been a bulldog, in physique and function, he does what needs to be done, he's a work dog and I respect that more than anything. He's now a part time employee at the lumber yard because staying in the house is pointless, good on ya Dad! When he started working again, apparently they just said, 'Show up when you want to.' he called me up and said, "Well, I'm back in the workforce." To which I replied, "Good to have you back Dad, we've certainly missed you." He needs to interact with other people, he's a bit of a social butterfly - yours truly apple falls not very far from the tree.
So in honor of Dad, I offer some goodies:
Coining the lyrics, "You picked a fine time to leave me Lucille, 400 children and a crop in the field." Hope it was a big crop Dad.
I almost killed him one morning, I awoke to a note on the toilet that read, "DO NOT FLUSH THIS, I'M WORKING ON THE PUMP!" I promptly peed and then flushed the toilet. I heard the screaming from the pump house to our house (two separate buildings, how cool is that?) I pulled up my pants and ran like hell.
When I was working overnights and going to college during the day I was home catching two hours of sleep (ahh to be young again) with hefty bags lining my windows, Dad came in during a thunderstorm to close my windows. My room was an early version of hoarders - he walked in and in true Archie Bunker fashion said, "Awww Jesus Christ, what the hell is going on here!" I pretended to be asleep, he never darkened my door again. We didn't make eye contact for a while either.
When I was in college (commuting, working, working, school, commuting, you get the idea) Dad came to me about an opening at Mobil Oil for a summer intern. This was the speech, "I'll get you in, you mess this up and I'm done with you. If you get the job I'm not Dad, I'm Bruce, we say 'Hi', that's it. Got it?" Nothing could have motivated me more than the challenge of not letting Dad down.
Dad thinks we are all aliens from another planet.
Dad thinks anyone on death row should just be chained to a tree. It goes way downhill, I'll leave the prisoner on the tree and spare you.
When Dad comes to visit we have a list of projects, this keeps him from coming up with his own.
I have special cookie sheets for Dad's pizza - it is amazing, the pizza is out of this world and the cookie sheets are cut all to hell - it's worth it.
Dad will call and say, "Do me a favor...." it's so Godfather and like the Godfather, you can't say no.
Dad built his own pizza oven (with my great Uncle Ray, check out the picture on my facebook page - it's amazing.)
Dad is in the Masons, or as I like to refer to them the Wacka Wacka Woo Woo (there is a hand to nose gesture that I just can't explain) He won't show me the real handshake and he knows how much it pisses me off. For his 70th birthday this year I ordered him a Mason's tie, the dingbat from the tie company screwed up the order, then sent it to me - he included another tie for our inconvenience.
Today Mom was buried, I wasn't there, but Dad was, so was Uncle Ray and Aunt Gerry. I hope Dad wore one of his new ties and I hope he knows how proud I am of the care he gave to Mom and the courage he continues to teach me by his actions.
Mom, rest in peace. Dad, cheers.
Comments
Post a Comment