My Dad Still Has His Sense of Humor
It doesn't appear often, but when a little glimmer of it does show up, we love it.
I'm in Indiana again. Here are a couple of examples.
Dad: Candy, where do you live?
Candy: You know where I live.
Dad: No I don't.
Candy: Take a guess.
Dad: Phoenix.
Candy: That's right.
Dad: Then what are you doing here?
Candy: I'm visiting you. Are you enjoying my visit?
Dad: Oh yes. Immensely.
And my favorite from this trip so far happened when my sister and I were trying to convince Dad to go get on his exercise bike. It's not exactly a bike anymore. He was too wobbly for it, so we've removed the seat and put a straight-backed chair behind the pedals. The goal is to get him to pedal for ten minutes. He doesn't have to pedal fast, he just has to keep going, no matter how slow. We're trying hard to keep his legs working, because he can barely get around even with a walker. And when he stops being mobile, he stops being able to live at home. It is a constant battle.
Candy: Dad, it's time to get on your bike.
Dad: How come?
Candy: To exercise your legs.
Dad: Don't need to.
Candy: Yes you do.
Dad: How come?
Candy: Because if you don't, you won't be able to walk anymore.
Dad: Oh bullshit.
Candy: OK. You have a choice. You can either go get on that bike and ride it, or I can ram a hot poker up your ass. Which do you want?
Dad: Oh, either one. It doesn't make any difference.
I'm in Indiana again. Here are a couple of examples.
Dad: Candy, where do you live?
Candy: You know where I live.
Dad: No I don't.
Candy: Take a guess.
Dad: Phoenix.
Candy: That's right.
Dad: Then what are you doing here?
Candy: I'm visiting you. Are you enjoying my visit?
Dad: Oh yes. Immensely.
And my favorite from this trip so far happened when my sister and I were trying to convince Dad to go get on his exercise bike. It's not exactly a bike anymore. He was too wobbly for it, so we've removed the seat and put a straight-backed chair behind the pedals. The goal is to get him to pedal for ten minutes. He doesn't have to pedal fast, he just has to keep going, no matter how slow. We're trying hard to keep his legs working, because he can barely get around even with a walker. And when he stops being mobile, he stops being able to live at home. It is a constant battle.
Candy: Dad, it's time to get on your bike.
Dad: How come?
Candy: To exercise your legs.
Dad: Don't need to.
Candy: Yes you do.
Dad: How come?
Candy: Because if you don't, you won't be able to walk anymore.
Dad: Oh bullshit.
Candy: OK. You have a choice. You can either go get on that bike and ride it, or I can ram a hot poker up your ass. Which do you want?
Dad: Oh, either one. It doesn't make any difference.
posted by Candy Rant @ 8:17 PM
3 Comments:
At 7:11 AM,
Jerry said…
Like most of us, your dad probably feels like he's gonna get the hot poker sooner or later--no matter what he does or doesn't do. It's kind of a deterministic-pessimism thingy that says, "No matter how tranquil your life is and no matter how comfortable you feel, the hot poker of fate awaits us all.
That reminds me of something my mother said when she was losing her cognitive faculties; she said, "tell your daddy to come in her." I said momma, daddies been dead for 20 years. "I don't care what he's doing; I want him to come in her right now."
At 9:01 AM,
Dana said…
I see where you get your brilliant humor from...
Laughter is a healing balm for your heart.
At 1:42 PM,
Tony from the Bronx said…
Don't tell me your father is out of it--the two comebacks are perfect! Take a good look at his eyes--sly twinkle, right? Loves teasing his brilliant daughter.
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