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Friday Night’s Were Fun

  • Posted on July 10, 2011 at 7:38 pm

At dinner the other night, we start reminiscing about the old times, back in Edmonton. I kind of wish those days were still around. I mean, we weren’t what you would call well off, or anything, but we were okay. Bills weren’t a picnic, but then paying them wasn’t a juggling act either.

Dad worked at a Hotel, and Mom’s brother and sister in law lived in the same city. We were close, and both her (Mom’s sister in law) and Mom were plain speaking people. They spoke their minds, which was nice, and yet, you knew, that when you crossed a line with either, you were in deep shit.  They had the patience of Saints, but that isn’t what we were remembering.

Dad’s mother, was a bit of a control freak. She also was lonely, I guess, and hated being left out of anything, including what her little boy was doing. Course Dad was in his fifties then, but that didn’t matter to her. She hated to be left out, so if we went out, she would invariably want to come along.

Many times we were stuck with her, but you know, it really wasn’t all that bad. Bit cramped, but hell, it was okay and we still managed to have fun.

But Friday nights were different. That was our time to go out, do things on the spur of the moment, without any pre planned idea of what it was, we were going to do.   Now, in order to do that, we would have to wait around till Dad’s mom went to sleep. 

That meant we had to wait for her final call of the evening, when she’d phone, asking what we were doing, for the umpteenth time that day ( and every day. She called a lot, 15 to 20 times a day. Now you know why I say Mom has the patience of a Saint. lol ) and so we would say getting ready for bed, or waiting for the news to come on.

It was generally after 9, just before 10, when she’d call.

Mom’s brother and sister would be over by then too, sitting and chatting in the living room. Dad would get home around 9, and always, talk about how tired he was, and that he was going to lay down.  Course, ya know that didn’t happen, or remain that way.

See, soon as that call came in, we got our coats on, and were ready to leave. We’d tell Dad we were heading out, and he’d call us all nuts, but then, yell to wait for him, while he got dressed. Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it? He didn’t want to be left out anymore than his mother, I suppose.

Thing is, we never knew where we going, or for what. I mean it might have been to go get an ice cream cone, if it was Summer. Go to some place for a hot chocolate if it was winter, but it was really just doing something, on the spur of the moment. It was to be family, to get out together, to kibbitz ( to talk ) and just laugh a little at stuff.

Nothing fancy, though generally it was to go try out a new restaurant that had opened, or someplace which we’d never been too. Some of them were really horrid, others were unbelievable, but what never changed, was the fun we had.

Even having to wait for that final call, was fun. We’d wonder when it would come, would we get away with it, and it helped pass the evening away. It was just family, just a way to unwind from the weeks stress, and work. Neither of our families had it easy. Neither Mom and Dad, or Mom’s brother & sister in law.  We didn’t strike it rich, and both of our families worked hard all their lives, until the very end.

Honestly, I rather miss those times. I didn’t have to worry about home support workers back then, and I don’t know, I think back then it wouldn’t have been the problem that it is today. Back then people cared about other people, were willing to go out of their way to lend a hand. Things were different back then, and it was fun.

It is that I feeling that I miss, I guess.  It is a time long gone, all the shame too. 

What One Doesn’t See.

  • Posted on July 6, 2009 at 4:42 pm

Maybe I spend too much time looking back, on the life I have had, with my parents.

I mean for the last 11 years, I have lived at home with the two of them. It started off because of an infection I got in my leg, but then turned into looking after them, due to their health concerns.

It also meant a huge change in my own lifestyle, one that I have to admit, seemed unfair. I mean, here I was, a man of 43, having to babysit two people, in their eighties. It seemd so unfair, but a task I accepted. Like, they are my parents, how could I not?

Yet now, with Dad being dead 7 years, and Mom still going, I find that looking back at that choice, was not a chore, not a burden, but a blessing in disguise. Seriously, I honestly believe that it was, because it has helped me come to terms with life itself.

It has also made me realize, just how much they sacrificed, for me, without a single whimper or complaint. Not once, did they ever throw up the things they gave up, to look after me, as a child, as a man.  That isn’t normal, least if the people I have met, are any indication.

Somehow, looking back is a whole different experience now, than it was before. Maybe it is the reality of impending loss, that makes me look at things, different. Could simply be maturity, though you would think I was mature, given I am 54 and married for five years. Still, maybe not so much.

I mean, Mother went through a double hysterectomy back in the early 1940′s, which explains why they adopted a child. She simply couldn’t have any, but imagine having to go through that, at the age of 25. I simply can’t, and then too, newly married, and the way society was then, about women and their role in the family.

Dad & I never got along, and yet I realize just how much he loved Mom, and how much he loved me too. I wish he was here, so I could tell him one more time, that I love him, but I can’t. And that hurts, even today, 7 years after his death.

I failed him, and the one thing that drives me today, is to not let that happen with Mom. I didn’t stand up more, with the Doctors, with the System, when he got sick, and I should have. But more than that, I never stopped to think about him, his feelings, when I could have. I should have told him I loved him more often, but didn’t.

Now I have a chance with Mom, and yet, I find myself drawing back, afraid to be emotional, in public. Odd that, because this is about as public as one can get, isn’t it?

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