I call my dad pop

My dad is fading away. It's a long slow process. I feel sorry for my dad. In some ways I guess it gives us lots of time to prepare for his death. I just wish his suffering wasn't dragging out so long. Shit! I don't want my dad to suffer at all. I refer to him as dad but to his face I am just as likely to call him Pop. I like that way of referring to my father.

Pop has a nice friendly sound to it. My dad still has some of his sense of humor. I leaned over his bed and asked him if he was giving the staff at his nursing home a hard time. In a breathless whisper he said "yeah." I said "That's good I'm glad to hear that Dad." It may not be a lot but it's a joke we can still share.

My dad and I always joked around. Sometimes we would absolutely flog a pun to death! We would totally punish it! People listening thought it was torture. They felt like victims of some punish inquisition. Once we got started we just kept on racking them up. This kind of really dumb stuff is so cool. I would love to be able to remember every single stupid joke we made.

Dad almost got in trouble with the cops once over one his jokes. Our next door neighbors were avid Democrats and the ones across the street were dedicated Republicans. One election year they got into a serious signage competition. Their front yards sprouted signs like weeds, they even had big signs on the roofs of their cars. It was crazy! So my pop decides to yank their chains. He switches all their signs! The Dem's next door were now supporting the GOP and the Republicans across the street were now supporting the Democrats! It was really funny until the lady next door had a cow and called the fuzz!

A squad car showed up and soon the cops were knocking on our door. The neighborhood kids had narced my dad out! The neighbor lady declined to press charges once she found out it was my dad that had perpetrated this heinous act, probably because they played bridge with my parents.

Dad has played lots of jokes on people. He and I played one on my little sister that sort of backfired. She wanted him to beat with stick one time, probably over being teased by me. She selected one with a nail in it! Dad talked her out of that but did find a suitable board to whack me with. He made her wait outside a closed door while he clobbered the shit out of a sofa cushion and I moaned in mock agony. Then he brought her in while I pseudo whimpered. My baby sister had a satisfied smile on her face all she said was "good." We cracked up laughing! She wasn't too disappointed.

Man I love my dad! I am going to keep making jokes with him for as long as we possibly can.




Russell