Breaking Bread

2006

Last week the welcoming committee from the Living Water Church brought my father some home made bread and grape jam. They rang the door bell and the dogs went crazy. Every time the door bell rings the dogs go into a running and barking frenzee. It is usually impossible for me to open the door with out them escaping and frightening the life out of the visitor. Needless to say I was unable to coral the dogs, so I went out through the garage and met up with the couple as they were walking back to their car in the driveway. A husband and wife team. Very nice people. In fact they had already been to our house once, when Lee first moved in. They also greeted him with bread and jam. I remember Lee saying that they were very welcoming and friendly. He visited with them for quite a while and they were helpful with questions that he had about the area. They ask how my husband is doing and they ask about Ray Mopkis, who is also listed at this address. I tell them that my father is now living with us. I am uncomfortable inviting them in, because I am never sure how my father will respond. I explain that my father is elderly and in the middle of dinner, but they can come back at a different time. They leave the bread and jam along with a letter inviting him to church.

I go back in the house and hand my father the letter. I leave the bread and jam on the counter. I tell him that people from the church down the street have invited him to church. It is the church with the pond in front. My father has never been a church going person. He has no use for praying, and no need of God because he can take care of himself. My mother was quite active in the church when she was alive and tried for years to get my father to go to church with her. He would always snicker and say "There's no God damn parking there Cris, how the hell do you expect me do drive my car up there and get stuck waiting for those women to stop gabbing and get the hell out of the way so I can leave!?" We also invite him to church with us every week but he is always too busy. I expect him to throw the letter in the garbage without even reading it. To my surprise, he reads the letter. He has some bread and jam. He says they really know how to make a good loaf of bread.

When Lee gets home from work my father pulls the letter out of his shirt pocket and hands it to him. "Read this. These people want ME to come to their church. They sure make good bread." Lee reads the letter and tells Dad that he has met the greeters before and they are nice people. Dad wants to know if they invited Lee to their church and if he got any of the bread. Lee tells him yes. My father carries the letter with him every day. It has earned a spot in his shirt breast pocket where he carries his most valued possessions. (Usually his valium and a flashlight) At least once a day he removes it, carefully unfolds it and reads it from beginning to end. When he is finished he places it tenderly back in the envelope and back into his shirt pocket.

I am scheduled to pick up some furniture on Sunday morning and ask my father if we can use his truck. He says he doesn't think so because he is going to church. I tell him that we can drop him off, or he could go to a different service, perhaps the early service. He says he doesn't think so. This is a man who has never willingly attended a church service in his life and suddenly it is incredibly important that he attend THIS Sunday at the same time we need to use his vehicle. I cook all his meals, wash all his laundry, clean his apartment, and he will not let me use his truck for one hour. I talk to my husband and he says he will take care of it.

I sit and think about the situation. Maybe this is the Lord's work here. Maybe this will be the best thing that ever happened to my father. Suddenly I am guilt ridden. I have been entirely selfish. This may be my father's salvation! What kind of person have I turned into? I am filled with shame and say a small prayer to ask for forgiveness. I tell my father that I think it is wonderful that he wants to go to church. I tell him that I will schedule another day to pick up the furniture, what ever day is best for him. He says "Good, because I don't want to go another week without that bread, you think they got some more over there?" I leave the room speechless.

Lee convinces my father to let us use his truck. Dad wasn't upset. He was thrilled at going along for the ride. He tried to hit on the woman we bought the furniture from. She is a young woman, a Delta pilot who was recently divorced. As she is telling us her current situation my father interrupts and asks, "Hey you wanna go out to dinner sometime?" She smiles at me and politely declines. When we are ready to leave, he picks her up off the floor and hugs her goodbye. Naturally I have to pull him away from her and then apologize for his behavior. Fortunately she is not offended.

The following Sunday after breakfast Dad is headed out the door for church. It is 9:00 am. I am sure he will be back within thirty minutes. To my surprise he isn't. At 10:15 he comes flying through the door. I ask him how church was. "Well I park right in front so I don't have to walk too far. They got good parking there too, special spots for visitors. I go in and there's only about two or three women. They call that singing? Jesus these people can't carry a tune! But I sit there and I listen, then a few more come in and they try singin. It is awful!! They don't stop! So I try askin them what time it is, so they will stop that singing, but they just smile and keep right on! I sat there as long as I could take it. Finally I say - to hell with this, I don't see any bread around, I'm leaving! When I leave there is a good looking woman walking in. I mean with the make up and everything - I think it was Sammy Day!" I look at my father, Lee is in the other room smiling. "Sammy Day? Dad, who is Sammy Day?" "Oh you know that Baker woman Sammy Day Baker!" I look at him, "You mean Tammy Faye?" "Yeah what ever her name is. Anyway, I got no bread."

The Ring -er Fire

2007


It's after dinner time and Dad and I are sitting in the sun room having coffee. Jay is sitting with us working on his book report which is due in a few days. Dad is sitting quietly and Jay is asking questions and editing his work out loud. Of course Dad can't hear all that well (also could care less who is talking) and he interrupts with "Yeah so what are these IPAD things the kids got? I know I helped pay for some for the kids, are they like records or music or something?" I tell Jay to go get his Ipod so PaPa can see it. Jay puts his work aside and leaves the room.

When he returns he has the Ipod and he says "PaPa put these things in your ears and listen." He hands Dad the earphones and puts the Ipod down next to him. Dad puts the earphones in and his eyes get real big. Jay is smiling. I ask him "What music is playing now?" Jay says "Johnny Cash." Before we know it Dad is stomping his foot and snapping his fingers. He starts singing at the top of his lungs "I fell in to the burnin ring-er fire - I went down down down but the flames went higher, and it burns burns burns.........the ring-er fire, the ring-er fire......."

Jay is in hysterics and so am I. Dad is having the time of his life. He starts playing air guitar and continues singing. There are a total of six Johnny Cash songs on the Ipod and Dad puts on a rockin' show for a good twenty minutes or so. It's times like these when I just want to go over and give him a big hug. He looks so darn cute. He's singing as if no one can hear him, without any reservation at all. I don't think he's given any thought to what he sounds like or looks like. He's just having a good time. It's nice to see him happy and enjoying himself. We preserve the moment with a picture on the digital camera. "Dad, hold up the Ipod!" He poses holding the Ipod upside down - hey who cares, it's a good time! When he is done he says he wants to buy one for himself. He makes a point of saying he wants the "Margariter - ville" song on it too! (Dad just loves Jimmy Buffet)

The next afternoon Dad is sitting in my living room chair watching me do house work. (Which is one of his favorite activities) I typically find this irritating, because he is perfectly capable of performing household chores. However he prefers to watch me work or fall asleep in the room I'm cleaning. Over the last few months I've been telling him that he needs to help out. The first time I did this he complained, then did the task, and stayed in his apartment for three days. He only emerged at meal times and then quickly disappeared. As he is watching me work I tell him, "You haven't cleaned your bathroom this week, so maybe you can get that done." He sighs. "Dad what's the matter, do you have big plans?" He slowly says, "I've been sick for days. I just don't say nothin." So I prod further "Dad you're sick? What's the matter?" He sadly explains "I dunno, I just been sick since I listened to that Ipod yesterday. The Ipod made me sick."

You're In the Army Now!

2007

Dad has emerged from his apartment this morning, deliberately moving very slow. He shuffles, stops, looks at me. "Good Morning Dad." He sighs, "Mornin." He shuffles a little further and looks at me again. I smile. He sighs. He shuffles all the way to the counter. I know he is looking for some attention. I'm kind of curious how long the show will go on. I drink my coffee and sit on the couch to check my email. I can hear him sighing loudly for my benefit. He stretches to get his cereal bowl, "AHHHHHHH." This is followed by an exaggerated sigh.

I know if I don't say something the show will intensify and could possibly end with a collapse to the floor. I put my coffee down and head over to the kitchen. He stares at me and then winces in pain. "Gee Dad, what's up? You're not lookin too good this morning. Didn't you sleep well?" He shakes his head, "Na I slept all right. I guess I just can't work out like I used to. I've hurt my back."

My father is not in great physical shape. He avoids any type of work at all costs. It wouldn't be fair if I used the word "lazy" however that word comes to my mind often. It's taken us months of training to get him to even take his garbage out to the dumpster. The dumpster is located right outside the garage door. However, he has preferred to just heave his garbage onto the garage floor and then let someone else pick it up. We're not quite sure why he has thought this acceptable. As I've said, with patience and training we have broke him of this habit. His idea of going for a walk is checking the mail. The mail box is at the end of the drive way. He'll go for his "walk" beginning at 2:00 pm everyday. The mail is his mission. If it's not there at 2:00, he'll continue to check it until it comes, usually every forty five minutes or so. Of course there are the odd days when he forgets that he has just checked the mail, and then he is in and out of the front door every ten minutes. These are the afternoons that completely wipe him out.

Now my father wants me to believe that he "works out"? Of course I'm always open for amusement, so I ask "Wow Dad I had no idea you work out! How long have you been doing this?" He smiles, "Oh for months, probably years. Yup, I keep myself fit. I do the old army exercises I learned at camp. Keep myself 'army fit'!" I ask, "Exactly what does this mean? How long does it take you? What type of exercises do you do?" He puts his cereal bowl down and stands in the middle of the kitchen floor. Hands down at his side. He smiles "Watch this!" He lifts his arms out like an airplane, eyes shift from side to side (checking for clearance I guess) then his arms are lifted up above his head, "ONE!" He repeats, hands down at his side and out like an airplane, again looking from side to side, checking for clearance, then up above his head, "TWO!" He is smiling, "Yup I do them all. I work out every mornin' for about an hour, push ups, everything except run the mile. Yeah, I gotta give it up, I'm gettin old."

Just the other day during a routine doctor's appointment, while we were waiting for the doctor, he tried to tell me he runs around the block. When I told him that I had never seen him do that, he looked up at the ceiling, squinted his eyes and said, "Yeah, huh, I guess I don't." So I'm not so sure that I should bother telling him he doesn't do army exercises. What's the point? So instead I say, "Yeah Dad, it's a good idea not to exert yourself too much." After he has his breakfast, he is up and moving just fine. Sometimes a little attention goes a long way.

Uncle Fester

They’re creepy and they're kooky,
Mysterious and spooky,
They’re all together ooky,
The Thomas Family.

Their house is a museum.
When people come to see 'em
They really are a screa-um.
The Thomas Family.

Neat

Sweet

Petite

So get a witch's shawl on.
A broomstick you can crawl on.

We're gonna pay a call on
The Thomas Family. . .

Dad had a small patch of skin cancer on his nose a few years ago. He had some surgery done. You would never know it. The doctor did a wonderful job. To add to his vanity issues he has since become obsessed with the condition of his skin. Specifically his face, neck skin, hands and arms. All skin that is exposed to the eyes of the public, is under careful scrutiny. He is always talking about having plastic surgery with the dermatologist. On more than one occasion the nurse gave him the name of doctors in the area that perform plastic surgery. I conveniently "misplaced" the referrals.

Last month at his regular skin check appointment, the doctor found some precancerous cells on top of his head, which she treated. When asked if he wears sunscreen when he is outside he replied "No." The doctor explained the importance of this. Dad nodded and smiled. When we discuss actually using the sunscreen, he ignores me stating that his head and face need the sun to look good.

Yesterday Dad stomped up the stairs from his apartment, flew threw the door and rushed to the chair next to me. He put his face in mine. The two of us nose to nose and he exclaimed "I'VE GOT FESTA'S ON MY NOSE!" I backed up a bit to get my eyes in focus. I looked at his nose and there sat two small pimples. I told him "Yes dad, I think you'll be fine." He sat in the chair for twenty minutes or so running his fingers over his nose sighing and shaking his head.

This morning after his one man band performance, he came into the family room. He stood in front of the television and pointed to the end of his nose with his middle finger, "I've got festa's. I guess I gotta see that skin doctor. I don't know what else to do. I got them right here on my nose." I then, in turn pointed to my nose with my middle finger and said "Right there dad? You have fester's?" He replies, "Yup, I got festa's!" (If anyone walked into the room right now they would see us flipping each other off!)

I guess I'll take Uncle Fester to the doctor some time next week.

Another Use of the Middle Finger

It's time for Dad's six month check up at the doctor's. Dad is up extra early worried that he could possibly miss the appointment. I tell him to take his time, that his appointment isn't until 9:00 and we will leave at 8:45. I get home from dropping Jay off at school around 8:15 and Dad is sitting at the table tapping his fingers. "Is it time now?" he asks. "No, not yet. We'll leave in a half hour or so." Dad goes into the living room and sits on the couch and sighs. He puts his head back and closes his eyes. I go about my business picking up the dishes and get myself a cup of coffee.

Ten minutes later Dad comes back into the kitchen and sits at the table. He explains "I didn't sleep good all night. I'm nervous. I hate these appointments. Tony (Dr Scap his previous doctor) would always let me slide. But I know I'll get it today!" I try and calm him down "Dad this is only a quick appointment for the doctor to talk to you about your medication. He wants to make sure that the memory medication is working for you. We go and see him about every six months." Dad looks at me and says "I hate going because I get this!" He then sticks up his middle finger and says "YUP I get the finger right up there, and I always get the ones with the fat fingers!" I want to burst out laughing as I watch him mimic a prostate exam with his middle finger. I just can't help myself and I instinctively stick up my middle finger and wave it at my father "Dad you're not going to get this today!" I'm laughing hysterically and Dad looks at me and says "REALLY?? Oh I think I will! When I was a kid if someone tried sticking their finger up my ass I would have killed them and gone to jail. Now-a-days they think they gotta do that to people." Once we are done with our middle finger exercises we get ready and leave for the doctor's office.

During our drive Dad continues on with stories about various doctors and physical exams. He got so detailed with his descriptions that I had to ask him to please stop. My father has lost his understanding that I am his daughter. I try to explain to him that the conversation makes me uncomfortable because he is my father and there are some things that you don't discuss with your daughter. I tell him that some things are private and that if he has concerns he can talk with the doctor about how he feels. Dad says he is sorry and "I know you just don't understand too many things. It's OK." Of course this makes me want to wring his neck, but at least he will stop with the penis and prostate exam stories. As I see it, this is a small price to pay.

As we pull into the parking space Dad releases his seat belt and opens the car door. I grab his arm and yell "WAIT WAIT!!" I see him look out the door and watch the ground move beneath. I stop, put the car in park and turn off the key. "Dad, it is very dangerous for you to take your seat belt off while the car is still moving. It is even more dangerous for you to open the car door while the car is still moving. If you were to put your foot out the door, I could run you over!" He ignores me and finishes getting out of the car. We go into the doctor's office and sign in then have a seat. I'm still a bit upset so I ask him "Dad do you realize that getting out of a car while it is still moving might cause you to get hurt?" He laughs, "NA, you can't hurt me. I'm spider man." These are the times I am not sure if he is serious or he is just screwing with me. "Dad, you are NOT spider man. You are Ray Mopkis who is human just like the rest of us. If you fall out of the car you will get squashed just like anyone else. Please do not do that again." Once again he chuckles "Yeah, OK. Pammy (his niece) used to yell at me about that too. You're just like her!"

Dad has his medication review. As always he tells the nurse that he doesn't eat. She sneaks me a quick wink, she is always amused by my father. At his first appointment he had asked her if she wanted to go out on a date, "To hell with your husband!" he said. She thought he was being cute, but he was completely serious. Then we see the doctor and he approves his medication refills and tells dad that he is looking very good.

On the way home Dad is fairly quiet and he stares out the window shaking his head. After ten minutes he announces "THAT doctor ain't no good. He doesn't know nothin about doctor'in." I tell dad that I think Dr Andrews has done a great job. Dad says "You don't know nothin' about this stuff. Any doctor that don't even TRY to give you this (sticking up his middle finger) well....he just ain't no good!"

More on Historic Leaders

Every four months or so my brother and sister in law pay us a visit from New England. We always look forward to seeing them and Dad loves having new people in the house to talk to. I always try and plan a few day trips to see the sights of the surrounding areas. Dad is always invited along but declines with one excuse or another. When we went to the aquarium he said "I seen enough fish when I was in the army." This of course leads into long stories of his time in England.

Today we are going to "The Little White House" where FDR once lived. Dad agrees to go along. When we arrive we go through the museum part of the tour first. There is a massive time line on the wall with various photographs indicating important events in US history. My brother, sister in law and I stand and read some of the events out loud that interest us and point out interesting pictures. Dad is wandering aimlessly around the room, looking out the window and up at the ceiling. We call him over but he ignores us. There is a large pillar in the room with names listed of contributors of the museum. Dad stops and begins to read the names out loud. I go over and tell him "Dad those are the people that contributed money to the museum. Come and look at this time line on the wall, you should remember some of these events." He looks at me and walks away. He goes over to the time line and says nothing. Within minutes he approaches me and says "Yeah, I remember this guy, ha ha ha yup! He's the one that had the affair with his sec - a - tary, but he didn't want no one to know about it." Of all the things FDR was remembered for, this is what he has retained. Which unfortunately makes sense, keeping in mind that one of my father's favorite topics is sex. I look at him and respond, "Well that's nice Dad, lets go in the other room and look at some of the old cars."

Eventually we make our way down the path to the "Little White House". It is a beautiful summer day. When we enter we find that there is a woman in the house available to answer questions. Since we are the only four people in the house at the moment, we get all of her attention. She has the most adorable southern accent and is quite friendly. If I didn't know any better I would have said she knew FDR personally. What a wonderful tour. Once we make it through we head back up the path to the servants quarters and it is clear that Dad is getting tired out. We look through the servants quarters quickly. While there Dad tries to sit on one of the couches with a big sign - "DO NOT SIT". My sister in law, who is quick on her toes is able to avert the catastrophe. We get out side and sit down for a few minutes. We all pose for a few pictures. I ask Dad if he enjoyed the "Little White House" and if he thought it was interesting. He states "Well I think SHE was eatin too much before we got there, she's a fat one!" He is of course referring to the woman in the Little White House who answered all our questions. I look at him and wonder why his mind works the way it does. In general he has nothing kind to say and is always the first to say something negative.

Days after my brother and sister in law leave for New England, Dad is sitting at the kitchen table and blurts out "They had a wax statue of that guy over in England." I have no idea what he is referring to. "What guy Dad?" "You know that Roosevelt. Yeah at Madame Mauren's House of Wax. I don't know if that was her name. Whatever, anyways I was there and they have the guy that you are suppose to give your money to and then a fake one of him. You are suppose to figure out which one is real. Naturally I tried to give my money to the wax guy. But Roosevelt was there, but he was made of wax, and Betsey Cross too! They even had Ri - sen - hour."

World Views

Well supper conversation with Dad was very interesting last night. He watches the History channel quite a bit and often "enlightens" me with his vast knowledge of the world:

STONE HEDGES: "Yeah you know those stone hedges over there in Europe, ah I forget where. But those people think the stones were rolled over from Scotland. That's impossible."

THE SPLINX: "Oh I am fascinated by the Splinx. Yeah I would love to see that. They say that there was a man and a woman there. One stands on one side of the Splinx and the other stands on the other. But they can't have no sex! That's just stupid. They can let them communicate though. With these like microphones they had. How could they have microphones? I just didn't understand that one! Yeah I would love to get over there and see the Splinx someday."

OPHILIA REINHART: "They don't know what happened to her. BUT I KNOW! Yup the Japs got her for sure. I had a picture in my room when I was about his age (pointing to Jay) I remember it. It was of Lindenburg from the newspaper, I had it on my wall in my bedroom. Lindenburg and the baby oh he was happy!"

RANDOM STORY: "Oh I remember this story from a long time ago about a king. They were havin this birthday party for him and he didn't want nothin. The people from all over brought him gifts. There was this one boy who didn't have anything to give the king so he gave him his cat. Turns out the kings castle was filled with rats and the cat ate all the rats. The king was real happy. Isn't that funny? I remember that story like it was yesterday! "