things I didn't consider...

Emilio reminded me, last week, that having Grandpa here means that it will be harder to let him go, when the time comes.

I honestly hadn't considered this, when mulling the possibilities of his coming to live with us. I wouldn't have said that I was particularly close to my dad, I sort of just knew that he was out there, not too, too far away. But now, as he settles into our home, I feel myself drawing nearer to him. I find myself growing fond of his peculiarities...of the way he marvels over the Starbucks french press (and other modern gizmos), of his television too-loud-in-the-room-across-the-hall, of the way he asks me, each morning, if we need anything from the market.

I find his list-making endearing. And I love that, at the end of the day, he'll report that he forgot to get such-and-such (in spite of the list). I have asked him to consider the canvas bags for transport during his outings to Target. He prefers the plastic, we may need the bags...

then I just find a kind way to suggest that the bags are choking the planet (what about those poor cows in India?) and let the issue go...

I think that all of this means that I am closer to him, already. I know it means that I am more tolerant than I thought I could be.

and loving my dad more, at this point in our lives, is certainly worth considering...

tonight...change I can believe in...

there is a wonderment in the land tonight...

there is a hope, a belief that this country might now make me honored to be a humble citizen of this world...

there is a man who can make me believe Americans want good things for each other, and for the brethren and sisters beyond our border...

LET ME BELIEVE, TONIGHT...

(Hillary fought valiantly, dad wanted Hillary to win the nomination--thought she was better prepared to fight McCain...she, too, made a glorious history...)

he'll get behind Obama now, we'll get to watch these next few months with anticipation, with occasional breathlessness...

I'll get to hope that this man can care for the least of us...

there is such hope, I want to just feel it.

Baseball and old movies…

My very sweet special-man-friend, K, is able to pull the best from dad. They can talk baseball and old movies like nobody’s business.

Dad is a genius in these realms. And I guess I never knew it…conversation in our house never led into these areas. In any case, dad and K can talk and be specific and name players and dates and list films and favorite actors and, just basically, be darn smart together.

It’s no wonder dad couldn’t indulge these interests while raising children with my mother. They had a really sick daughter to care for, that demand, and others, kind of detracted from what they might have given to each other…

But the fact that dad had all this knowledge sort of stored away impresses me now. The fact that he can remember these things—events that happened 50+ years ago—is remarkable, to me.

And I’m so glad that these two neat guys can share this information with each other…makes me appreciate each of them more…

These teen years…or, wait your turn for the bathroom…

Dad probably never thought he’d have the privilege of watching
another young girl navigate her teen years…though certainly, Eva does
this maneuvering with a fair share more grace than her ol’ ma did…

Never thought he’d get to watch another adolescent boy move
recklessly from teenager to young man (though, for sure, Emilio makes
this all look easy…)

Guess again, dad!

Lucky for you, I get to do the dirty work—

discipline
cook for
nag
reason with
shop for
clean up after

And you get to, simply, love…

With a laugh or two thrown in for good measure.

civilized, we are

Last Sunday at the dinner table, Eva said to her grandfather, “Your hamburger is upside down.” He smiled and placed it on his plate, carefully turned it the upside way and took another bite.

I’ve noticed that he eats slowly. I don’t know when this happened, or if it has been happening bite by bite these past several years. I don’t have memories of my father being a careful eater. I mean that in the way that I am not a very careful eater. I sometimes eat standing up, I often eat too fast, I don’t chew enough times, and, when at home, I rarely pause to consider the pleasure of the meal.

This has become more apparent to me now that I share the evening meal, several times a week, with my father. He does all of the right things, now, at the dinner table. He is clearly eating less, and when I am finished, lickety-split, right after the two young teens, he is still enjoying the tastes and textures of the meal.

He comments on the menu, how tasty it is, how rather lucky we are to have it.

He lingers and enjoys...this is new for him.

If we don’t watch it, I might have to change my habits to slow down with him.

commandments...that is...

I'm not certain I remember the other nine...and if I could, I'd be sure to have violated at least several of them...for now, this one is etched deep within me--"honor thy father and thy mother."

Last week, my eighty-four-year-old father came to live with me. He needs a place to settle his aging self, and I need to find ways, in my own middle-age, to get wiser.

For now, here we are, in Sacramento California, me, two early teens, and their grandpa.

this adventure is just beginning...