This is a real picture of my Dad, that's him, "at work," circa Jan 2006.
A Poem of Rates and Sales
I met Dad, next to last in the day care hall,
We drove to the Food Emporium where
We got meat loaf, mac’n cheese for dinner,
The receipt fell on the kitchen table
This, the benefit of Bobbie, Dads friend,
his lady friend of twenty or more years,
(my Mother having died in ‘79)
Who’s in Florida the week with her friends,
Time was she took him also, before his
Alzheimer’s
Got worse, thus I took a week off and I’m
serving Dad duty in Connecticut,
running errands on the list she left me,
Mornings, breakfasts, he liked animal shows,
Especially the parabolic shots
of four legged cats, lemurs, in
Spanish,
Which we neither understood, but over
coffee and a Thomas’s with red jam,
He understood, laughter starting his day,
While I enjoyed him just enjoying,
before we left for day care,
Dinner meant news time, his response to which,
thanks to the confluence of Alzheimer’s
and low blood sugar, was to annoy me,
endlessly every evening this week,
By clicking around the channels, red faced,
Rebutting with invectives what ever
the cable whack-a-mole talking heads said,
So, tonight I left the off the tube, and set
mousily to microwave our dinners,
That’s when he found the grocery receipt,
next to the do list, conspiring with the
junk mail!
I knew, not good,
Dad had audited bills
and balanced invoices and receipt for thirty years,
for AT&T,
And I knew what he could do stray claims accounts…
"Uh huh. You gotta watch them like a hawk. They’ll always try to pull something on you. They’ll always try to sneak something in."
Ever had hair raise under your collar?
When Dad was back at work you never want
to take things away from him,
It starts arguments, so I behaved
and ballet danced the good son’s role
in his folie a’ deux,
I just watched him pointing his pencil about,
first he ticked off items on the receipt,
- then cross checked those against the to do list,
- and so often referred to the junk mail
- as if the junk mail was the bulleted
- company procedural manual
"Dad, if anyone knows how to stop them in their tracks it’s you, Dad. You’ll catch ‘em in the act. They’ll never slip a number in with you on guard."
"Dammit, they try to get’ch ya, some people got nothin’ better to do, there out there, and always they’ll God Damn…"
the microwave dinged
"Hey, why don’t you go wash up, we can settle these accounts later"
He looked at me like I had three heads, or,
he was going to hit me, then got up
and walked off to the bath to wash his hands,
I recycled the junk mail and the grocery receipt,
and put the to do list in my pocket,
He came back, sat down, said nothing to me,
"You ready for dinner?"
"Yeah."
As I poured the wine I knew him,
he’ll be more fun again and we’ll
watch a movie after dinner,
‘Cause,
Life is poetry, in ones mind,
But doggerel with kin, when kind
Never to baptize me to his creed?
