Observations on quality time with my 84 year old father, day -11
*My sister said my dad was having problems finding a file that had all of my mother’s pension documents in them. My wife, who cleaned the disaster known as my mother’s desk, is sure of where she put them.
Me – “Dad, look in the bottom left hand section of her desk for a set of pocket folders.”
Dad – “There is no left hand section of her desk.”
Me – “Face the desk dad.”
Dad – “Wait a minute…my pants fell down.”
Am I living in an episode of the Abbott and Costello show?
*He sees conspiracies all round him. “The DA is withholding evidence!” My sense is the only conspiracy is the one his brain is perpetrating on him. But it’s partially true though; his partner robbed from him; his accountant robbed from him…he probably robbed them too. I told him to stop living on the margins. “She’s not ‘non compos mentis’ dad. She’s ‘dead.’” The truth is fluid to some people, but when the truth is so awful, maybe the ones who are creating the alternative reality are the smart ones?
*There was always music in my dad’s store. Among the favorites of the staff, and some customers too, was a collection of Perez Prado, the Cuban Mambo King. Many of the sales staff were Latino: Puerto Rican, Cuban, Dominican, etc. They would fight amongst themselves but always enjoyed Perez Prado. The Chinese salesmen liked it because the Latinos would get so into the music, they’d forget to make sales. More customers for them. I would buy these records in a shop in the Times Square subway station called Record Mart that specialized in Latin music. One day the sales person asked me, “Are you Puerto Rican?” ”No” I said. “But my dad thinks he is.”
© Curt Weiss 2014