Uncle Bob or.... Sweat Sweat Sweat

Uncle Bob... I don't have an Uncle Bob.... actually it turns out I DO have an Uncle Bob but that is an entirely different story which is convoluted and sad and does not serve the purpose of this blog so I will leave it alone.

Here is the story of Uncle Bob:Dad and I would go on hikes in the woods. I dont'remember how often, I don't remember how far, I don't remember where.... and when you think of it, none of the above really matters. What matters is that I spent time with my Dad, walking around making memories. As children do, after awhile I would become tired or bored and want to turn around or stop... Dad always kept up a nonsensical banter. He was/is a funny guy and I wish I could relay to you through writing the funny things he would physically do.... I remember many a time that my Mom would get mad/annoyed at him because she was serious about something and he was being goofy... which is hillarious because Mitsuko of gets mad/annoyed with me because I can't seem to be serious sometimes. I am my Father's Son. So anyway on the hike I would basically start dragging ass and suddenly I would get a boot in the butt.... from Uncle Bob. I would know it was Uncle Bob because right after the boot in the butt, Day would say reproachfully: "Uncle Bob!!" We would be walking along... say I am to the right of my Father and he would kick with his left foot behind his right leg, booting me in the butt. So then we would talk about Uncle Bob and how silly he was for running up and kicking me in the butt and what I would do if I caught him etc... so this in turn completely distracted me from the fact that I was hot, tired, and ready to quit. He could get at least another mile out of me that way.... and when things got really "rough" for me on the hike he would sing the "Sweat Sweat Sweat" song... Vicki I am sure remembers this song and I unfortunately am unable to relay to you the silliness of it nor how he would always end each verse with a rasberry.... He ended alot of things with a rasberry and often a little jump to go along with it.... *sigh* "Sweat Sweat Sweat we all like to sweat, sweat sweat sweat, we ALL like to sweat HOOOOO sweat sweat sweat we all like to sweat oh sweat sweat sweat..... thrrrpppbpb"

Floppy the Big Nosed Indian

Okay so by todays standards this would be a horrible thing.. right? They are Native Americans and to imply that one may have a ridiculously large nose (so large in fact that he was named "Floppy") the image above does not do justice to the one I carry in my mind, but I am not an artist so it will have to suffice as a visual reference.

Every night, Dad would tuck me into bed and tell me a story. I really have no memory of him ever actually reading me a bedtime story though he probably did. I do remember the wonderful tales he would spin, conceived and born right there on the spot from his wonderful imagination. The one "character" that has endured, that will one day be introduced to my future Son at bedtime is Floppy the Big Nosed Indian. He always began the story with that "Floppy the Big Nosed Indian" and off he would go. I do not remember any of the specific stories Dad told of Floppy's adventures, just that somehow he always managed to get himself in some sortof trouble and always ALWAYS was able to extract himself from the predicament and come out looking golden. What was great was that it was inevitably Floppy's oversized nose which got him the trouble and Floppy's oversized nose which saved the day. Somehow, his nose, the bane of his exsistence, his source of embarassment and shame, always came through for him in the end. Now I don't know what life lessons there are to be learned from those stories. I don't know what the moral was and I will not belittle the memory by trying to analyze and figure it out. What I do know is that my Dad took the time each and every night to sit on the side of my bed and let me see what a wonderful, silly, intelligent, and loving Father he was, and how much he loved being my Dad. I will carry Floppy with me forever.

What I know....

This is what I KNOW...

Alzheimers Disease (AD) is the most common form of dementia, a neurologic disease characterized by loss of mental ability severe enough to interfere with normal activities of daily living, lasting at least six months, and not present from birth. AD usually occurs in old age, and is marked by a decline in cognitive functions such as remembering, reasoning, and planning....

So sterile and cold... no face, no history, no emotion yet that is what is happening to my Dad and within my Dad arethe faces, the history, the emotion

Beginings

So here I am, 39 years old, wonderful, loving wife, geat job, the future bright and full of possibilities. And each day when I wake up I think of my Dad... and how I can be, not just like him, but as near as I can get. As a husband, as a future father, as a man. He, I am sure without ever being conscious of it, set for me, what it is to be a Man.

Starting this blog has been more difficult than I imagined it would be. I am filled with a sadness as I write that wants to take over. Wants me go hide and cry because I know my Father is getting sick. His Alzheimers progresses and the Daddy I know will eventually fade and I am not there for him. I took a job across the country and I know as a result I will miss so much of him.... I dread the day when I come home and I am a stranger to him. This sweet, loving and compassionate man who raised me and loved me no matter what.

My hope is that heis proud. Proud of me as his Son, and proud of himself for doing such a great job. For showing me not through lecture or speech, but through pure example what it is to be a man.