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Dad and the Little Man…..
There’s a bit o’ Irish man in my Pop, mostly German though…..he is 89. The oldest of eight children and was 9 years old in the year of the Crash of 1929….the very same year he lost his Mother after she had given birth to a sibling. Married a gal that he had gone to grade school with who later said that she didn't like him in school. Too bossy....know it all.
Father of three….a son born in ’40, a daughter born in ’42 and the last, an Irish redhead Lass born in 1952. The oldest didn't live to see his Dad grow old, as he drowned when he was almost 3. What sadness must have overpowered the young parents. I have often wondered how they both made it through each day. How DO you raise your head off the pillow in the morning to start each day? Mom always said had she not had a daughter to raise {that would have been my sister, Nola} she wouldn't have wanted to live. Dad said that it was his responsibility to put food in the mouths of his family so he did what he had to do.
He worked hard all his life……even when he retired he continued to run his fix it shop, never saying no to anyway who came to get something repaired. From wood to metal, he could figure out a way to make it work, run, or he would build a new one. His first reaction to a project was always, I don’t think it can be done and then he would turn around and get it done. Whatever was do be done, “Odie” could do it.
So here he is, in the Winter of his life….surrounded by many who love him. As the youngest daughter I had promised both of my parents that I would NOT ever put them in a nursing home. I often said I wouldn't be able to put my head on a pillow at night wondering if Dad was sad and lonely and that I couldn't bare to ever walk away from him or Mom and let someone else take care of them. I told them both that no matter what I had been born with or what may have happened to me growing up, there is no way they would have put ME in an institution.
We lost Mom in 2003….the sadness for me was sometimes unbearable. I wouldn’t just cry, I would weep and sob for my Mom. I would find myself thinking of something to tell her and would think of calling and then realize I couldn’t. That didn’t stop me from mentally telling her anyways. I would go through some of her things she got me and would remember the story she would tell me that was associated with a particular item.
Dad lived independently for 6 years after Mom died. Then the situation changed. He needed help with the checking…..paying bills and although it was hard to give in to the fact that he DID need help, he agreed to accept some assistance. In a short time of less than a year, Dad had round the clock care…..first it was my Daughter, Michelle, who is an RN. She temporarily moved in with her two children and cared for Dad for a couple months. My sister, my great niece and my best girlfriend would help my daughter care for Dad. Michelle would keep a close eye on Dad and knew exactly what he needed and didn't hesitate to get Dad the very best when it was necessary and was on top of the medical decisions made for him.
It may seem to others that it’s a sad time for us…..Dad is nearing the end of his life…..and yes, it does cross my mind that I will be saying goodbye to him in my lifetime. Before he goes though, he will continue to leave us stories for he is quite entertaining in the state of mind he is in.
Dad doesn't have Alzheimer’s….it’s dementia brought on from symptoms like Parkinson’s. He is sometimes “having a good day”, as he says. He rests well, he knows all of us and he doesn't see anyone we don’t see.
Then there ARE the days that are all BUT normal and it’s like reading the most interesting book you have ever had in your life. It may all start so innocently….a simple question is asked and OMG, he is on a roll.
To the Irish Point of the title.....I may have told this story previously but it is worthy of telling once again.
~~My Daughter, Michelle, Dad and I were sitting in Bob Evans restaurant in Logansport, Indiana one day. Dad was doing fine, no dementia so far that day. Dad like Bob Evans so I tried to take him to all the places he liked to go and we stayed far away from fast food.
We had just finished ordering and Dad was staring at the table....he moved the salt, then the pepper and just watched and moved his eyes. I thought at first he saw a bug. Then I got curious and asked him what he was looking at. I had been drinking by Coke and out of his mouth came, "I am looking at that Little Man." I nearly spit my drink across the table at Michelle. I choked. Not the first time either! He didn't say it but I pictured a little green Leprechaun. So I started laughing and Dad was grinning....and Michelle wanted to know where he was....the little man that is. Dad pointed right in the very spot he was standing. Michelle, being the instigator brought her hand up and went straight down on the "little man" who was standing there.
Oh that did it for Dad, he was quite disturbed at her doing that. I was still laughing hard and could barely see what was going on but I saw what she did! Dad says," , Oh look what you did now…. He is dead. Now he can’t feed his family. They will have to go on Welfare….and only get 50% of what he made."
I just could not contain myself after that. I think the whole restaurant was looking. My stomach was hurting by now.....how does he come up with this stuff? It was just hilarious!
That was my Dad in a nutshell....always worrying about the "little guy".~~
There’s a bit o’ Irish man in my Pop, mostly German though…..he is 89. The oldest of eight children and was 9 years old in the year of the Crash of 1929….the very same year he lost his Mother after she had given birth to a sibling. Married a gal that he had gone to grade school with who later said that she didn't like him in school. Too bossy....know it all.
Father of three….a son born in ’40, a daughter born in ’42 and the last, an Irish redhead Lass born in 1952. The oldest didn't live to see his Dad grow old, as he drowned when he was almost 3. What sadness must have overpowered the young parents. I have often wondered how they both made it through each day. How DO you raise your head off the pillow in the morning to start each day? Mom always said had she not had a daughter to raise {that would have been my sister, Nola} she wouldn't have wanted to live. Dad said that it was his responsibility to put food in the mouths of his family so he did what he had to do.
He worked hard all his life……even when he retired he continued to run his fix it shop, never saying no to anyway who came to get something repaired. From wood to metal, he could figure out a way to make it work, run, or he would build a new one. His first reaction to a project was always, I don’t think it can be done and then he would turn around and get it done. Whatever was do be done, “Odie” could do it.
So here he is, in the Winter of his life….surrounded by many who love him. As the youngest daughter I had promised both of my parents that I would NOT ever put them in a nursing home. I often said I wouldn't be able to put my head on a pillow at night wondering if Dad was sad and lonely and that I couldn't bare to ever walk away from him or Mom and let someone else take care of them. I told them both that no matter what I had been born with or what may have happened to me growing up, there is no way they would have put ME in an institution.
We lost Mom in 2003….the sadness for me was sometimes unbearable. I wouldn’t just cry, I would weep and sob for my Mom. I would find myself thinking of something to tell her and would think of calling and then realize I couldn’t. That didn’t stop me from mentally telling her anyways. I would go through some of her things she got me and would remember the story she would tell me that was associated with a particular item.
Dad lived independently for 6 years after Mom died. Then the situation changed. He needed help with the checking…..paying bills and although it was hard to give in to the fact that he DID need help, he agreed to accept some assistance. In a short time of less than a year, Dad had round the clock care…..first it was my Daughter, Michelle, who is an RN. She temporarily moved in with her two children and cared for Dad for a couple months. My sister, my great niece and my best girlfriend would help my daughter care for Dad. Michelle would keep a close eye on Dad and knew exactly what he needed and didn't hesitate to get Dad the very best when it was necessary and was on top of the medical decisions made for him.
It may seem to others that it’s a sad time for us…..Dad is nearing the end of his life…..and yes, it does cross my mind that I will be saying goodbye to him in my lifetime. Before he goes though, he will continue to leave us stories for he is quite entertaining in the state of mind he is in.
Dad doesn't have Alzheimer’s….it’s dementia brought on from symptoms like Parkinson’s. He is sometimes “having a good day”, as he says. He rests well, he knows all of us and he doesn't see anyone we don’t see.
Then there ARE the days that are all BUT normal and it’s like reading the most interesting book you have ever had in your life. It may all start so innocently….a simple question is asked and OMG, he is on a roll.
To the Irish Point of the title.....I may have told this story previously but it is worthy of telling once again.
~~My Daughter, Michelle, Dad and I were sitting in Bob Evans restaurant in Logansport, Indiana one day. Dad was doing fine, no dementia so far that day. Dad like Bob Evans so I tried to take him to all the places he liked to go and we stayed far away from fast food.
We had just finished ordering and Dad was staring at the table....he moved the salt, then the pepper and just watched and moved his eyes. I thought at first he saw a bug. Then I got curious and asked him what he was looking at. I had been drinking by Coke and out of his mouth came, "I am looking at that Little Man." I nearly spit my drink across the table at Michelle. I choked. Not the first time either! He didn't say it but I pictured a little green Leprechaun. So I started laughing and Dad was grinning....and Michelle wanted to know where he was....the little man that is. Dad pointed right in the very spot he was standing. Michelle, being the instigator brought her hand up and went straight down on the "little man" who was standing there.
Oh that did it for Dad, he was quite disturbed at her doing that. I was still laughing hard and could barely see what was going on but I saw what she did! Dad says," , Oh look what you did now…. He is dead. Now he can’t feed his family. They will have to go on Welfare….and only get 50% of what he made."
I just could not contain myself after that. I think the whole restaurant was looking. My stomach was hurting by now.....how does he come up with this stuff? It was just hilarious!
That was my Dad in a nutshell....always worrying about the "little guy".~~
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