Dear old Dad

Today I would like to talk a little about my father, who passed away 6 years ago. I had a good relationship with my father, we didn't have a lot in common but we did maintain a good sense of humor. Growing up we got along all right, he was busy with work and I always had my nose in a book. Later in life, after I had grown up, we seemed to do a lot better. I can understand that, I'm not too comfortable around kids but since my nephews have grown into adults we seem to communicate better also.

The one flaw (if you consider it such) was that after my father retired and started working afternoon and evenings as a hotel desk clerk he had a lot of time free in the mornings. My father never really had any hobbies so he became bored quickly. The only thing he could do to keep busy was putter around the house. That's where the trouble began.

By "putter" I mean that my father needed to change things. At first he was content to work in the basement in his area where he kept all his reel-to-reel tapes (remember those? Anybody?) and cassette tapes and books and tools, whatever. He was never satisfied, always calling me after I came home asking me to help him lift something or hook up some wires he couldn't reach. Soon he became bored with that and started changing the furniture around in the living room, den, and bedrooms. He would do that when he was home alone in the daytime, since Mom and I both worked days. All I can say is that it's a good thing I'm not blind. Some people move their furniture around for a change once every few months. He did it nearly every day. I would have been black and blue if I was blind because I would never know or remember where the furniture was from day to day. Furniture, pictures, if it could be changed he would change it. Soon it became almost a game to come home, get in the front door, and look around trying to determine what was different. It was like those puzzles in the magazines in the doctor's office where you try to determine what is different between two pictures. As a result of all the changes my mother and I have grown very indifferent to change. I can't remember the last time any of the furniture was moved.

Tonight I was home by myself and looking for some things. I started to clean my bedroom but needed somewhere to put some things I didn't have room for and that were getting in the way. I went down to the basement to Dad's area in hopes I could set up a computer on his desk to get it out of my room. Well, one thing led to another and before I knew it I was sorting everything in the area. Then I cleaned off his desk and started moving some of the boxes and furniture around. Halfway through it I found out the top of his desk was the old door to my room with a blanket over it, being held up by stacked egg crates. The funny part was when he used the door he never took off the doorknob. I decided to remedy that. As I was working on it I said aloud, "Pop, why wouldn't you take the doorknob off?" I halfway expected an answer. I had everything moved around and had created a lot of working room when it hit me, I was thinking also how I could change my room around next. Help me, I'm becoming like my father!

Looking at it, that's not a bad thing. My dad was an okay guy, he just needed change, unfortunately not once in a while but on a daily basis. Me, I've been in a rut for years. Maybe I needed to do this to realize I need change also. I always liked my job because it had variety, I would get bored easily doing fast food or something like that, where you do the same thing all the time. Maybe I need to work on variety in my personal life, and where better to start than at home.

So I'm going to start making some changes around here. Maybe it will help me to change my lifestyle too. After all, you have to start somewhere, right?