not-so-sticky

I've been meaning to take Dad sneaker shopping. His current sneakers are a nondescript gray pair that Velcro shut. Dad always had a preference for the plain. The Velcro is very handy but there isn't much in the way of support for his arch. Just a bland, ordinary gray sneaker. Lately, I've been hiding his sneakers from him. It's far more comfortable to lounge around the house without shoes. I also take his shoes, though, because he is less likely to wander outside without shoes. I will not say it's entirely impossible, but it's far less likely. A couple of nights ago, I was helping Dad was sitting get ready for bed. He was sitting on the edge of his bed. I kneeled down on the floor in front of him and unstrapped his shoes so that he wouldn't wear them to sleep. I pulled the shoes off of his feet and turned to set them on the other side of the door that leads up to the attic so that they would be out of Bob's field of vision. "That's odd..." ...

I was standing at the sink washing dishes when Dad made his first round down the hall to the kitchen from the living room. He seemed a bit anxious but the day had been a long one so I didn't think much of it. It would be time for bed soon. As always, he stopped by the sink in his circular trip through the house. Typically, he comments on what a great job I'm doing washing the dishes but today, he said something I thought a bit unusual. "Are the blogs all OK?" he asked. I paused. Dad has long ago forgotten how to use a computer and to reference a blog in any universe is new knowledge. He has heard me mention the word before, and seems fascinated by it; he always demands to know what a 'blog' is when he hears the word referenced. However, he never pulls it out of nowhere. It's always in connection to something he has just heard. And no one in the house was talking about blogs at the moment. "Yes, the blogs are all O.K.," I said. He didn't loo...

Even now, Dad tries to hide the issues with his memory. It's embarrassing to him and I think it was for a long time before anyone could identify a 'problem' with Dad. In some ways, Dad is still very clever so it's hard to tell when he's kidding and when he isn't. And I think because of this, I am uncertain the problems with Dad's memory really began. A couple of Friday afternoons ago, Kyrce and I wandered Uptown to Hudson Coffee Traders with Dad to meet an old friend of ours we hadn't seen in a year. No one was around to keep an eye on Dad so I decided to bring him with me. I thought he might enjoy tagging along and getting out of the house for a bit. Dad was truly in rare form on this afternoon. I don't think any of us could get a sentence out without Dad interrupting. When I asked him to please not interrupt, he insisted that if he didn't interrupt, we'd never let him get a sentence in! Disgusted with us trying to quiet him, he decided he...

With my eyes squinting from the light, I stepped out of the dark sanctuary of my bedroom and into the bright, cold hallway. I didn't stumble far until Dad popped his head out of his room to greet me. I was surprised to see him in there still and not down on the couch, where he often is hours before we are awake. Have you seen the Bowflex Revolution ? I didn't really know what to say. I was still half asleep and I probably looked confused. Well, have you? Have you seen the Bowflex Revolution?! Dad grinned. He stood sideways in the hall and flexed his arm muscles. Dad...would you please go back in your room for a bit? I have to get ready for work. Oh ! Where's that? In here? Is that where the Bowflex Revolution is? Yes, Dad, that's where the Bowflex Revolution is. It was nice to see him in a good mood, even though he almost seemed delirious. Since Dad was probably up for several hours before I stepped into the hall, I imagined he had been watching infomercials for the sam...