the lava lamp

About a year or two I had read two decent books.
"Water for Elephants" by Sara Guen and "Twenties Girl" by Sophia Kinsella.

Perhaps I mentioned in a previous post that I read these books. Both of these books bring to life the colorful and significant history of aged individuals. Although these books are fictional, they portray these vibrant individuals with such colorful pasts only to be ignored, forgotten and disgarded when they are old.
I cringe when I read in the paper about cost cutting measures in the government. The first thing that is cut is services for the elderly. I see these "occupy Boston"idiots camping out in protest of , I think ,but who the hell knows, wall street and other such nonsense. It is too bad they didn't use their passionate energy into halting elder abuse instead.

I know many people avoid older people for some reason.

I tend to gravate towards them. I think it is because I don't have any grandparents.

Whenever I hear grandparents gush and brag about their grandchildren, I admit, I get pangs of jealousy. I wished I had grandparents who posted bumper stickers on their car that said "ask me about my grandchildren" and boost how proud they are of me. Those kids do not realize how lucky they are. I often wonder if those same grandkids will give a shit about grandpa/grandma when they are no longer capable of 'spoiling" them.

Over the years, I've watched my father fail. The Parkingson disease is remarkable in it's progression on how it continues to take away from a person. Half the time I do not know what my father is talking about. I have to guess and try to interpret what he is trying to convey.He will have illogical outbursts as well. These along with the physical breakdown is a part of the parkingson's disease.

I try to take my father back in the time machine by talking about stuff in the past. I think it helps jar his memory. For Christmas, I bought him a lava lamp. My Aunt Joan (who had passed away 11 years ago) had a lava lamp. My Aunt Joan was my father's older sister. We used to go there many years ago for Christmas eve when I was a little kid. She had this red lava lamp sitting on her TV set. It had this soothing effect when you watched it. My father was so happy when I gave him this lamp. He said he 'loved the lamp" . It helps him sleep at night when he watches it bubble up and down in it's glass bottle. It is relaxing to watch.

We talked about Christmas at Aunt Joans and her tin foil Christmas tree with the revolving colored light that my mother hated because it "wasn't traditional and ....gross!". Those Christmas's seemed almost unbearably cold especially having to dress up wearing a velour Christmas dress and then having to sit on those cold vinyl seats of my father's big ass cadillac. Brrrr..... My father got a chuckle when I would complain how freakin' cold it was and having to wear those stupid dresses by refreshing his memory of those past days!

Just recently, he had lost his license officially because of his erratic driving. He would tell my mother he was just driving to the recycling station dump. The dump is the next street over but numerous times he would end up nearly hundred miles away on the front lawn of somebody's house.

As I drove his truck to my house for "safe keeping" I felt sick to my stomach.

Sure, we won the battle (getting the keys away from him) but lost the war (the reality that he will no longer be able to drive again) You try to make light of it trying to convince him (and yourself)that this is a good thing. "yeah Dad, now I am your private slave and chauffeur taking you places. Just think of all the money you will save on gas".

It just seems like yesterday when he celebrated his 50th birthday. I can even remember my Aunt Joan having a pool party for his 30th birthday. I can still hear her say, "oh my God! my baby brother is 30 years old!"