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senoritafishSo my dad said to me a few years ago when we were running errands for his mother. I told him at the time, "You'd better go get me your rifle right now then, because you are already."
Well. Last night topped just about everything. Understand that although my father is 77, except a bit of trouble with high triglyceride levels and sleep apnea, he is good shape for someone his age. Well enough to go join a Cowboy Action Shooting Society, and every couple of weekends dress up like a cowboy and go plink away at metal targets.
Flag Day, yesterday, was his birthday. I thought we could take him out to dinner; nothing expensive, no lobster like he always wants (I'll let my brother do that) but another fool of bank sent me credit card (only $300, so we're not going to go into too much debt with it). We went to Mimi's as it's good food for a fairly decent price, a pretty diverse menu and a pseudo New Orleans theme. I should have known it was a bad sign when I asked if he wanted to go, and he said he'd already numbed his appetite with a mixed drink he had in front of him. He also ordered a glass of wine while we were waiting.
We were just being seated and I had just pulled out a chair and was about to sit down, when my father said, "Let me sit at that left hand corner." I sighed and was about to move, when John remarked "You know, I don't know any other left handed person who has to have a special seat at the table. Why do you do that?" My dad replied, because it kept him from knocking elbows with other people. John said something about his mother being left handed as well. He should have just dropped it - although he wasn't intending to start an argument, my dad was already in a belligerent mood because of the alcohol and began shouting. People were beginning to stare by this point. When we asked him to lower his voice, he threw his menu across the table and stomped out, sat down at the counter and said he would not come back until John apologized to him. John told him to stop behaving like a child and come back. I asked him as well.
He continued to sit at the counter, and when we asked the waiter to check on him a few minutes later, the waiter told us "Oh, that guy called a cab and left." Right - thanks for telling us. If the guy hadn't told us, we would have been looking all over for him - which we did anyway - as far as we knew all he had was credit cards, and John didn't think cabs accepted them. Apparently they did, when we got home, Dad's car was gone - he went somewhere else to get something to eat.
John felt guilty the rest of the night, thinking he had spoiled my evening - however, it was not him who flew off the handle. We would not have gone out at all if it hadn't been my dad's birthday. Dad apologized to me this morning for making a scene, but refused to say anything to John. I told him as far as I heard I had not heard John say anything insulting. John did tell him later he was sorry if Dad had taken anything as insulting, as he did not mean it that way, but he was not going to take back the "childish behavior" statement. If one of our kids had done that, we would've left, and that child would have been grounded when we got home. Dad made no acknowledgement that anything he did was out of the ordinary -- did not respond at all, in fact.
Honestly, I'm getting so I don't know what to do with the man. He has no friends that live close by. I beg him to go and visit those that have invited him but he won't. His lack of social skills (or disdain for them, I'm not sure which) seem to preclude his making any new ones - he has no concept that when you have a conversation, you are supposed let the other person talk once in a while, and you are supposed to talk about something both of you are interested in. He has been know to go up to complete strangers in a store or a pizza parlor, and tell them about the rigging of topsail schooners or the "Big Bertha" cannon the Germans used in WWII, and go on in detail about what he's read about it, while the other person's eyes glaze over, or they desparately seek some way to escape.
I love my dad, but it's frustrating. I am eventually going to be his caretaker, I know. My one brother lives in Portland, OR, and the other more than an hour's drive away. I want to do that Veteran's History Project with him, but we keep getting in arguments which leave neither of us in the mood.
One day at a time, I guess.
Well. Last night topped just about everything. Understand that although my father is 77, except a bit of trouble with high triglyceride levels and sleep apnea, he is good shape for someone his age. Well enough to go join a Cowboy Action Shooting Society, and every couple of weekends dress up like a cowboy and go plink away at metal targets.
Flag Day, yesterday, was his birthday. I thought we could take him out to dinner; nothing expensive, no lobster like he always wants (I'll let my brother do that) but another fool of bank sent me credit card (only $300, so we're not going to go into too much debt with it). We went to Mimi's as it's good food for a fairly decent price, a pretty diverse menu and a pseudo New Orleans theme. I should have known it was a bad sign when I asked if he wanted to go, and he said he'd already numbed his appetite with a mixed drink he had in front of him. He also ordered a glass of wine while we were waiting.
We were just being seated and I had just pulled out a chair and was about to sit down, when my father said, "Let me sit at that left hand corner." I sighed and was about to move, when John remarked "You know, I don't know any other left handed person who has to have a special seat at the table. Why do you do that?" My dad replied, because it kept him from knocking elbows with other people. John said something about his mother being left handed as well. He should have just dropped it - although he wasn't intending to start an argument, my dad was already in a belligerent mood because of the alcohol and began shouting. People were beginning to stare by this point. When we asked him to lower his voice, he threw his menu across the table and stomped out, sat down at the counter and said he would not come back until John apologized to him. John told him to stop behaving like a child and come back. I asked him as well.
He continued to sit at the counter, and when we asked the waiter to check on him a few minutes later, the waiter told us "Oh, that guy called a cab and left." Right - thanks for telling us. If the guy hadn't told us, we would have been looking all over for him - which we did anyway - as far as we knew all he had was credit cards, and John didn't think cabs accepted them. Apparently they did, when we got home, Dad's car was gone - he went somewhere else to get something to eat.
John felt guilty the rest of the night, thinking he had spoiled my evening - however, it was not him who flew off the handle. We would not have gone out at all if it hadn't been my dad's birthday. Dad apologized to me this morning for making a scene, but refused to say anything to John. I told him as far as I heard I had not heard John say anything insulting. John did tell him later he was sorry if Dad had taken anything as insulting, as he did not mean it that way, but he was not going to take back the "childish behavior" statement. If one of our kids had done that, we would've left, and that child would have been grounded when we got home. Dad made no acknowledgement that anything he did was out of the ordinary -- did not respond at all, in fact.
Honestly, I'm getting so I don't know what to do with the man. He has no friends that live close by. I beg him to go and visit those that have invited him but he won't. His lack of social skills (or disdain for them, I'm not sure which) seem to preclude his making any new ones - he has no concept that when you have a conversation, you are supposed let the other person talk once in a while, and you are supposed to talk about something both of you are interested in. He has been know to go up to complete strangers in a store or a pizza parlor, and tell them about the rigging of topsail schooners or the "Big Bertha" cannon the Germans used in WWII, and go on in detail about what he's read about it, while the other person's eyes glaze over, or they desparately seek some way to escape.
I love my dad, but it's frustrating. I am eventually going to be his caretaker, I know. My one brother lives in Portland, OR, and the other more than an hour's drive away. I want to do that Veteran's History Project with him, but we keep getting in arguments which leave neither of us in the mood.
One day at a time, I guess.
