Last Sunday was Father’s Day, and to tell the truth, things didn’t go too well for Dear Old Dad.
The words my computer were producing mostly blended together because for the second time within a week the left lens on my eyeglasses had fallen out.
Oddly, a bank of clouds breezed in off the water late in the day, making things, at least temporarily, seven or 12 shades darker than my eyes require, especially since they were looking out from my only spare set of glasses, which are sunglasses.
This is the fifth or sixth time I’ve lost said lens and need a whole new set because (a) I don’t know when it fell out and haven’t been able to find it and (b) have had these frames for six years and the doctor said at my last visit that I could probably use a new prescription.
The day was salvageable.
My favorite daughter called to wish me a Happy Daddy’s Day, followed by a similar call from favorite son. We can only pray that we are in the final stage of coronavirus isolation. The kids, who wanted to be here, had arranged for a catered haddock dinner and I had three newspapers to read, whiling away most of the day, at least the part when I wasn’t asleep.
I’ve given up on TV news. Knowing the latest of the pandemic, the rioting, the police brutality, the racist world we have created, the long lines at the soup kitchen, a dysfunctional government and a looming hate-filled political campaign between a mad man and an old man making one last valiant try at righting the heavily listing ship of state.
Our old men will dream dreams, the Bible promises, so I can say to the old man who is seeking the presidency, he has my blessings and my vote, but also my warning that saving the nation will be tough going. We, the people, are getting too used to bad government.
Since there is no balm coming from the news, Janet and I turned inward, to ourselves, our relationship, our memories, our fun moments, our good life for our sense of what makes life worthwhile.
Odd things have happened. I grew up in a family where gardening was next to godliness, souring me to recreational tilling for a lifetime. Both the children are planting gardens so we are bombarded with pictures of this year’s crops-to-be.
I am also allergic to housework, but in our dotage I have taken on my share and actually enjoy it. Janet said she’d be glad to take on the laundry if I’d show her how to use the new machines.
Role reversal, big time.
We have become binge watchers of mysteries from TV shows or movies. Many of our friends are doing the same. When the virus wanes, we are going to form an old movie club.
Life in the slow lane is pretty good, especially now that life in the fast lane of the modern world isn’t much worth living.
Dan Warner is a veteran newspaper writer and editor.