Wait Till Your Father Gets Home

There have been two things in my life that have grounded me... one of them was my dog Shelby.  So much of my life's decisions were based on what was best for her, particularly in the way of housing.  I've moved 38 times in my life... and she moved probably half of that with me in her 12 years.  She was pretty adaptable, but for the first month or so at a new place, she'd run to the closet door when I asked her if she wanted to go out to make a sissy... poor thing.  The other thing that grounded me is my Dad... having to watch over him now keeps me from making so many erratic decisions and moves.

Many of you know that I moved my 83 year old Dad in with me because of the situation with my addict brother (see many, many, many previous posts from the last couple of years).  Anyway, it's been an interesting situation for me, especially since I'm used to living by myself.  It's odd how we, as children, become the parents to our parents;  something that I still have yet to get used to.  Throughout my day, I see so many instances that take me back to my childhood when my Dad would scold me for leaving the milk out... or making a mess... or leaving the window open when it rains... taking my shoes off before walking on the rug... or getting me to take the garbage out (the list goes on and on).  And now, it's the reverse... it's me making sure that my Dad does all those things.  I have to keep on him... and he has a child-like sense of accomplishment when he does something that I don't have to remind him of... he points it out to me.  It's really kind of cute.

Whether he's called Dominic, Dom, Pap (Pappy), Dad, or Uncle Butch, he's loved by everyone.   Willing to give you his last nickel and the shirt off his back, he takes care of so many people who can't take care of themselves... which is funny since I have to take care of him.  I learned my sense of helping out the fellow man from him... as well as his work ethic and old-fashioned morals.  He accepted his lot in life;  to work hard for his family and provide for them... and that's exactly what he did.  A brakeman on the P and LE Railroad for 35 years (not an easy job), he was gone several days at a time all throughout my childhood, which makes the time that I have with him now even more precious.  My Mom never worked and didn't drive... and was the disciplinarian... and my Dad was the passive, simple one.  It was my Mom that spanked us, although I managed to get his goat a few times.  I can remember my Mom yelling at me for something that I probably deserved... and I would say back "you just wait until Daddy gets home"... like he was going to side with me.  I was definitely a handful as a child, diagnosed as being hyperactive (today's ADD)... so my being around was enough of a challenge.  I am extremely lucky to have been adopted by him... I couldn't have ended up with a better role model or person.

Some of my most vivid memories growing up with my Dad were...

-  the time he took me to his train yard and let me drive a train
-  sitting at the attic window (which had a view of the top of the street) with our family dog, Lucky... waiting for my Dad to come down the street.  
-  coming home late at night as a teen with him sitting in his chair asleep (waking up, telling me he was only resting his eyes) and I'd catch the end of some black and white movie with him (he turned me on to Sunset Boulevard (my favorite movie now)).
-  how he and I would go out in the ocean in Myrtle Beach and collect sand dollars, and I would go sell them on the beach.
-  the time that I backed the car into the rock wall and poked a hole in the fender and got the car stuck and then hid under the cellar steps for 6 hours.  Or sitting with him in the driveway while he worked on the car (me pounding the cement with his hammer and him getting mad).
-  when my Mom passed and we needed to order flowers from the place that I always got flowers from (Max and Gayles) and he called it 'Massengils' (the douche company).
-  when he was helping me move for the 20th time... he said to me "so, do you think this will be the last move?"... and I said 'probably not'... and that was ok with him.  While I don't think he understands what possesses me to do some of the things that I do, he supports my crazy unconditionally.
-  him walking up the sidewalk on my 12th birthday with my Easy-Bake Oven (God, how did they not know I was gay?).  I can still remember how I lit up watching him come up the sidewalk... with a grin on my face a mile wide.

My Dad was always physically strong as well as very handy at fixing anything.  It's hard to see him now... aging... his cognitive skills not as sharp... he can't figure things out things like he used to... his strength is gone... he can't hear so well... he's having some back problems... he sits so much.  It breaks my heart and sometimes my spirit to see him slow down... much like the effects of kryptonite on Superman, so is aging on my super hero.  Yes, these years are precious... and things happen for a reason.  I joke about his toast crumbs... and his dirty fingerprints here and there... but I wouldn't trade this time for anything.  There's not a day that goes by that I don't think... 'is this going to be the day?'  Being a person of habit, all it takes is him being 15 minutes late for me to start worrying about something happening to him, because then I'll be on my own.... and even though I take care of everything now... I'd really have to be an adult.  As long as my Daddy is around... I don't have to fully grow up.

We have everything we need, so I like to get him a card and get him some scratch-off lottery tickets to put in the envelope.  It gives him something to do and, who knows, he may win something big (my retirement as well)... so it's a win-win situation.  When he opened the envelope and saw the tickets, he lit up.  That's his Easy-Bake Oven.

Anyone remember this show?