Father's Day

For 10 years in mid-June I’ve been a painted bicyclist at Seattle’s Solstice Parade. It’s how I celebrate my birthday and get spiritually re-calibrated with the support of 1,000 naked people. This year I went to San Diego instead for a Father’s Day lunch with Sid at his favorite deli. We invited 4 of his former neighbors he’s known for decades, none of whom are Jewish. Dad was very concerned about the possible use of mayonnaise. Everything worked out. It was quite a caravan of wheelchairs; one of the ladies is recovering from a shattered leg (gardening accident) and Sid is still healing his ribs. We named them the Broken Bone Association. We all shared matzoh ball soup, I convinced a Christian missionary to try cheese blintzes, and Dad stole a reasonable amount of pickles.

Dad is adapting well to the assisted living area at his community. He misses some of the folks from the independent building – but not 101-year old Ida (“she’s too mean.”) Note: Ida is currently writing a pamphlet for newcomers who don’t understand kosher traditions, as she is horrified by their ignorance. I suggested the title “There’s No Bacon Here.” Meanwhile, Sid thoroughly enjoys assistance in the shower when done by attractive girls. I no longer worry about his safety and nutrition. It’s also family therapy: his residential upgrade has relieved me of constant micromanagement and it’s worth every penny. No more mystery pills exploding on the kitchen table. There are still challenges (e.g., why do his hearing aids fall out when he chews?) however it’s wonderful to once again have a phase of relative calm. This is all bonus time, and I’m grateful. Yes, I made the right choice how to greet summer.