Saturday, September 11, 2010
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Visiting Dad- Sept 1 2010
For some reason, I was telling my children recently the sketchy story of Poppy as the Green Hornet. The details escape me. Dad, in his childhood, somehow decided he would try his hand at flying—without an airplane. Possibly prompted by a green cape and a masked superhero vigilante named the “Green Hornet” (and I’m sure without any encouragement from brothers, nephews, cousins!), Dad took to the roof. The outcome of the flying attempt has become a forgotten minor detail. I told the children that Poppy had told me some about that “Green Hornet” experience, but Grammy might not even know. We’d have to ask Uncle Virgil now; Poppy won’t remember. Today, I asked Dad about it. “Remember the Green Hornet, Dad?” As he watched me with those blue eyes, I silently begged him to remember. Please, say you remember. One small memory. Tell me something, ANYthing. Nothing. A slight shake of his head told me no. My heart sank. Mom tried. “Remember the time you chased Cora because she pushed you over the chicken coop?” Again, slight head shake. Nothing. She tried again, “How about Mitch and his hamburger stand?” This time he closed his eyes, irritated. “I remember it all. Everything you want me to. Every little trivia.” At least he can still be sarcastic! I had to chuckle in spite of it all.
His fingernails needed desperate attention. I know he detests having them cared for. He usually lets me take care of it, but still gets bothered. “Don’t twist them,” he often yells at me after a clip. I was sure to talk him through it this time. There were a few howls and winces, but all in all OK! When I said, “See, Dad, now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He said, with a straight face, “Yeah, that was a snap.” I have to laugh when I still hear those little snippets of his sarcastic humor.
Apparently Dad was in a rare hungry mood (and he loves sweets). “Do you have anything good to eat?” (He’d already eaten a banana.) My trunk was full of groceries yet to be unloaded. Fortunately, I had purchased a few “apple fritter” donuts to take to a friend at work. When I opened the package to give him one, he commented on how good they smelled. He managed to polish off one of those puppies in record time! I didn’t know he still could do so well on his own! I asked him if they reminded him of the apple turnovers his mother used to make. Of course, he didn’t remember. But I can hope, can’t I?
His fingernails needed desperate attention. I know he detests having them cared for. He usually lets me take care of it, but still gets bothered. “Don’t twist them,” he often yells at me after a clip. I was sure to talk him through it this time. There were a few howls and winces, but all in all OK! When I said, “See, Dad, now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He said, with a straight face, “Yeah, that was a snap.” I have to laugh when I still hear those little snippets of his sarcastic humor.
Apparently Dad was in a rare hungry mood (and he loves sweets). “Do you have anything good to eat?” (He’d already eaten a banana.) My trunk was full of groceries yet to be unloaded. Fortunately, I had purchased a few “apple fritter” donuts to take to a friend at work. When I opened the package to give him one, he commented on how good they smelled. He managed to polish off one of those puppies in record time! I didn’t know he still could do so well on his own! I asked him if they reminded him of the apple turnovers his mother used to make. Of course, he didn’t remember. But I can hope, can’t I?
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