An Open Apology to The Dad

               Throughout my childhood and even into adulthood, there were preferences The Dad had that I found annoying or ridiculous.  It sometimes seemed he was trying his best to be difficult with the specificity of his demands.  Requests such as extra ice in his tea, pockets on all his shirts, the eternal search for biscuits “as good as your mama’s” and irrational cravings for Zagnut candy bars, which I didn’t even realize they still manufactured.

                Now that I am sneaking up on 47 like I’m a ninja, I understand what he was talking about.  Over the last year, I have noticed that I order extra ice in my tea because it’s usually not cold enough.  Iced tea should mean just that; iced.  I have never ordered lukewarm tea.  I don’t think anyone has other than Amy Farrah Fowler in her inaugural appearance in Big Bang Theory, and, if memory serves, she asked for “tepid water”.  God doesn’t even like lukewarm things, like that Bible verse tells us so our preference is, at least, religious in nature.

I also celebrate when I find French-cuff dress shirts or polos with a pocket.  Now, I don’t store crochet needles, reading glasses and false teeth in my shirt pocket like The Dad does, but I do like to have a place to put my phone or writing implement when I need to use both hands.  You’d be surprised how often you need to use both hands.  At least I was surprised.  I also place my glasses there when I am outside and forced to wear my prescription sunglasses because my pupils are too large and my eye color too light according to my eye doctor.  I don’t want to be “blind when (you’re) old, Dustin” so I adhere to her suggestion of sunglasses when outdoors.  I really do wish someone would hurry up and invent tinted, air-conditioned tubes for transporting people to and from important places like the bakery or TJ Maxx.

The Dad also distrusts automatic withdrawals for bill payment and depositing checks via cell phone.  I’m okay with automatic withdrawals as I have only been burned once in 20 years with a double-charge, but I do not like the depositing check via phone.  I received a large check recently and went to the bank to deposit it in person.  The teller asked if the ATM wasn’t working.  When I told her it was fine, I just felt more secure depositing it in person, she looked at me with that mixture of condescension and pity, not unlike the look you give people who can’t operate a revolving door.  I wanted to protest her attitude but realized that would only confirm my “old man-ness” to her and I was already behind schedule for my trip to Starbucks and the thrift store, because it was Saturday and that’s what I do on Saturdays.

I will never find a biscuit as delicious as my mother’s but I, too, find myself ordering them when available and enjoying the treat much less than I should because they don’t measure up.  I should simply be happy I found a biscuit in the land of the gluten-free, vegan hippie bakers.

I don’t crave Zagnuts, but I do crave Oh, Henry’s and they are just as difficult to locate, although I have found a cute little boutique candy store which sells both and I treat us to one every couple of months.  Mine, I start eating on the way home; his I mail in his ‘happy box’ as soon as I have procured four or five books I think he might like to justify mailing something other than a candy bar.  A happy box from Uncle Dusty is one of the perks of being related to me.  Reading and puzzles is what has kept him sharp and ornery, so it’s good for him but not so great for the dynamic duo of my brother and sister-in-law, who have been housing him for the last year.  Their crowns will be large in Heaven, which I hope is a comfort to them.

The last thing I noticed is something which might surprise people.  My father and I are both introverts.  I am an extroverted introvert; he is simply an introvert.  I have no problem talking to people but as I’ve gotten older, it tires me much more quickly and I find myself, like him, with the overwhelming desire to be left alone (except Ben and/or my sister) but still privy to all information concerning available activities or outings should I decide I want to participate.  It’s an odd thing to try to explain.  Suffice it to say, I get it now.

So, I apologize, Old Man.  I thought you were just old and crazy when I was younger.  Now I realize you were simply requesting things you felt made sense because they made sense to you.  Now that I am older,  I am right there with you.  To say you are crazy would be to admit I have crazy tendencies and we are not getting into that discussion right now. 

For those who don't know, Ben’s native language is Cebuano, as his family is from the Philippines.  He has been teaching me random words and phrases.  One of the first words he taught me is buang.  Full disclosure, buang means crazy.  It’s a coincidence, right?