Remembering My Dad

Dad,

You were 47 years old when the nurse came out of delivery a little after 5:00 a.m. on March 8, 1956 and upon waking you she said, ‘Mr. Thomas you have a healthy 7lb 1oz baby girl born at 4:55, congratulations." I'm not sure what happened after that I can only imagine but at 47 years old you were considered a bit old at that time to be a father. People always thought you were my grandfather and as I got older I can remember how much it royally pissed me off. You used to laugh it off. It's as if you had two lives, one where you were the perennial bachelor in Parkville and everyone knew you would never marry. Until my mother came along that is...and then I did.

I can remember being very small with long blonde curly hair and blue eyes asking you if I could ride with you in the old truck to go ‘downtown' which meant the town of Parkville. I always felt so special when you said yes and we'd climb into the old 1930's Ford truck. The one with the squeaky doors, the cantankerous windows, the protesting clutch and the musty smell of dry rot as we bounced merrily from home to Parkville to visit Vawters drugstore where we'd get a cold soda at the big marble counter with the huge mirror behind it.
Later you'd teach me how to ride a bike, I remember the fear as I said, ‘Daddy promise you won't let go' when we took the training wheels off. We did that over and over again until I yelled, ‘Go ahead and let go now Daddy' and I was shaky but soon I was riding straight and strong. That was the beginning of a favorite pasttime of mine. Riding the backroads and sometimes letting go of the handle bars putting out my arms, closing my eyes and pretending I was flying. You'd of died on the spot had you known I did that. I loved it so much you found me sleep walking taking my bike out of the garage to go riding. Wow, what a scary thought for a parent!

I remember watching you go through your ritual of shaving every morning as I stood in the doorway of the bathroom running my mouth, which was alwayws running, and watcing you shave with your electric razor..It seemed to be something that was soothing to you as you closed your eyes and used your hands to guide the razor over all the spots that still had whiskers. You seemed transported to some other world. It was hypnotic to just watch you and eventually I did shut my mouth and just watch.

I'm sure mom got tired of hearing me ask, ‘Mom where's dad?' and since your business was at the house it wasn't an illogical question. You were always coming and going. So were lots of people. Our house was never quiet without someone dropping by. Maybe that's why to this day I do not like ‘drop ins' at my home. Then it was just a fact of life.

When I turned 16 you taught me to drive in the HS football field. Being too short to see over the steering wheel I can remember sitting on two telephone books to see over the dash. ‘Now when I say stop, I expect you to do it, ok? We'll start in circles until you get the feel of the car.' I was nervous as I started out driving and when you said, ‘Now stop!' I made the mistake of slamming on the brakes. Fortunately you only spilt your coffee and we weren't in your work car with all those little drawers of fittings in the back just ready to go flying out. Yea I had heard the stories of you teaching mom how to drive and I sure didn't want that to happen to me. You spilt your coffee on your pants and we called it a night. But eventually we moved to gravel roads and then to the highway. Then it didn't stop there you taught me how to look under the hood during car trouble and try to trouble shoot what might be wrong. I also had to learn to change a tire if needed. All of which did come in handy in the years to come. Then driving my car became a favorite pasttime replacing my bike. You gave me a gas card and I was set. Fortunately gas was cheap back then because I drove a lot....and many times during the cold, cold winters you'd come to the high school to rescue me when I couldn't get the car going on my own.

I was scared when I brought the boy I would later marry, home to meet you but you were gracious and welcoming. I thought you might run him off but you didn't. In fact he became one of the family right away and was there more than he was at his own home.

And when HS graduation finally came around and I walked into the gym you spotted me and told that boy, ‘Look at her, isn't she an aristocatic creature? The way she walks and talks, she's amazing.' I only learned of that comment later...I never knew you thought that about me.

And when it came time to marry that boy I walked up to you and took your arm, ready to walk down the aisle and you said, ‘My God honey you look so beautiful!' And I remember telling you, ‘Just shut up dad or I'll cry, which will make my eyelashes fall off.' You know I still feel guilty about that? But finally the song that was our cue came and you walked me down the aisle holdingmy hand tight. When we reached the altar and the preacher asked, ‘Who gives this woman your voice broke when you answered." Then you very reluctantly placed my hand in his.

Next came your grand kids. And oh the stories of what went on in the waiting room between relatives and friends for that first child of ours! We had it packed that night. I remember being afraid to tell you I was pregnant and as I sat there in fear you came over to hug me and congratulate me. It never got any easier to tell you with the next two either...and I have to smile at that. The greatest compliment you ever gave me was to tell me I was an excellent mother. Coming from you that was a Big Deal.

The years went by and when we made our move to leave Parkville and move 100 miles away you came to be there. There were tears in your eyes as you said, ‘This is your big move honey, the beginning of a new life.' I didn't want to leave but knew I had to.

The years went by and the kids grew up, but because you were already middle aged when I was born you grew old long before anyone else's parents my age did. You became sick and I moved down to live with you the summer of ‘95 while you were on Hospice. We had many soul searching conversations, you and I. But being the man who was alway wanting to ‘take care of me' you fought death. I remember telling you, ‘It's okay to leave dad. I'll be fine. You taught me well.' You looked at me and asked me, ‘Do you really think there is something after this life?' I told you I really did think that and you'd be so happy once you got there. One morning you said, ‘Will you come lay next to me?' I remember being so exhausted and only wanting to go to bed and sleep. I said,'Don't think there's not room enough my my body dad?' And as painful as it was for you to shift your position becasue of the cancer in your spine you made room. I crawled up beside you and as l lay down, you asked for my arm and I laid it over your chest and you wrapped your hands and arms around it and held on tight and stared at the wall. When I awoke later you were still holding on tightly and staring off into space. A day or so later you went into a coma. When the time came that you were in the throes of dying it was my wedding anniverary. That day I told my sister, ‘Oh God he's going to die on my anniversary.' That night when you took your last breath it was peaceful. You just took it and I knew it was your last as the breath left your body and your head rolled to the side. I automatically looked at the clock and it was 12:05 on Sept. 1st. I pointed to the clock and said, ‘Look, he's given me one last gift, he didn't die on my anniversary.'

You were given a firemans funeral with all the pomp and circumstance that goes with something like that. You were given quite a farwell.

But in the years that have gone by since I have come to realize that a lot of your philosophy you used to tell me (and I rolled my eyes at) is actually quite true. In fact, I'm sure you know that I have opened my mouth to speak and a Clydeism will come rolling out and I think, ‘Oh My God, did I just say that? Well damnit, it's true!' I still miss our conversations, even the ones where I was thinking, ‘Oh boy here we go again....' Sometimes I wonder, ‘What would dad think or do?' and all I have to do is ask myself, ‘Well Donna what would he say?' and it comes to me unbidden.

But the time you bought me a Word Processor and told me, ‘Write Donna you have talent. I love reading what you write.' I was mystified and thought, "yes but dad you are prejudiced just a wee bit'. After your death while cleaning your room there was a battered old notebook that had a note paperclipped to it with a fairly large clip so the note wouldn't be lost it said three words,'Give To Donna' and inside was all the famiy history you could remember over the years all stuffed into this book because you wanted me to ‘do something with it'. When I look at the book today I am saddened to see the ink is fading and one day I opened it and to my horror found the ink was fading from the papers too. I quickly copied everything on the Xerox machine. Now you are all gone, the sisters, mom and you along with many other relatives. In fact, we are now at the top as the oldest generation. I look at myself and think better get busy and make dad proud you're no spring chicken anymore. Even though you lived to be 86 years old I think you kept going because you needed to, to be there for those around you. I look in the mirror and think, ‘Tomorrow isn't promised to us' but it doesn't motivate me.' I imagine by now you know of all the times I just invited something to happen to me. Like the time I took my car out on a hilly road, blared the music and drove it doing over 90 mph. A road where so many people have lost there lives. But was there a car or truck or anything on the road that day? Nope not a one. I went over 30 miles to my destination and back again. I imagine you are usually watching during those low times when I actually do something stupid like that.

Yep I have a feeling I'm not getting out of this alive..after all you didn't. But you had done so many notable things in your life that you are remembered for. To many people you were many things but to me you were the first most important man in my life from that night the nurse announced my arrival and I miss you often. So this is a Happy Birthday wish to you dad. You were born on this day 102 years ago. As long as I'm able to remember it I always acknowledge it in some way.

Love and miss you dad, more than you know...

Clyde R. Thomas January 27, 1909-September 1, 1995 Born in Waldo, Ks. Died in Parkville, Mo at his home with his loving daughters by his side.

An Impromptu Move

Well the father-in-law that fell down his steps and remained there for 27 hours until we found him back in January is finally moving here to our hometown to an assisted living facility. We will be picking him up from his current skilled nursing facility on Friday the 13th. Now, being the somewhat pessimistic person that I am, and having had other questionable experiences on Friday the 13th's I have to wonder what will happen to screw this whole thing up. Not to mention that everywhere I seem to look I keep seeing 666. What's up with that?

But we decided to make it a bit easier on him and go down today to bring back his furniture that he has decided he will want in his new assisted living apartment. Without him being along. Which isn't much because they are small. But enough that we need to break it up over a few days. Since it will just be my husband and I we need to make it as easy as possible on us and him. We rented a covered trailer this morning because it was pouring down rain and by early afternoon we had it hooked to our Dodge Ram and towing it to Liberty. We were reminded fairly quickly why we don't tow large trailers anymore. It was causing the transmission to overheat so frequent stops to cool it off became necessary. And now that it's over we think the transmission has been compromised.

We loaded his bed, his chest of drawers, a night stand, a love seat, his favorite recliner and last but definitely the worst, his giant, big screened TV. Which I helped get the majority of this out the door and into the trailer. And I'm an old woman with a bad back. However my husband knows ways to help make it a bit easier but when it was all said and done and we were headed back home I still felt like I had died, or wished I had died. Oye! The agony...

When we pick him up on Friday we'll go back to the house and spend the night. Since it may be the last time he'll ever be in that house I'll have to use the opportunity to question him about different items in the house and query on their worth or lack thereof. That should take all evening since he can barely get up the stairs with a walker. I think we'll start on ground level, set him down and begin the story. When that level is done, we'll move on up. I'm expecting him to be sentimental and weepy because that's the way he's been since he fell. Hell I really don't know what to expect anymore. The man has totally proven me wrong on everything I said about him.

When he was half dead the day we found him, at the ER when they said most of his organs had shut down I said, "Hell he won't make it through the night." He did and I said, 'Hell he'll never leave the hospital." He did and went to a nursing home. He wasn't able to walk or get out of bed so I figured he'd be wheel chair bound. No again. He's up walking with a walker. Sometimes I think the fire that fuels him is his fear of what we might be doing to his house or his cars. It's that control factor. I'd be hard pressed to give it up myself. I guess I'll quit trying to predict what will happen to him. He's one tough ole bird. Although he has announced he wants to renew his drivers license so he can get out and drive. Now THAT must be stopped at all costs. He'll kill somebody else if he takes two tons of moving metal out and drives it. I'll have to figure out a way to sabotage that.

One Down....5 More To Go!

Yesterday this semester ended and I actually made it! I had my doubts about getting the last of the assignments in, but I persevered and sure enough..they got in. So it's one semester down and 5 more to go to a Bachelor's Degree. And..maybe not even 5, maybe only four, it depends on rescuing 3 lousy little credits from another school. But I'll do it, even if they are holding them hostage for $50. Which I might add is a rip-off from them, but that's another story I'm not getting into here. At least, not right now. I don't want to spoil my mood, which is good. And, trust me, we want to keep those good moods going in me.

Maybe I'll just update from other posts here since I'm not feeling anything witty or biting to write about. The nursing home saga I started here at the beginning of March is coming to a close, well at least the first chapter of it. Harold's been in a skilled facility having physical therapy every day to help him learn to walk with a walker. And he's a tough old bird. He continually proves me wrong. When he ended up in ER after falling down steps and lying there for 27 hours I thought he'd die in the hospital. He was the closest thing to death imaginable. Everything was giving out and he had that bone cancer to boot. So a couple of doses of chemo and dear old Humana made him leave the hospital because he was 'improving'. Off he went to the only nursing home they'd pay for, which was a hole and within three days they managed to tear down two weeks worth of fixing. Back to the hospital. Then to a skilled nursing facility which is where he's been for awhile now. I never thought he'd ever walk again.

I'll be damned! Then one day he was up walking with the assistance of a walker. Weeks worth of physical therapy actually paid off. The verdict came down: he's getting better so let's kick him out. So, now the assisted living facility. That would be up here where we live. Which is good, not so much city running. But, that means moving some of his home furniture to a small apartment here in a nursing home. April 13th has been deemed the day he must leave. Hmm....Jeez what a day to be doing something like that!

Last week the doctors discovered my mom has lung cancer. That was a diagnosis out of nowhere I didn't think would happen. Sort of like getting slapped with a giant invisible hand across the face when you least expected it. I have no idea where that will go, but I had two sisters die from lung cancer. It was awful to watch. I'm not looking forward to that again. But....that was 14 years ago I think they've improved treatments. And since I always see the glass half empty I'm expecting the worst.

Uhmm....Oh! I am so vindicated on this mouse saga! Again we smelled rotting little bodies only this time they were in the basement. Dear hubby goes down to search for them, only to find a nest of mom and her babies all curled up dead. In a way it was kind of sad, in another I'm friggin' happy about it because of all their mess they left behind. Little shits! So guess what he found in the nest with them? The DCon sacks! Remember I told you he laughed at me when I thought they took the bag too? Uhuh....well....they DID take the bags!! Two of them to be exact, right there in mom's little mouse home. I wanted to be all smug. I wanted to strut around the house with my chest puffed out. Men...they think they know EVERYTHING! But did I point that out to him?? No I kept my mouth shut and was all smug inside my brain. Damnit!

Maggie has been sick lately. I was relieved when the announcement of the tainted pet foods didn't include hers. Then they came out with the brand I was feeding her, Alpo. But..it was the food in gravy, which isn't what they get fed. That's when the puking started. I immediately threw it all away. Why take chances? Hell, that could be tainted too they just don't know it yet. I started cooking for them instead. She was still a little Puke Monster for a week. Finally I went to our vet and was telling him about it. He asked, "Well did you change foods?"

"Well yes, I started cooking for her but she's still sick."

He looks thoughtful, "What are you cooking for her?"

"Well, ground beef, peas, diced potatoes in mushroom sauce."

He's nodding his head and says, "How much did you make?"

"Oh I made a whole pot full to last, why?"

"Sounds delicious, do you have any left?"

I laughed at him. I told him I did but yesterday they got some of the Easter dinner.

He perks up, 'What was that?"

"Spiral cut ham with honey spiced glaze, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, rolls, sweet potatoes, why?"

Shakes his head practically in tears...."Damn, I wish I ate that good!"

What a funny man. I did ask him what dog food I would be safe giving and he told me he wouldn't use any of them right now. The lists change so fast he can't even keep up with them. "Keep cooking for them, it's safer." Isn't that a helluva note? You can't trust anybody anymore. Today it's dogs and cats with tainted food. How long before it's our food? What is the PROBLEM people??? At this rate my dogs will NEVER go back to dog food even if it's good in the future. Why should they? I'm cooking them homemade meals!