I was listening to the radio last night and I heard an advertisement for firm called “A Place for Mom.” I thought, “What about me? What about a place for dad?” I will be 71 next month. I could be a vessel occlusion away from incapacity.
There are places for such an occasion. I had been walking precincts awhile back and wandered into one of those “homes.” There was the vague but ubiquitous odor of stale urine and a foyer that served as a parking lot for wheelchairs carrying bodies with brains that seemed to have flat-lined. No one was trying to escape, and I took this as a bad sign. If I end up in such an institution, it won”t be voluntary.
I thought about my son. He did mention, at one time, that if I showed any sign of weakness, he was going to send me to a home. I am not sure whether he was trying to motivate me to stay in shape, or, in the alternative, he was intending to practice a perverted form of the concept of “tough love.” Or, perhaps he thought the vision of his father wearing both a look of incomprehension and Depends, might scare his kids. No help there.
So, I thought about my daughter, and what help she could provide. Now I must say that my daughter has never been squeamish about changing her kid”s diapers. However, using the wipes, the Desenex, and the depends on dad, would probably be seen by her as a boundary best not crossed. I would not have done that for my dad. I liked him, but not that much.
Then I thought of “Grandpa” in the movie “Little Big Man.” Grandpa goes in to the mountains to perform a death ritual. Little Big Man goes to see what happened. He finds Grandpa and says something like “You are still alive?” Grandpa replies, “Sometimes the magic works, and sometimes it doesn”t.” If I had to spend two nights out in the woods, even if I did not die, I would probably wish I were dead. So, going into the woods to die does not seem like a prudent choice.
I finally concluded that, since “there”s not that many shopping days ”til Christmas,” I should not waste time fretting about my future, and instead, “seize the day.”
I almost typed “seizure the day.” God may not always be with me, but Freud, he is a constant.
Nelson Strasser, Lakeport
