Thank you Grandpa, for everything

Grandpa’s dead now… Well, since Christmas Eve he’s been dead for two years and I'm just now beginning to accept it. I hope I go out like he did - in my sleep. I know, boring as hell, but if it’s on Christmas Day at least I can haunt my descendants a little (the ones who remember me) on what is supposed to be a happy holiday. Christmas Day, Eve - what’s the difference? He couldn’t have planned it any better than that. In fact, without even knowing it he may have been trying to steal the baby Jesus’ thunder. And how can you knock a guy for inadvertently trying? Of course that’s speculation but it’s true he wasn’t a big fan of the manger, or to be more specific, anything religious or even slightly Catholic-y.

Yes, dying in my sleep in my seventies on Christmas Day is exactly how I want to go. Once you hit 80, how can life be any good? A typical day for me at that age would probably consist of coughing up blood, writing a few crappy lines about the “good ole days” right after swallowing a bunch of pills, cursing out the neighbor kids, inspecting my poop and then sleeping for 16 hours. Whoopee!

Grandpa went out right. It was the right time and the right way. He was getting too old to keep driving, let alone keep kayaking the rapids. All he did was worry me the last six years of his life anyway. When thinking about my own children and grandchildren I think six years of stress would be sufficient.

But really, as great as it seems I wouldn’t have to die on Christmas Day. I’d settle for any holiday just as long as I have a few grandkids around to make my own children feel guilty for not spending enough time with me when I was an old maid. Just because they’ll have their own lives is no excuse for the inevitable neglect. Someone has to call them out, even if it’s in advance. Guilt is what makes a family go round. And if anyone should feel guilty, how is that my fault? We all have our share to carry. Some of us just choose to ignore it.

So as I was saying four paragraphs ago, Grandpa’s dead now, but in an attempt to find some kind of wisdom to pass on to my sons (who are turning 17, 16 and 15 this year) I’ve been looking back at his life. I think it’s my own way of dealing with the fact that I can’t call him up and ask, “So what the heck do I tell these hormonal punks?”

As it turns out, the life he lived is a gold mine of valuable information. Here is a tidbit of what I’ve told my sons: Be careful who you help out. Rescue a dog and you’ll have a faithful friend. Rescue a hooker and she’ll stab you in the back. The beautiful ones you always seem to lose.

Okay, that last line is actually from a Prince song but that doesn’t make it any less true. And this has nothing to do with Grandpa (or Prince) but I’ve also warned, “You’ll need a f**king army or a crazy bitch to stop one. Don’t call me!”

I guess in a few years they’ll already have learned this stuff on their own. Who ever listens to their parents, anyway? Oh... No… They’d better not call me!

Finally, I don’t want to get mushy or anything and you probably can’t read this but I’ll always love and miss you Grandpa. Thanks for everything.

My summer plans include something big this year

When most of my family was here visiting I was in the kitchen and my brother-in-law came along. Out of the blue he started talking about my dog. He told me how well-behaved she was, and asked me how old she was. I told him she was two and it took a few months to train her. Then he asked me point blank if I’d take my sister’s 3-yr-old dog for them. They didn’t bring Monty with them so I had no idea what to expect, other than he is very cute in the pictures I have. I told him I’d think about it, and he went on to tell me Monty is a good dog and he would love it out here. The only negative thing he said was that he liked to scratch on the door. I quickly got the feeling this guy has never owned a dog before and was maybe expecting him to be something like this:




I considered that my brother-in-law has been making renovations in their house since not long after they bought it a few years ago, and who knows when they‘ll call it done. It would be a good thing to get a family pool going on since the poker games are few and far between. Anyway, I figured the wear-and-tear factor could have something to do with my brother-in-law wanting to get rid of the dog. Now, I don’t want to take away a pet from my sister that she loves, so I asked her about it. She unhappily told me Monty had to go. That just left me confused. Especially when she said she’d trained him to obey hand signals.


This was Monty two years ago.

I thought about it for as long as I could, which was about a day. I wanted to give them an answer before they left. I was basically just a dancing puppet with my family pulling the strings. I thought about how my dog could use a canine companion. And if Monty eventually got put to sleep I’d get over it, but it would probably haunt my sister the rest of her life. So I told them I’d do it. I vowed to come up some time this summer on vacation and adopt Monty.

Later that day I was talking to one of my brothers and told him the news. He said Monty was stupid, and my dog was smart. Instead of wondering if I’d made the right decision after all, I chose to feel good about someone other than a neighbor who compliments my hair calling my dog “smart”. My oldest son has been calling my dog “stupid” in a loving way for the past year.

When I told my kids about my plan, all but one of them was happy. Unfortunately, when I’d mentioned earlier to my oldest son in a “ha ha” and I-told-you-so-way that my brother called my dog smart, I let the part slip out about him saying Monty was stupid. Where is the duct tape when I need it on my mouth?

The day the family reunion officially ended and they all hit the road, I called my dad. What do you know, he was taking care of Monty for them while they were away. And he didn’t have anything good to say.

Uh oh.

When my ex found out we’re getting another dog, he asked me if I’d take one of his dogs too. I found it extremely easy to say, “No.”