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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June 9, 2012 · 6:19 pm

Dad’s campaign against car thieves

Dad always leaned towards the paranoid and suspicious side, long before dementia pushed these tendencies to an unhealthy level. The other day, I saw an older, run-down car with The Club on it and immediately thought of my dad.

I don’t even remember there being a rash of car break-ins in our neighborhood. One day, Dad appeared home with a bright red device called The Club. He was dead-set on keeping thieves away from our old piece of junk car. I was a pre-teen and thought the ugly device was unnecessary. Who would want our old car? In fact, I was hoping someone would steal it, so Dad would be forced to get another car.

Photo credit: AutoBarn.net

Well, our car was never broken into, so I guess The Club worked in that sense. Unfortunately, we ended up spending a lot of time locking ourselves out of the car as well. I don’t know if it was user error or a faulty device, but we had a heck of a time getting the thing off sometimes. This would send Dad into a cursing-under-his-breath fit, with my Mom scolding him for using that kind of language. Finally, Dad became so frustrated with the thing that he stopped locking it. He hoped the appearance of the device alone would keep thieves away.

Too bad we can’t secure the mind from the memory thieves as well as we can protect our car from robbers.

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June 8, 2012 · 8:39 pm

Alzheimer’s goggles

With the Japanese “diet goggles” being in the news this week, and reading a touching blog post about another dementia patient who’s experiencing visual disturbances, I couldn’t help but think about my Dad. I’ve written before about the strange things he would see as his dementia progressed, from black dogs to babies in the woods behind my parents’ house.

It makes me wonder, what do Alzheimer’s patients really see? My dad could look straight through my mom and ask where she was in the next breath. What did he really see? Did he forget that quickly, or did he see something else in place of my mom? He would think I was on one side of the room when I was on the other. When he looked at me, what did he actually see?

It’s almost like some kind of Halloween gag that never ends. A cruel virtual reality that’s created by the brain, not by technology.

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June 7, 2012 · 8:23 pm

If coffee could prevent Alzheimer’s

I was reading today about a study that suggested drinking coffee could delay Alzheimer’s. My first thought after reading the article was that it didn’t do my dad much good, and he drank coffee morning, noon and night.

But then I thought about it in another way. Wonder if all of my dad’s coffee drinking (I did a rough estimate based on his habits and age and estimated over 85,000 cups in his lifetime) delayed the disease by years? Dad was in his mid-seventies when he started to show signs of dementia. Maybe his love of coffee (he would drink it with anything, pizza, pasta, you name it) held off the crumbling of his mind for a few years?

Unfortunately, there’s no way to know and hindsight is 20/20. If we knew what was to come, and that his coffee habit was keeping Alzheimer’s at bay for a few years, perhaps we would have lived our lives differently. Sadly, I doubt we would have changed a thing.

Other than a cigarette, a cup of coffee is the thing that reminds me of my dad the most. Even the last time I saw him alive, he asked for a cup of coffee.

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June 6, 2012 · 8:33 pm

A ride to remember

With summer fast approaching, there’s so much talk about the latest amusement park attractions. I’ve written before about our Disneyland experience. When I was a bit older, probably a pre-teen, we went to Knott’s Berry Farm.

A retro look at the Log Ride from the 1970’s. Photo credit: Stevek at wdwmagic.com

The Log Ride was the hit of the day. Well, at least for Dad and I. Mom was not a fan of the big dip (actually, I think she was worried about getting wet and her makeup running!) I am not a roller coaster fan and Dad never showed much interest in amusement park rides of any kind. But for whatever reason, the stars aligned right that day and Dad and I had a great time together on The Log Ride. We went back a few times, enduring long lines just for the thrill.

As I got older, I experienced less and less special moments like this with my dad. Who would have thought that a silly amusement park ride could still bring a smile to my face after all of this time.

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