Category Archives: Memories

June 19, 2012 · 8:58 pm

Dad teaching me to play checkers

Dad was never one for playing games. I can’t imagine him sitting down to play Tiddlywinks or Monopoly with me. Mom was my go-to game-playing parent.

But Dad did teach me how to play checkers.

My parents bought me one of those dimestore affairs, with a paper board that we taped because it fell apart and cheap plastic chips.

I was four years old.

I don’t remember much about the games we played. What I do remember is the brightly-colored plastic bowl by Dad’s side, filled with carrot and celery sticks. Dad was far from a vegetarian, and normally hated crunchy things, as he was afraid he would crack a tooth. I remember him crunching loudly on those crisp vegetables, sweat on his brow, his eyes ablaze with more than just someone playing a casual game of checkers with his young daughter.

Dad was kicking his Valium habit, the one he picked up after his brief run-in with Talwin. The Valium habit became pretty bad, even I could tell at that young age. I remember the fights, the retreating into the bedroom for days at a time, the growling bear that would emerge when he would join us for dinner.

So he quit. Cold turkey. He never touched Valium again as far as I know. (The psych meds he received at the end of his life were not his choice.)

In the end, it didn’t matter who won or lost all of those games of checkers. There was another game being played amidst those red and black squares, and Dad proved to be the winner.

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June 18, 2012 · 7:57 pm

How I became a horror movie fan

As protective as my parents could be (especially Mom), they didn’t always think things through clearly. Like it wasn’t probably a great idea to take a five-year-old to see “The Amityville Horror.”

It’s a wonder that I ended up becoming a huge horror movie fan. I could have easily been scarred for life! Sure, watching the movie as an adult I can appreciate the cheese factor, but as a kindergartner, walls that bled were the stuff made of nightmares. Of course, I had an interesting viewpoint, as my mom’s hand came down to cover my eyes every time a “scary” scene appeared. Still, there was the spooky music score to contend with.

Image credit: Amazon.com

I’m guessing my parents didn’t bother to read the reviews or maybe the babysitter cancelled at the last minute, but I will always remember sitting shellshocked in the backseat of the car after the movie, trying to pretend I wasn’t scared out of my mind while my mom explained to me that the movie was just make-believe. She was right in more ways than one, as the “true” story of the haunted house in Amityville was debunked.

Dad didn’t have a problem with horror movies, even though he could have terrible nightmares. But he was definitely not a fan of “The Amityville Horror.” Why? He didn’t like how the priest and nun were depicted in the film!

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June 17, 2012 · 2:55 pm

Father’s Day wishes

Today is the first Father’s Day I’m celebrating without Dad being alive. As I’ve mentioned before, Dad was not big on holidays, so there are not a lot of sentimental memories for me to tear up over today. It was odd not sending a card to him this year. It’s also odd not speaking to him on the phone, even though most of our conversations centered around mundane topics like the weather.

I decided to go ahead and buy a Father’s Day card this year, just so I could write the message I should have written to him all of those years he was alive and well. As those of you with dementia in your family know, the loss of that person’s identity can begin years before the physical death takes place. We love them whole and broken, but it’s important to show them that love while they can still fully recognize it. We just don’t know how much they know and feel once dementia takes hold.

Here’s the card I got. It’s actually one of the better ones I’ve found over the years, too bad Dad is not here to see it.


Here’s the message I wrote:

I’m thinking about you today and every day. It may be too late, but today I am saying thanks for all of the sacrifices you made over the years. Love, Joy

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June 16, 2012 · 5:56 pm

Fish & chips for Father’s Day

Since it’s Father’s Day weekend, I’ve been thinking about Dad’s favorite dishes and restaurants. As I’ve written before, Dad was a very down-to-earth guy. I don’t know if he ever ate in a fancy 4-star restaurant before I came along, but I certainly don’t remember any lavish dining experiences as a kid. Dad certainly adopted the typical American diet of fast food well enough, and he enjoyed Americanized versions of ethnic cuisine, like spaghetti and burritos. He never was a steak kind of guy though, as he always preferred seafood.

He loved fish & chips. Back when I was a kid, we used to go to Arthur Treacher’s. You can watch this retro commercial of the restaurant from the late 1970’s. I so remember that ugly brown and yellow color scheme! I also remember the newspaper-like wrapper they would use to line the baskets of food.

Dad loved the fish & chips platter. Mom usually ordered the same thing, and let Dad have a piece of her fish. I was all about the hush puppies!

But Dad would usually end up paying for the meal later. Too much malt vinegar and/or too much tartar sauce would give him digestive issues that would send him running to the bathroom. I clearly remember going to the park after a meal at Arthur Treacher’s and Dad clutching his stomach, with that sickly smile that he knew he had indulged too much in a favorite meal again. I remember dusk falling and Mom sending in a stranger to check in on Dad in the men’s bathroom, because he had been in there so long!

Still, despite those episodes, Dad loved fish & chips. I think they reminded him of back home and his brief time in England as a young man. A taste of his youth long left behind, replaced with the sunny palm trees of southern California.

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June 15, 2012 · 7:14 pm

Dad and his dog-eared library books

As we head into Father’s Day weekend, I’m reminded of some of the quirks of his personality. It drove Mom crazy that Dad insisted upon folding the corners of pages of books borrowed from the library. To him, it was simply practical; but Mom thought about those poor souls who would check out the book after Dad and have to deal with all of the creased corners.

I did my part to support Mom’s campaign. I bought Dad multiple bookmarks over the years, all of which were never used.

Dad also used library books as his day planner. He would stuff letters to be mailed, bills to be paid, etc. in the pages of library books. I wonder how many cards I sent him accidentally went back to the library, to be tossed into the trash by an annoyed librarian!

I for the most part read books electronically now, so there’s little opportunity to follow in Dad’s footsteps. But every time I see a poor book with abused corners, I will think of Dad.

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June 14, 2012 · 7:18 pm

I’ll take you to the doctor

I had a bit of a scare last night. I called my mom for our Wednesday night chat, and she told me she was not doing well. Mom, as you know if you’ve read some of my other posts, is the eternal optimist, so this was a really bad sign. She had told me Sunday night about how they were painting the exteriors of the condos and the fumes were really bad. Combined with this is the smoke from the wildfires that are burning through New Mexico and Colorado right now. Those two things seemed to have triggered a serious reaction.

After we talked Sunday night, she started to feel worse and vomited four or five times overnight. She said there was “brown flecks” in the vomit, which made me really worry. Anyone that has had to deal with serious illness knows that vomit that looks like coffee grounds can be a bad sign, as it usually means old blood. It could be something manageable, like an ulcer, or it could be a cancerous tumor. Or is it just a by-product of breathing in noxious fumes?

Mom went to the doctor thankfully and had some tests done and should get the results back shortly. When Dad was alive and well, if Mom every complained about a health issue (which was rare, Mom’s pretty tough), Dad would say, “Do you want me to take you to the doctor?”

Now there’s no one to take her. I’m over 1,300 miles away. Mom even said that if it’s her time, she’s ready to go. I know she means it. I know she misses Dad desperately and is very lonely. Still, a selfish part of me doesn’t want to lose both of my parents within a year.

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June 13, 2012 · 7:44 pm

Sand, sand everywhere!

As I’ve mentioned before, my parents were not beach people. One of my first (and only) experiences hanging out on a beach in Southern California came courtesy of a school field trip. Of course, as anyone knows who has been to the beach with kids, sand sticks to kids like a magnet. Despite doing nothing more than walking along the beach on the overcast day looking for seashells, I managed to collect a lot of sand.

Dad picked me up from school that day and much of the sand transferred into his car. He was none too pleased about having to clean it out! He knew Mom would complain if she sat down in a seat full of sand the next time she got in the car. It may have taken him awhile, but Dad had caught on to being a good husband that stays out of trouble!

I remember trudging into our apartment, leaving a trail of sand behind me. I never thought I would get rid of all of those tiny grains clinging to my clothes and body!

Needless to say, I’ve joined my parents and am decidedly not a beach person.

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June 12, 2012 · 7:45 pm

Blaming Dad for Mom’s missing fans

It’s a typical hot, humid day here in Atlanta. As I was leaving the subway, I saw an attendant furiously trying to fan her face to cool herself down. This made me remember a cruel moment of my childhood, and one that karma will probably get me for in a few years.

People using hand fans annoy me. I can’t exactly describe why. I’m not sure if it’s the incessant rustling of paper that annoys me or the ineffective breeze that it generates. Luckily for me, there are a lot of battery-operated cooling devices now that have replaced those noisy paper contraptions.

But when I was a pre-teen, Mom was going through menopause. And she had really bad hot flashes. She would take anything, a catalog that came in the mail, one of my Dad’s Catholic magazines, anything, and fold it over and start fanning when the heat struck her. This was usually when we were sitting on the couch watching TV together. It drove me crazy!

So I took to hiding Mom’s fans. I know, I know. But it gets worse. Dad always had a couple of tomes sitting on the coffee table, some epic WWII history book that he was reading, and I would flatten out her fans and hide them in his books. So then Dad would get the blame when Mom was in desperate need of cooling off! Sorry Dad, for turning the fury of a menopausal woman in your direction.

Now I find myself just years away from menonpause myself. And when that first hot flash strikes, I’ll be thinking of Mom and Dad.

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June 11, 2012 · 7:15 pm

Playing songs for Dad

When I was about 7 or 8, my parents bought me a tiny Casio keyboard. It was very lightweight and portable, and sounded nothing like a real piano. Then again, I sounded nothing like a real musician.

As I graduated from “Happy Birthday” and “Skip to My Lou” to slightly more “complex” pieces, I would perform “concerts” for my parents. This would consist of me adding a few notes to the pre-recorded ditties on the machine. I would always pick out something Irish-sounding for Dad. He smiled politely and sipped his coffee as I played. Mom was over-enthusiastic but every kid wants to hear praise for a job well done.

Alas, I never mastered any music keyboard beyond that cheap, tinny Casio. I briefly owned a full-sized keyboard in college, but never found the time to teach myself the basics. Playing the piano is still on my bucket list. I’d like to learn a classic Bing Crosby tune and “Danny Boy” in memory of my dad.

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June 10, 2012 · 4:55 pm

What Dad needed for his pig’s feet

When I was a baby until I was a young girl, Dad would sometimes drink too much. A combination of his Irish upbringing with a mid-life crisis and the stress of having an infant at home most likely drove Dad to the bottle. Dad was never violent when he drank, and he never missed work because of it. So it could have been far worse, but the stress of it was the last thing that Mom needed in her life at that moment.

Of course, time lets one put these things into perspective, and to occasionally find humor in them. Such is the case with the pig’s feet incident.

Dad would go have a couple (or more) beers at the local bar after work. He would come home a bit tipsy, but usually in a friendly and talkative mood. Mom had been stuck at home with a baby all day and was tired. She just wanted to serve Dad his dinner and go to bed.

Dad came home this one night with a paper bag. He pulled out a jar with something floating inside. Mom scrunched up her nose and asked what it was. Dad said it was pig’s feet. He proceeded to open the jar and start noshing. Mom was disgusted and went to get ready for bed.

A few minutes later, Dad called out loudly to Mom. Angrily, she stormed back into the living room and told him to quiet down, or he would wake me up.

“What do you want,” Mom asked tersely, at the end of her rope.

“Foot powder,” my Dad responded innocently.

“Foot powder? What do you want foot powder for,” my mom inquired inpatiently.

“To put on my pig’s feet.” Dad responded, as if it was the most natural request in the world.

Mom was furious at the moment but the story makes her laugh now.

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