Bionic

My Dad is 76 years old.
I'm still learning things about him. For instance: during WWII, he had a job in a dry cleaning store forming wire clothing hangers. They couldn't get the hangers from the factories, but they could get rolls of wire, so my dad made hangers, using a wood form.

As a teen, my dad worked in a textile mill, and when he was old enough, he enlisted and served in the Air Force (first as a cook and later as a flight line mechanic and supervisor) and later he returned to school and then worked at a top secret (he still doesn't tell us much of what he did except that it was in a VERY BIG room) uranium enrichment plant, and later on he wrote safety procedures at another plant....but now he's finally retired for real and he rides his tractor mower and sometimes has to cut down trees, and he scouts out interesting restaurants to try with my mom in the different states they visit.

He tracks hurricanes on paper graph maps each year.
He can sit all day long watching football or baseball games on TV but he really loves the Lady Vols.
He works crossword and mental puzzles, and computer mahjong, and he takes thousands of photographs every year. (He still prefers "real" film though my mom has converted to digital.)
He searches for old service buddies in computer telephone directories, and sometimes gets to visit them. He has traveled 800 miles to attend a funeral of one of his old friends.
He writes messages to family members online.
He finds really wonderful birthday cards that make you feel special.
He is generally quiet, but has a quick and kind wit, and he is reliable.
He's really pretty cool, and he's one of the people I respect most in this world.

He quit smoking many times, and I think the last time he smoked was about 10 years ago, which makes me very proud too.

He has a pacemaker and an artificial hip and dentures, but he is the most "together" and "real" person you could ever meet. He got the pacemaker a few years ago because his heart just got slower and slower, and almost forgot how to beat. He got the artificial hip when the pain got too great to let him do the activities he enjoys doing, like climbing ladders and fixing his roof and crawling under sinks and fixing dishwashers.
He can repair almost anything but he bruises easily.
Mom wants him to dig out an area of the front yard to build a koi pond and fountain, with a nice shaded bench area, but he is a little resistant. I think maybe its because there are three young children next door who could sneak over, and be at risk. I think Dad is waiting until they are a little older and can be careful around the water. The children come to visit him often and when they are away, he feeds their horse. Dad may also worry about cranes and other birds eating pet fish in the pond Mom wants.
Dad gets a little frailer, smaller, every year, and I keep forgetting that he takes a "small" instead of a "medium" size shirt.
He gives some of the best hugs in the world.

Belongings

Reading stories of people picking through the litter that their possessions have become in the Katrina flooding makes me realize that very few of the objects and small treasures I have so carefully collected since my migratory days are truly important. Sure, I would miss many things were I not able to look at them or bring them out for holidays, but I doubt they are what I would miss most.

What's really important, and priceless to me, are the photographs and the letters and documents that represent the milestones of my life and my children's lives... the banner my daughter wore as a poster child, the wedding pictures of my son and pictures of my parents as young adults starting their own lives...the toasting crystal goblets we bought for our 25th Anniversary, those are the items I would mourn the loss.

The many little knick knacks that adorn my shelves, the many roosters and hens who infest my kitchen, and the Asian boxes and baskets and rattan tables I have artfully placed in my living room...they are just pretty things. They represent my need to nest and to feel that I have created something lovely and peaceful. They are not me. At least not a permanent me. They may have been a part of me for a moment.

I wonder as I think about all the things that those Gulf Coast families must do without or try to replace, if these are things that can be replaced (NOT the people and pets who are gone), how do these Gulf Coast souls feel? Will they find and salvage the special things of their hearts? Will they be able to move past the pain and experience something good after all this begins to fade? If they have held onto some tokens of their lives before the storm, I pray that those tokens will help them endure the pain, and help them to move on. I pray that those tokens can represent something truly important in their lives.

Breathe

"Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time, which produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him rather frail and with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him... what?
Answer: A super calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis."


Ok, its not original, but still kinda cute. I was sent this and some other puns back in October of '03, and saved it. I have just recently realized that not only am I a pack rat in my physical life, I am also a pack rat in my computer life. Parade (Sunday supplement newspaper) Magazine had a little essay this week about hoarders and pack rats and how they can get help for their illlness. I think mine is genetic. Paternal grandmom was a hoarder, world class.

Tomorrow we plan to make at least five sets of glasses for evacuees who have been temp-settled here. Another private OD is donating the exams (his wife works with Red Cross and she set it up.) Our docs are a little leery of tying up their chair time with folks who can't afford to pay for replacement glasses, but I have to give our docs credit in that they donate over 50 exams a year to indigent people in our area. Maybe they will kick in some more exams if we find a lot are needed.

It feels good to be able to do something as well as donate money. I can't go to the gulf coast, but maybe I can help make life a little easier for some who move up here.

Boundaries

"Cleaning your house while your kids are still growing is like shoveling the walk before it stops snowing." -- Phyllis Diller
Now that the kids are grown, Phyllis's philosophy is so much a part of me that I am hopeless. If you come to visit, expect to see some cobwebs and some dog hair, and very cluttered kitchen counters.

Tonight I stitched little elastic loops into my fancier red chappeaus.
I had an exam this afternoon (history, weight, blood pressure, ekg, blood, etc) for an insurability test.
Also went shopping at the thrift store and got NEW designer shorts for 99 cents!!!!
Daughter had a dental appointment for a filling early this morning. The first filling she's ever needed. In all her 20+ years.
For someone who has difficulty brushing her teeth well, she has been lucky.
What else?
Oh, we sat out in our swing on the deck tonight, almost the first time this year because of the rain and the heat and the mosquitoes, and we sipped *cranberry/lemonade/raspberry rum* slushies. And daughter blew billions of bubbles that have some kind of bondy additive stuff that allows them to just sit forever, or til you have to walk through them and they pop guey and look like spiderweb leftovers. She had a blast. The dog remembered how to jump up into the swing and agreed to sit quietly while we "swang" and sipped and enjoyed the bubbles, and talked about how we don't feel comfortable donating money for Katrina victims online and I will have to drive down to the bank tomorrow morning to give them our checks. (Daughter wants to give some too.) We look at the news web sites and watch the tv, and we have so little comprehension about what those people are going through, and we are just so glad that our families are not there.