I Called Dad Today

*This is how I think of my Dad, the strongest and most handsome man.*

It's New Year's Eve 2005. I called my dad today. I worry about him and I worry that I am so far away from him. We almost lost him a few years ago when he developed bladder cancer, another evil thing that the cigarette companies don't want you to know about. Dad was understandably nervous about his impending surgery as were all of us. The doctor and all the literature said it was a routine procedure, just 7-10 days in the hospital. As it turned out, it was much worse for him. A mistake by the original doctor led to a serious infection, a nine month stay in the hospital and 13 surgeries. We all took turns hovering around his bed, praying and talking to him when he was lucid. The one assurance that we had was that we knew he would be alright, no matter the outcome. Even though we prayed for God's will, neither Dad or the rest of us were ready to part. He came home after those 13 months, but he was not the same person he was when he went into the hospital.
I worry that we (I) might be losing him sooner than we want to. Who wants to lose a parent, especially the last one? Dad has long had problems with his kidneys. One just hasn't worked right for years. Last week he went to the doctor for tests. The lab results were not promising. They showed that his kidneys are both in trouble and he is now borderline for needing dialysis. He told me today that he is going to see a specialist next week.
I worry about Dad's failing body, the daily pain he endures, that he is beginning to forget things and get confused, Mom isn't there to help him and neither am I. I worry because tonight when I talked to him, the rest of the family was down in the rec-room playing cards and he wasn't. He always used like playing cards but tonight he said he wasn't interested anymore. He used to be an avid fisherman and golfer too. He doesn't do that anymore either. The only enjoyment he seems to have left is watching the birds outside the livingroom window.
I worry because the last thing he whispered to Mom as they took her lifeless body from the house was, "I'll see you soon."

It's a GIRL! Part I

Like most young couples, Mom and Dad got busy right away increasing the size of their family. Here they are on their wedding day in 1954. Dad was so handsome in his Navy uniform and Mom was a beautiful bride. I think that is Rose and Bern in the picture with Dad and Mom. Bern was Dad's best friend back then and for many years until his death.

This picture was taken in front of my grandparent's home in Ashland, Massachusetts. It was still a relatively new housing development at the time, consisting of small one and two bedroom Cape Cod houses, all clad in cedar shake. The development extended into a sort of valley where, once upon a time, cattle grazed. Beyond the valley was "the woods" where many hours were spent as soon as I was old enough to leave the yard. I will definately tell you more about those woods.


Here I am, just a few days old, with my mother, my great-grandfather and grandmother. I was born January 6, 1955. It looks like it was a very mild winter.

I was born at the Naval hospital in Chelsea, Massachusetts. When I asked my father about the day I was born, he said he got a parking ticket. My mother didn't remember very much because as she said, "In those days, they knocked you out." She did say that she was not happy with the way the doctor handled my arrival. She said he handled me like a "piece of meat."




At four months old I became a pin up baby. Much to my embarassment, my father took this photo to France with him and had a sidewalk artist create a huge pastel painting. I now own said painting and it is well hidden in a deep dark closet. I wonder if parents ever think of their children as adults when they do things like that.

How I used to Think it Was

When I was younger, much younger, than these almost fifty-one years, I thought I could do everything. In fact, I wanted to do everything. I thought that by now my life would have eased into a nice regular rythm. I'd be playing with my grandkids, taking them to the park, and baking cookies.

I once thought that I would stay home and raise my kids while their father worked to bring home the bacon. I'd cook scumptious dinners every evening, sew cute little dresses and read bedtime stories. I guess being born in the fifties, and watching shows like Leave it to Beaver, I Love Lucy, and Father Knows Best gave me that mindset. Heaven knows, I didn't learn it from my parents.

Once, I thought that I could make something of myself and in the long run give my kids a better life than I had growing up. I bought into the notion that by getting a good education, I could be something. So, when my youngest turned one and I turned 36, I began my educational persuit in earnest. It took eight and one-half years to complete a Bachelors degree in eductaion that included two endorsements. I do not have a teaching job but continue to hope that I will one day make something of myself. Perhaps the proverbial they think I am too old to begin a new career. Who knows? I have been searching for a classroom of my own for three years now.

I used to think that marriage (at least mine of 26 years) would last forever. I even told my now ex-husband that I would never divorce him, rather I would kill him first. Some days, I think that killing him would have been much easier. I'd now be living in a cell, far from domestic strife, getting fresh linens and three square meals a day, in relative peace and quiet.

I used to think I was ugly and usleless. I got quiet depressed over all of that until I realized it was a result of the marriage. I used to think that since my ex-husband didn't have any use for me, then no one else would either(I am happy to report that isn't true.)

I used to think that if I raised my kids right, they would turn out okay. But, who am I to say what is okay? My oldest, a girl, is a teacher too. Of course she is much younger than me and she cannot find a classroom either. That makes me think that maybe it isn't my age holding me back. My middle child, also a girl wound up following in my earlier career choice. She's one of those ladies at the hospital that has to have all your vital information, like insurance, while you are writhing in pain in a too hard chair. The jury is still out on the third child, once again, a girl. She has some notion about becoming a hair dresser and thinks she doesn't need and education. (Well, I suppose there is one in every family, huh?)

Finally, for this post anyway, I used to think that my parents would always be there for me. Isn't that what parents are suppose to do? Well, sad to say, they weren't and now for the most part they can't be. My biological mother passed away about 17 years ago from lung cancer. Ironically, my step-mother passed away on October 15th of this year from just the same thing. My father, on the other hand, is still living, though not so well. He relies on a walker and one of those motorized scooters to get around. He can hardly stand up straight and is beginnng to show signs of confusion and forgetfulness. I used to think he was the strongest, most handsome man I ever knew(even more so than Fess Parker) especially when he was dressed up in his naval officer uniform.

I used to think a lot of things. Now I think of more things than ever before. I suppose that is what you do when you reach middle age and haven't yet reached your goals.