TBT Reprints from CJ's Whine and Cheeze

  In 2003, Ma had a stroke. Dad was her full time caregiver until he he had a car accident that totaled the car. So in 2006, I became their chauffeur among other jobs.

At the time, to deal with the stress of running two households and working, I kept a blog entitled CJ's Whine and Cheeze. Egged on by some friends who enjoyed the first read through, you'll see your part when it comes by.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

The Day After

Friday, the day after the storm, I called the Weebles to see how they were doing and if they needed the driveway shoveled. Himself had packed a shovel in the trunk of his car and would stop at the Weebles after school to dig them out. Usually, one of the neighbors would snow blow the driveway for Dad, but just in case Himself would be prepared.

I called and the phone rang, and rang and rang. Ma doesn’t move fast and around the nineteenth ring she picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I called to see how you were doing. Did you get a lot of snow? Do you need the driveway shoveled?”

“HE’s out there doing it.”

“Who?”

“Your father.”

Silently, I said some choice phrases concerning Weebles, and I looked to the heavens” 🙄

“He shouldn’t be doing that.”

“I know, but he has to go singing.”

I forgot the day. Friday is the Goldenaires glee club rehearsal. Dad is McNamara, the leader of the band, and he’d sooner cut off his right arm then miss anything to do with singing.

His singing is a bone of contention for Ma. She’s jealous of his mobility. He gets out of the house every chance he can get. Either he walks to the Senior Center or one of his “ladies” comes to pick him up. That’s another sore point, the ladies. While Dad is out and about, Ma can’t have him under her thumb.

“He shouldn’t be out shoveling,” I preached to the choir. I wasn’t sure if Dad’s bit of stupidity had to do with his OPD of singing, a death wish, or a combination of both. Most likely, the death wish. If he dropped dead from a heart attack in the middle of the driveway, he’d show her! “Himself will stop by after school to shovel.”

“No, he has his own work to do.”

“But…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll fix HIM.”

I knew she meant Dad and not Himself.

“What will you do?”

“If he moves one toe over the driveway to go singing, I’ll lock him out.”

I laughed. She would too. I remembered a story I heard as a kid. Dad had been out at some Knights of Columbus event. Ma had imposed a Cinderella curfew. In by midnight or else. Midnight came and went with no sign of Dad. She locked both front and back storm doors so he couldn’t get in. He spent the night in the car.

I sent Himself an email. C’mon home. The driveway will be taken care of. I didn’t add and so will Dad.