LJ Idol season 10, Week 20: Open Topic
Don't do drugs, kids. Yeah, I know that's obvious. But prolonged use really kills your bain cells. My father is a perfect example. How that man is still alive astounds me. How he never ended up in jail boggles my mind. It defies all odds.
He was born in 1950 and picked up his first cigarette in 1964. He's been smoking a pack of cigarettes a day ever since, with a brief pause when he quit in 1994 for eight months. He's been a pot smoker since the 1970s. He also "dabbles in" (my understanding is he partakes in the occasional use of) cocaine and heorin. Odds are, now that he's retired, he's using other drugs as well. We spoke briefly on Christmas day and he was bragging how convenient and nice it is that since he's no longer a government employee and now no longer at risk for a random drug test, he can do anything he wants.
One of my earliest memories of basically thinking "WTF, dad?" was when I was five. I got off the school bus, walked inside, and saw him painting the living room carpet black. I asked him what he was doing, and he told me that black carpet kept snakes away, and as we lived in Florida, there were a lot of snakes. He was keeping us safe.
We moved into a house in 1994 that probably should have been condemned. I wrote briefly about it in the Location, Location, Location entry. He was elated with how low the rent was because, as he told us, cigarettes are expensive and the less we spend on rent, the more he can spend on cigarettes. I would learn many years later that it wasn't the cigarettes he was excited to be able to afford. The large hole in the bathroom floor, the mold, the holes in the walls, the lack of heat (we lived in Delaware, which gets cold in the winter), the peeling wallpaper, and so much more, were "no big deal" to him and he could not understand why everyone else in the house hated the house.
My brother was born with a serious heart defect, one that kills the vast majority of babies born with it. He had open heart surgery at five weeks old, and again a few months later. He's 29 right now and still has to see pediatric cardiologists because the kids just typically don't live into adulthood. My father always tells everyone he meets that the only reason my brother had so many surgeries is because "his mother keeps taking him to the doctor". No amount of arguing with him will change his mind.
After I graduated high school, I moved to the other side of the country to escape the dysfunction that was my family. I would get calls from my father once or twice a month asking me what grade my sister was in, how old she was, what dates her band concerts were, when parent/teacher conferences were, etc. He refused to call the school and was too embarrassed to ask my mother or sister. My sister, for the record, was nine and in fourth grade. For the next eight years, he never did learn how old she was or what grade she was in. He checked with me almost monthly during those years.
Now, he's completey livid at technology. He will not get a smartphone. It's not because he doesn't know how to use one or becuase they're expensive. It's because smartphones are "killing the world" and the world's problems would mostly be solved if we just used standard flip phones and got rid of smart phones. His car is from 1982. It's not a classic car he keeps in immaculate condition because he's proud of it. He has it because "older cars run better than new ones, and new ones are dangerous because the technology in them takes over and makes you crash." He will not use a computer. They're evil and ruining the American family.
My brother recently had a major medical setback. As he lives in another country (Toronto, Ontario, Canada), it's been a bit of a mess trying to figure things out. Do we leave him in Canada, where he has access to free medical care, or do we move him back home where he can be with family, but has no health insurance? He's moving back home. Initially, he was going to move back home in August, but last week he took a turn for the worse and now he's moving back home in six days. He's moving into my bedroom on the second floor and I will be moving into the finished attic on the third floor as it's accessed by a very narrow, steep, spiral staircase and he can't manage that right now.
My mother called my father and asked him to fly up to Toronto early to help my brother pack up his things. My father refuses to contact anyone or hire anyone (money is not an issue) because he's conviced that he can pack up my brother's entire apartment into a U-haul and drive it to the house by himself. He's 67 years old and thinks he can pack up all the furniture and get it out of my brother's 8th-floor apartment alone. My brother is unable to lift anything right now, so my dad's on his own.
My father's phone will not work in Canada. He will not buy a pre-paid phone in Canada becuase "those are dangerous". He was calling me before he left and asking me how to get boxes in Canada to pack up my brother's things. I told him he's smart and can figure it out. I'm busy working two jobs, getting everything I own out of my bedroom and into the attic in three days, getting the house ready for my brother to move in, and helping my mother fill out a mountain of paperwork for my brother to get health insurance within the next week. My father can figure out how to get fucking boxes in downtown Toronto.
So my dad's in Toronto, helping my brother pack up his apartment. My brother's flying home Saturday and my dad's driving back Tuesday. I've spoken to my brother and my father is apparently freaking out because there are no boxes and he doesn't know where to get them. My brother tried to get my father to use his computer to search, gave him his phone to make phone calls, and gave him a phone book if the computer scared him too much. But the phone scares him, so he won't even look in the phone book. Apparently, he's just going to toss everything loose into the U-haul when the truck arrives later this week.
*sigh*
Seriously kids, don't do drugs.
He was born in 1950 and picked up his first cigarette in 1964. He's been smoking a pack of cigarettes a day ever since, with a brief pause when he quit in 1994 for eight months. He's been a pot smoker since the 1970s. He also "dabbles in" (my understanding is he partakes in the occasional use of) cocaine and heorin. Odds are, now that he's retired, he's using other drugs as well. We spoke briefly on Christmas day and he was bragging how convenient and nice it is that since he's no longer a government employee and now no longer at risk for a random drug test, he can do anything he wants.
One of my earliest memories of basically thinking "WTF, dad?" was when I was five. I got off the school bus, walked inside, and saw him painting the living room carpet black. I asked him what he was doing, and he told me that black carpet kept snakes away, and as we lived in Florida, there were a lot of snakes. He was keeping us safe.
We moved into a house in 1994 that probably should have been condemned. I wrote briefly about it in the Location, Location, Location entry. He was elated with how low the rent was because, as he told us, cigarettes are expensive and the less we spend on rent, the more he can spend on cigarettes. I would learn many years later that it wasn't the cigarettes he was excited to be able to afford. The large hole in the bathroom floor, the mold, the holes in the walls, the lack of heat (we lived in Delaware, which gets cold in the winter), the peeling wallpaper, and so much more, were "no big deal" to him and he could not understand why everyone else in the house hated the house.
My brother was born with a serious heart defect, one that kills the vast majority of babies born with it. He had open heart surgery at five weeks old, and again a few months later. He's 29 right now and still has to see pediatric cardiologists because the kids just typically don't live into adulthood. My father always tells everyone he meets that the only reason my brother had so many surgeries is because "his mother keeps taking him to the doctor". No amount of arguing with him will change his mind.
After I graduated high school, I moved to the other side of the country to escape the dysfunction that was my family. I would get calls from my father once or twice a month asking me what grade my sister was in, how old she was, what dates her band concerts were, when parent/teacher conferences were, etc. He refused to call the school and was too embarrassed to ask my mother or sister. My sister, for the record, was nine and in fourth grade. For the next eight years, he never did learn how old she was or what grade she was in. He checked with me almost monthly during those years.
Now, he's completey livid at technology. He will not get a smartphone. It's not because he doesn't know how to use one or becuase they're expensive. It's because smartphones are "killing the world" and the world's problems would mostly be solved if we just used standard flip phones and got rid of smart phones. His car is from 1982. It's not a classic car he keeps in immaculate condition because he's proud of it. He has it because "older cars run better than new ones, and new ones are dangerous because the technology in them takes over and makes you crash." He will not use a computer. They're evil and ruining the American family.
My brother recently had a major medical setback. As he lives in another country (Toronto, Ontario, Canada), it's been a bit of a mess trying to figure things out. Do we leave him in Canada, where he has access to free medical care, or do we move him back home where he can be with family, but has no health insurance? He's moving back home. Initially, he was going to move back home in August, but last week he took a turn for the worse and now he's moving back home in six days. He's moving into my bedroom on the second floor and I will be moving into the finished attic on the third floor as it's accessed by a very narrow, steep, spiral staircase and he can't manage that right now.
My mother called my father and asked him to fly up to Toronto early to help my brother pack up his things. My father refuses to contact anyone or hire anyone (money is not an issue) because he's conviced that he can pack up my brother's entire apartment into a U-haul and drive it to the house by himself. He's 67 years old and thinks he can pack up all the furniture and get it out of my brother's 8th-floor apartment alone. My brother is unable to lift anything right now, so my dad's on his own.
My father's phone will not work in Canada. He will not buy a pre-paid phone in Canada becuase "those are dangerous". He was calling me before he left and asking me how to get boxes in Canada to pack up my brother's things. I told him he's smart and can figure it out. I'm busy working two jobs, getting everything I own out of my bedroom and into the attic in three days, getting the house ready for my brother to move in, and helping my mother fill out a mountain of paperwork for my brother to get health insurance within the next week. My father can figure out how to get fucking boxes in downtown Toronto.
So my dad's in Toronto, helping my brother pack up his apartment. My brother's flying home Saturday and my dad's driving back Tuesday. I've spoken to my brother and my father is apparently freaking out because there are no boxes and he doesn't know where to get them. My brother tried to get my father to use his computer to search, gave him his phone to make phone calls, and gave him a phone book if the computer scared him too much. But the phone scares him, so he won't even look in the phone book. Apparently, he's just going to toss everything loose into the U-haul when the truck arrives later this week.
*sigh*
Seriously kids, don't do drugs.