My mother wisely said, You need to spend a little time with your Dad. I was on vacation at my parents’ home in Midland, Texas. My dad was approaching his 90’s. His health was faltering. Caring for him was difficult for mom, sometimes very hard. Nevertheless, her belief was unshakable. Pills, treatments and doctor visits can’t have the last word. Talk to your father about tires. Take your father to get tires for his truck. Though he hadn’t driven for years, Dad’s ‘85 Ford Lariat pickup signified he was still in the game with places to go. Mom’s suggestion jump-started my sensitivity. Over the next day or two, I talked to my dad about his Lariat, a solemn subject. Actually, conversation with Bob Barker invited exhaustion. We knew his hearing was seriously impaired. Just how much he could hear, well, that was his secret. If mom didn’t stuff his hearing aids into his ears, he wouldn’t touch them. Yeah, I can hear, he growled. What? What did you say? Dad, I fairly shouted, let’s go look at your truck tires. They’re not in good shape. Three, two, one and . . . What?What did you say? I guided him outside. Going anywhere required a great effort, even to the driveway. He took small, shuffling steps with a cane. Let’s use a coin to measure the tread, okay? He inspected the wheels one by one. Yes, he agreed, we need new tires. The next morning I drove him to the tire store in downtown Midland. An older gentleman named Burt was behind the counter. Dad, a petroleum landman all his life, came alive. The Bob Barker of yesterday was back. He was there to make a deal, get a check signed and take possession. Bob, I know what you need, Burt yelled, you need the same kind of tires I got on my truck! Slapping his hand on the counter like the old days, my father chuckled and fired back, Let’s do the deal. He signed his check with a flourish. We rode home on gleaming black tires. In the driveway I said, Your truck needs washing and a wax job. Do you want to go with me? He replied firmly, No,I’m going to let you do that. He wanted his favorite chair. On the scale of things, going to a tire store isn’t a big deal. But devotion is. Mom kept my dad at the center of everything. It was good for his health. Good for love, too.
My mother wisely said, You need to spend a little time with your Dad. I was on vacation at my parents’ home in Midland, Texas. My dad was approaching his 90’s. His health was faltering. Caring for him was difficult for mom, sometimes very hard. Nevertheless, her belief was unshakable. Pills, treatments and doctor visits can’t have the last word.