For the Good of All

Billy, shot by my nephew.  Who is Billy?*

Last week Dad went to Arizona to join family and friends for some spring training baseball games.  To watch, not to play, of course.  He had a great time, bonding with his grandson and hanging out with grandson's FIL, who is a fun guy and really delightful (I've met him, I can vouch).

Meanwhile, back at Midtown Abbey, Lady C  and I thoroughly enjoyed some peace and quiet.  We kept to her accustomed time schedule (roughly) and were able to sit at the table for breakfast and lunch, reading the newspaper with nary an interruption.  Holy bliss, it was.  I am patting myself on the back for keeping her fed, bathed, happy and on-time with her various medications throughout the day.  I even got some housework done, and went to my regular Friday class and Sunday breakfast group (with a movie afterward).  My sis and niece filled in for me on Sunday so I had many hours of away time.  Dad runs a tight ship, and I think I did a decent job 'keeping up standards.'  The best thing was the quiet.  The companionable silence we enjoyed together.  We acknowledged it regularly, with a "Poor Dad, he just can help his exuberance."

We're already scheming on his next out of town trip.  For the good of all.

*As it turns out, Billy is Billy Bean, who was depicted in the movie "Money Ball" by Brad Pitt.  A good movie, btw.

TGIF

Papá del feliz cumpleaños!  81 years young today.

Vigorous, funny, idiosyncratic, a lover of Fox Noise, a proud 'chef', father of three daughters (bless his soul), grandfather to six, a great-grandfather to two (with one on the way), a storyteller, a student, a man who enjoys his life.  He is a walking contradiction, and I love him so.

Birthday Dinner

Dad is Voting for Romney! Really!

Finally received my bumper sticker (magnetic) in the mail yesterday.  I'm putting it on Dad's car.  Let's see how long it takes him to notice.

Dadism

 

True story: Dad reported a dear old friend has passed away. 

I offered my sympathies and said, "He's in a better place." Dad says, "You're right. He lived in Tuscon."

 

The Look

You know the one I'm talking about: you are a big dumb idiot look.

Dad dishes that look out a lot -- my niece doesn't hang out here much because of 'the look.'  I grew up with 'the look.' 

This is a close approximation of the facial expression.

I suppose I do this too, although I'd like to think not.

When I was a kid, the look could reduce me to tears, because I so wanted the approval of my dad.  His disapproving face took the rug right out from under me.

I don't think my nearest and dearest are big dumb idiots; I like to think I have more compassion than to think or feel that even if they say or do something fairly idiotic.  The look is judgemental, the look is harsh.  That's not me (so I like to think).

Words are important.  So are faces.  We express a lot with them.  Maybe we should videotape ourselves in conversation to see what kind of faces we show to the world.

Make Mine a Valium Martini

The healthy alternative to a valium martini

My dad was having a rant today about 'damn socialist policies' that are ruining America.  The 'creep' in teacher salaries in California, for one.  He read in the paper that the average K-12 teacher in the state makes $100k annually.  What?  Well, he says, that factors in benefits and future retirement.  Hmmm.  I pointed out to him that while in the employ of the university, my yearly benefits package was 40% over and above my salary.  It was a satisfactory compensation (tax free) for my meager paycheck.  It's one of the reasons I settled for a meager paycheck.  As was the retirement benefit, which includes health insurance at a very low cost to me.

It helps my father's sense of outrage to be able to put information like this in context.  He knows I live frugally and he doesn't consider me unworthy of my income and benefits.  I wish there was a little angel sitting on the shoulders of outraged people, an angel who could lovingly offer some practical information to assuage their indignation.  Oh wait.   That little angel is called critical thinking.

As I've said before, he watches too much Fox News.  As if there were any healthy amount of Fox News watching.  Sometimes I wonder if, for dad, there isn't a mental health component to this world view.  We were discussing Rick Santorum's socially conservative (primitive, I'd say) views on homosexuality and abortion.  I reminded dad that Santorum does not condone abortion, even in the case of rape and incest.  I said, "That's a pretty extreme view."  He said, "No, not extreme, just different from what you believe."  Uh, yeah.  You wanna split hairs on this one?

Back to the topic of teachers' salaries:  case in point, and one my dad should know well:  his son-in-law was a devoted and inspirational teacher who retired after 40 years of working K-12 in Washington state.  His approximate salary at retirement was 40k.  His retirement package includes no health insurance benefits whatsoever.  The man did okay for himself, though, in part because when he was young and establishing his career and growing his family, it did not take two incomes to afford to buy a home, in Washington.  Buying a home was affordable.

In the California scenario, homes have not been affordable for 20 years.  Even with a two wage earner scenario, the cost of a starter home in many areas of California is beyond reach.  In my area, the median cost of homes rose from 112k in 2001 to 354k in 2006.  Prices have come down, but lending is tighter.

So, instead of pulling your hair out over the outrageously plush salaries of school teachers, why not rail against the economic forces that put the cost of housing out of reach for the average citizen?  Well, because, silly, that argument would not support your paranoid Fox News world view.  After all, it's Obama's fault, isn't it?

I need a Valium.  Or a martini.  Or a Valium Martini, straight up.