My mother and father just stopped by the house to drop off some firewood / BBQ fuel, courtesy of a neighbor of theirs who had to cut down a tree. As Dad and I were getting the wood out of his truck and stacking it in the garage, he remarked that he would be seeing his doctor soon and was anxious to make sure he was OK.
"So, lemmee ask ya a question," I said, as I snagged one of the bigger pieces. "Who loaded this wood?"
"Well, I did-- but Mrs. Macy's son helped," my father told me, as he made a point of grabbing a piece of equal size. "But I had to put all of it in the truck this morning by myself."
"Old man," I said. "There ain't nothin' wrong with you."
Not long after, he and my mother hugged my wife, hugged me, and got back in the truck to drive a hundred fifty miles back to their home in Centerville. They'd come to Houston to visit my mom's younger sister and detoured on the way back to see us. She's 91, he's 87, and I can't even begin to say how much I love them both. I just turned 50, I like to think I look 40 and have been know to let people flatter me by saying I look younger than that. But I can't imagine that I'll be throwing loads of firewood in the back of a pickup or driving a hundred miles for the hell of it when I'm 60, much less 80. I'd pay someone to do it, maybe con someone into it.....but I don't think I'd be doing it myself.
My father is one of those 'greatest generation' types. He and all of my uncles wore uniforms in WWII, while my mother and all of her contemporaries worked, sacrificed, and not infrequently grieved. My dad was an aircraft mechanic who spent the war in Blackpool, England.. The closest he ever came to combat was testing-firing machine guns in a B25 while he watched the sun rise over the Irish Sea from 20,000 feet. One of his brother saw ground combat on Iwo Jima, the other was an engineer in Sicily. Then they came home and built houses and drove trucks and raised families.
My mother and father have been married longer than I have been alive, been there without fail for my sister and myself for our entire lives. They have lived and continue to live lives of simple faith, honor, and dignity. I don't know that I would particularly care to emulate my Dad, I don't know that I could (my own life has been, for the most part, a messy and ironic carnival). But I will always respect him.
And always love him.
