Century

Had my father lived, he'd have been 100 years old - as of yesterday. 

Today would have been my mother's 92nd.   ....you know, had she lived. 

I don't have any words of wisdom about this. Oddly, I'm more surprised that in one form or another, I think about each of them daily. 

Maybe only for nanoseconds, but it comes up. I don't think it helps that on a daily basis I walk the dog past a house where my father lived when he was five-ish. 

If I wanted to annoy my mother, I'd tell her I was a probable mistake. If I wanted to piss her off, I'd mention my little sister was a definite one. 

710 and I mention longevity often. I've mentioned it here too. Both sides of my family live into their 90s - and above. This does not bode well for me. I have zero desire to live to that age. 

There was an interesting article a few weeks back about a man who wanted to live only around to 75. He stopped doing colonoscopies, prostate screenings, flu shots, pneumonia vaccines et al, and let nature take its inevitable course. 

All-in-all, it's not bad planning. It's controlled (to a degree) expiration. And it would certainly beat being 94 and all alone.

That all said, I came across a bunch of pics my grandfather took in 1920-21. 

My father was their first born. True to his nature, the picture mentions the hospital, the room, the date. Not a word about his newborn son or even his wife.  My grandfather, by most accounts, was kind of a dick. Even as a nine year old, I knew it. However, I've had corroboration. 

In the past, this is the evening we'd get together - for my parent's birthdays. Last year, we did it with one of my sisters. This year, again, it will just be 710 and myself. Perhaps we will go stand on my sister's driveway, as it has been months and months since we've seen each other. But before that, I'll drive over to the cemetery just to check in on both my parents. 

Song by: Feist

Song for My Father

Today would have been my father's 94th birthday.

As you probably (or might) remember, he passed away about four months ago.

We had a really good relationship. I don't know it was a great one, but I don't think that the fault of either one of us - just a generational thing.

Since he married later in life, he had kids later in life. And since I was a probable mistake second to last of the children, there is even a bigger age gap.

There was the generational way fathers were "back then".

My father was born right after WWI.  Yes, the Great War. He served in WWII.

I have found, while Tom Brokaw might call that age "the greatest generation", that is just not completely true. They are a stoic bunch. They are stubborn beyond belief. And they're not really good at communication.

They never talked about the horrors of war. They never talk about their health unless absolutely necessary and even then, they downplay it all. That's not to say it is not a privacy thing, they just don't want to impose. My opinion, of course.

I do not see this as a fault  - trust me. Or at least, not his fault.

TV fucked it up for our generation - and those after. No father was really like Ward Cleaver, Robert Young or even Mr. Eddie's Father. I don't know if talking about your feelings, or talking to your children about their feelings was a considered a sign of weakness or not.

My father's upbringing was one where his parents were somewhat distant, which was kind of the style of the time. He was raised as much, if not more, by the help as he was his mother and father. It is my assessment that he had no good examples on how to be a hands-on parent. And let's face it, back then, mothers did most of the child raising anyways.

My father and I got along better then fine - unless playing golf together was involved. Then there were just hurt feelings....meaning mine. And he loved 710 - so that was enough for me.

While I clearly loved my father, I can't say now how often I thought of him. It is just one of those things you somewhat take for granted. You dealt with each other when you needed or on visits - though those were weekly.

I can easily say, for the last year, and certainly for the last four months, I have thought about him daily. Probably several times per day. Before his death, it was just helping coordinate his care or checking on his well-being. Since his passing, it's just been random thoughts, but they happen daily.

All of this is uncharted territory for me. None of it is a bad thing, just an observation I've had over the last few weeks.

Tomorrow, on my mother's 86th birthday, we will raise a glass to my father.....and my mother. Having both of those days so close together, along with the holidays, will make it impossible to forget him......and his day.

I get that could be emotional for many - and it might be. But if nothing else, it is a great way to remember him and bring a smile to people who knew him.



Song by: Sarah McLachlan

Guilt

I know I really shouldn't be posting this, but it just made me laugh and laugh and laugh - not that it made my friend who is living through it do the same.  ...and to be honest, I truly needed the laughs yesterday. My friend always provides them when he relays stories of his mother.

But he doesn't know about the blog, so no harm; no foul.  I hope.

A little background:

To tell you that "Jerry" is Jewish is only important to the story due to the High Holidays references and because, well, his mother has just about every other stereotypical Jewish mother beat in the Guilt Dept. She could teach a Ph.D level course in the subject.

Doesn't every mother try to lay guilt onto their kids???  My mother tries, but I can - for the most part - let it roll off my back. Not all children can be as callous as I.

"Jerry" travels a lot for work. And I mean, A LOT. He might be home for 36 hours a week. Maybe. And not even in a row. Oh, and he's 36.

I call my friend "Jerry" here to protect the innocent. This is not his real name. And not that he's innocent. But for this purpose, he is taking a mental beating. He sends these exchanges to me for consolation. I'm not sure what he thinks when I reply with "RORRRRRRRRRRRRR".

The poor guy.

Below is their latest email exchange. Mom is in black text. Jerry's is in blue. Anything in quotes (save a referenced one) are mine to change some details not crucial to the content of the story, but the overall matter factors in somehow.

....and Away. We. Go.  (say like Billy Eichner.)

I was wondering what your plans are for Yom Kippur (I need to get you a ticket if you are coming home, yes RH & YK are a package deal in my world) - are you really skipping it bc of "Foley"? Yom Kippur Friday night and Sat. - you can still be in Dallas on Sunday, I am sure Delta flies there from LGA. Please let me know your plans. I really do not ask much of you, but not being alone this one day is very important to me.

xo

I believe I have to sleep in Dallas on Saturday night to be ready to go Sunday morning. That agenda has not yet come out, and won't for a few weeks yet. If YK is the more important of the two (and I understand why), I will do what I can to make that work. I simply can't do two separate trips to New York and get my job done.  

The last flight from New York to Dallas on Saturday is at 6:30 out of JFK. When does SSTTE do Yizkor? I do not remember.

xo 

Yizkor is the same time as last year 4 pm - sorry to ask so much of you I forgot you are no longer Jewish - don't come "home" at all - I clearly understood where I figured in your life on a certain day that meant something to me but nothing to you - "du min isht contervers" Just call when you need something, you're good at that - and I do remember you telling me you told them there are 3 days per year you do not work - guess you got over that in a hurry. Go with the goy

Home in quotes (above) is his mother's doing - not mine.

Please dial down the mean words. I'm doing what I can. I don't know where I am 2 weeks from now, much less 10. I don't have data around where I need to be and when as it relates to the "Foley" Project - some of it is dictated by the "security", and is not up for debate or negotiation. 

I'm doing what I can. It doesn't make me a goy.

You are really good and flipping things - it is not mean - it is hurt - just do what you want and please do not insult my intelligence with the "dictated by security" - yeah "where is Jerry" #1 on their list - I did not say you are a goy, I said you are not Jewish it was "go with the goy" - just take me out of the equation and your life is easier 

If your intent is to hurt me you have done a good job - not one that I am proud of but I am sure someone is

"Roberta":  For. The. Win.

I think my favourite part of it all was that she was going to pay his airfare to come "home" until I realized it she meant a ticket for shul.

To be honest, this is one of the more mild stories that have been told to me. This barely scrapes the surface. But normally I get verbal accounts, never written documentation. I struggled using it for about 19 minutes and then realized I had nothing else to write about today.

....and I needed the laugh. And Jerry told me he was happy to give it to me.



Song by: Marianne Faithful

Anniversary

Yesterday was my parent's 56th anniversary.

Amazing how time goes. It was only six years ago that we hosted their Golden Anniversary.

I didn't forget their special day, but it did coincide at dinner at my sister's.  So we combined the events.

710 was great enough to pick up a cake to take over.  He was telling me about how they decorated the cake for him:  Happy Anniversary Bob & El.

It made me chuckle.  Kiddingly I said, "so, the cake is from you?"

He looked confused.

I said, "well, the rest of us just call them 'mom & dad'". 

He found it funny too. If my parents noticed, they didn't say a thing. And in reality, all the grand kids call my dad 'Bob'.  It was a lot easier to say for a toddler than "grandpa".

It was low key. Maybe it shouldn't be. 56 years is pretty amazing. Then I started thinking of it, 710 and I have been together half as long as my parents. It's hard to imagine we started seeing each other at their 28th anniversary.

710 is hoping we make it to 56 - I'm not so sure. I mean, I'd love to be with him that long, it is just that I'm not sure I want to live that long. Morbid?  Perhaps.

...and no offense to 710, but the cake wasn't all that good.  If he wants me to stick with him for another quarter century plus, he's got to pick up his game when it comes to selecting dessert.



Song by: Suzanne Vega

Appalachian Spring

Ok, technically it's not spring, but there are so few songs I own that have "Cumberland", "In-Laws" or "Appalachia" in them.  ...and by so few, I mean one.

710 and I are in Maryland visiting his parents. He thinks I'm a good son-in-law because I go and see his folks 2-3 times a year.

The man has the son-in-law title all sewn up as he has to deal with mine 2-3 per month!

While this trip was mostly work - taking care of some estate and housing things for his aunt -  it still kind of felt like a get away.

We were tarred (that is Appalachian for "tired") from a long and hot day of working, as it was just the two of us. But there was a huge sense of accomplishment as well. I hope his folks feel the same way, but it's really not about the recognition....or shouldn't be.

I got to walk around the town while 710 was attending to other chores.  It is a charming town, or can be. Some of the scenery can be great, but from downtown, you don't get a sense of the mountains as much. And who doesn't like a quaint train station?

Of course, there was a dinner with the in-laws as well.  It was a nice meal.

And I love how doting they are on each other and how they walk together, like 710 and I do....I mean, if 710 wasn't 40 feet in front of his parents, and 55 feet in front of me. But I found them so cute, I couldn't help but snap a picture of them.

I can see ourselves like this - if I ever live that long.


Song by:  Aaron Copland

Mom and Dad's Waltz

I was at my cousin David's house a few weeks back and saw a picture of my parents attending his parent's wedding.  Did you get all that?

The year was 1956 or 1957. Depending on that actual date, my parents were just married or possibly still "dating".  It is weird to think of my parents pre-marriage, as they've been wed for 55+ years.

My father and mother are in the foreground second and third from the left, respectively. I don't ever remember seeing my dad smiling like this, let alone in a photo.  It is fun to see.  I like woman (the X-Files look-alike lady) next to my father, staring at him. Or more to the point - staring at him in utter disbelief.  It probably wasn't the first or last time someone has done that.

Yes, my mother was rail-thin.  She still is.

My uncle is on the other side of my mother.  I never knew Ernie, as he died 10 days after I was born.  I don't think it was my fault or anything. There is another uncle on the other side of the table. Eddie is mostly obscured, his wife, not so much.

I'm 89% sure that my grandfather is the unobscured man on the other side of the table, looking directly at the camera, but I'd bet dollars to doughnuts that is not my grandmother next to him.  I'll have to ask on both counts.

Then there is that blonde lady who is clearly more captivated at something going on across the room than anything happening with the people at the table at which she was assigned.

David was kind enough to let me borrow the photo. I took it home, scanned it and sent it out for printing. They are getting an 8x10 for their birthdays, which are today (dad) and tomorrow (mom).  I'll be curious to see their reaction.

For our own house, I got a 5x7 copy to place on a shelf. It's nice to have reminders of the history from which you came.  Oddly enough, the only framed picture I have of my parents was taken at David's sister's wedding.  My father might be wearing the same tux for all I know.  I'll have to ask.



Song by:  Iris DeMent

Dirty and Deep

I know today is Father's Day.  No worries, I have that covered with my dad.  The man needs and wants for nothing, and I suppose at 90.5, you've earned that.   Still I got him a shirt when I was out at Pebble Beach last month and more importantly, two cinnamon rolls from Panera.  The rolls alone makes him thrilled.

He doesn't get excited by too much - for g-d's sake, he has two purple hearts from WWII.  Not to say that he's jaded, like his son.  If I ever need to be reminded what I'm going to end up looking like, I just have to look at him, or a picture of his father.  There is no escaping that one, unless I visit a plastic surgeon - and soon!  I'm ok with my destiny.

We did Father's Day yesterday - mainly because my mother asked that we come out to help move 10 yards of mulch she bought.  Luckily for us, my nephew, niece and one of my brothers-in-law got there first and moved most of it.  We ended up with only an hour's worth of work of hauling it and placing it where my mom wanted.

It was probably more of a Mother's Day gift,  but they both get to enjoy sitting on their deck and looking at it. I guess it could be a Father's Day gift in the fact that he didn't have to do any of the work, not that he really could have. He is pushing 91 years old.

 My folks do have a pretty sweet back yard, and the mulch does look good in their grove.

There's a little more of their yard over my shoulders.  

But that was my pre-Father's Day Father's Day.  Now I get to spend the actual day doing laundry, cutting the lawn and packing for my next work trip, which starts tomorrow.





Song by:  Deborah Harry

Mother's Pride

So by now - you all know I had a crappy week. But the week has ended and I have to move on.

And while I thank all of you who wished me a happy day on Thursday, I got one special email that made me a little emotional. Normally, I'm not swayed much by stuff like this - but I'm chalking it up to my crappy week. ...and it just hit me in a certain way.

Happy Birthday dear Blobby. Happy Birthday! I love you so much!!!! M.


The M is my mom. ...and no, she didn't really call me 'Blobby'. She put my real name in the email.

So I did call her - as I always do on my birthday. The reality is, I did nothing on this day. She did all the work. I just kind of showed up. It is really mothers that should be celebrated on these days - not their snot-nosed kids.

But I called and told her I liked her email. She wasn't buying any of it, but I plead my case - and I told her about Fred. I didn't say I was probably feeling emotionally vulnerable, but maybe she figured that out.

Mind you - all that good will got flushed straight down the toilet when I got home and she had dropped off a card that (and I'm paraphrasing) told me what a pain in the ass I am.

...and just for the icing on the cake, she put my father's initials on the envelope. Now my father and I have similar initials, and sure, she's known him longer, but still...........

Now she's claiming to have done it on purpose, and I ain't buying it. In reality she knows I hold power of attorney and will throw her in a home given half the chance for being senile.


Song by: George Michael

Summer Evening

Last night we had plans. Nothing formalized, mind you, but in our minds we kind of had plans. Mostly a movie.

Fail.

A late afternoon nap for Denton kind of blew the movie and schedule out of the water. So we just opted for dinner. Not that we had that plan. A beautiful summer evening and we had not solidified dinner plans......except for the fact we didn't want to make it ourselves.

So out we went. Place #1 and 2 had massive waits. Well, I don't wait or anyone. I'm me! So off we walked to place #3...or was it #4 - since we almost stopped our stride to look at #3 and opted not for italian fud.

We must have been 200 ft past it when something caught my ear. Some crazy lady was running and yelling - and waving something, so I assume I dropped something - not that I had anything on me to drop.

That crazy lady? My mother.

She and my father were at the italian place and saw us walk by. So, there's nothing like an octogenarian bolting from a restaurant and waving her napkin to flag down her one and only son. How she saw us in the first place is beyond me. It's not like they were sitting outside.

Oh yes, 'they'. My father was with her. She never even told him why she ran out.

But it was nice, we ended up joining them for dinner - the second Saturday in a row. I guess we could have begged off, but we like having time with them and we won't always have these opportunities.

So, the best laid plans are not always the best.


Song by: Gillian Welch

We're Golden

It's over. The 50th Anniversary Party for my parents, that is. It went well. Actually it went very well - going off without a hitch and no major incidents. No drama. No family meltdowns. No surprises. Sure, that doesn't make for a very exciting blog entry, but it's just how it went.

The prep to the house got completed about 15 minutes before people started showing up. The entire place looked pretty frickin' good, if I say so myself. People oooh'd and aaaah'd over the house - by those who had never seen it and those who had seen it prior to the downstairs re-do.

True story. Funny story. On Thursday, Denton went down to the florist to order flowers for the living room, to be delivered on Saturday. The florist, whom apparently was described as an over the top Rip Taylor (eeek.........oh.....and shock!) said he was making a delivering in our neighborhood that day anyway. When he got our address, he said, 'oh, that's where I'm delivering flowers to on Saturday!' I don't know if there is a code of silence/ethics to floral delivery, but if so, he breached it. Turns out Rebecca and Andrew had ordered flowers for the event - which was extremely thoughtful. Even moreso, since I never got a chance to call her to thank her and wish her a happy birthday!!! The flowers were purdy too.

The food was great - at least I heard it was!!! Chef Bob did a bang-up job pulling stuff together. But playing host is hard. As I was running around, getting drinks, or greeting arrivals, It is safe to say I never spent more than seven minutes w/anyone person - and never in a row. I missed the entire cheese and fruit plate. Never got to touch it. I did snag the last two shrimp of the two different platters. The homemade cocktail sauce was incredible. I did get some tenderloin, salmon, orzo salad, and the other pasta dish, but well after most everyone had eaten (I'm not complaining). Everyone was asking for recipes for some of the stuff - so it was well liked. The yellow and red tomatoes in mozzarella and balsamic vinegar were very good. Everyone seemed to enjoy the cake too. My littlest niece was VERY disappointed that she didn't get a flower from the cake. They were real - and not edible.

Our other big outings have been for close friends - and though I do care to make a good party impression on them - they are easy-going and can fend for themselves as needed. Heck, we've been friends for 18 years and up, so there is a certain informality with them. With extended family, former neighbors, and co-workers of parents so on, one must perform. It's exhausting!

Some lessons learned from an event like this to be sure. There was no lack of food, that's for sure. We could have done with about a third less of the main dishes and still had plenty. So much for going by head counts!!! We had about 55 attendees - with about four to five people who came that were not expected and two last minute no-shows (I'm not complaining).

In the future, I'll listen to Denton about the bar. I figured beer, wine, vodka and gin would be all we needed. He insisted on scotch too. I poo-poo'd it. Who drinks that, I thought. Wouldn't you know, as hard liquor goes, more scotch was downed than the rest. Heck - I don't think a drop of gin was poured. So much for my perception.

The take-aways though were my parents, who were very pleased with the event. They had fun and didn't have to do a thing. Starting at 5:00p was good. I think everyone was gone by 9:30 - though the clean-up took us another two hours, but that was ok. I mean we couldn't come down in the morning smelling salmon left-overs, could we??

I'll post some additional pictures later. But it's over and we're tired!