Bed that inclines, reclines and declines

You spend a third or more of your life in one of these things.

    Kay and I are saving for one of three things on our wish list. We’ve yet to agree on which of the three we’re saving for, because Kay has her priorities all messed up.

I refuse to let the squabble end our marriage, but I’ve got to say, a less patient husband would’ve walked long ago.

The list? Kay and I have wanted to go on a trip to the Northwest for the longest. Oregon, Washington and then a cruise to Alaska. The trip will cost about two million dollars. I did the math.

    New flooring in the living room and study is a definite priority… to Kay. She wants to yank up the carpet and put down some kind of wood-flooring so all our floors will match. The House of Matching Floors sounds more like a bad horror movie than a feasible way to spend money we don’t have.

    Kay is torn between these two costly endeavors. Me? I want what’s behind door number three. -- A new bed! -- And, there is singing in the streets.

    Some of you are thinking that the cost of a bed doesn’t match with the cost of a trip or flooring. That’s ‘cause you’re thinking about a bad bed. I’m thinking about a tempurpedic, bed that will incline, decline and recline. In other words, I want a giant hospital bed without the visitors, the tubes and the blood pressure thing that wakes you up every 10 minutes.

    What I’m looking for will cost well over $5000. The mattress ads won’t tell you that, but the guy in the mattress shop has to. Of course, it’s the last thing he tells you. He’s got you lying on the proverbial lap of luxury, in a reclined position just perfect for watching TV or reading. Now, he can hit you with the price.

Kablooey! Kay wasn’t with me during the sale’s pitch or she would’ve likely kneed the salesman. “Don’t you ever throw a price like that at me again! Ever!”
Before I ran home and told Kay the price, I told her some of what the salesman said. We spend a third of our lives in bed. Isn’t that something? And, then I added, “If we got a bed that we could read and watch TV in, we could spend two thirds of your life in bed.  

We could get the king size dual recliner. “If you want your feet lower, lower ‘em! If you want your back higher, raise that mamba! I can touch my feet to my toes and you can lay flat for all I care!”  -- Then I hit her with the price. Fortunately, I blocked her knee.

I think we’ve purchased two mattresses during our 40-year marriage. Two pillows, too. I used to have a Tempurpedic pillow that cost me $100, but I left it in a cheap motel in Atoka, Oklahoma. I would’ve called and asked them to mail it back, but I felt too sorry for the maid. The minute she put her head on that thing, she couldn’t give it up.

They’ve got fake Tempurpedic that’s a lot cheaper than the real. Is it just as good as the real stuff? The salesman swears it is… right after you tell him you can’t afford the real Tempurpedic.

The thing is, there are people who can’t stand their Tempurpedic mattresses. That’d be terrible. They took their child’s college fund to buy the bed, and end up not liking the thing, because it’s too hard and doesn’t bounce. They should’ve gone on a trip to the Northwest with their kid’s college fund. 

You wanna know something scary as all get out? Of course you do. Someone in the Asian community has invented an air-conditioned bed. What I’m sayin’?

I want the last bed I ever buy to be air-conditioned and reclining. Since I will be spending much of my later life in bed, it needs to be the best there is.

All I have to do is get Kay to bite on this notion. One of my best arguments has been that if we spend our money on a trip, we’ll end up back home sleeping on an old, non-reclining, unair-conditioned bed forever.

And, the flooring? Since we’ve been living in this house, we’ve yet to have a single soul ask if our living room floor matched all the other floors. Yet, almost daily, someone asks me, “Hey, Mark, how’d you sleep last night?” I get that a lot. Maybe 3, 12 times a day. More if it helps.

You know what’s gonna happen don’t you? If I keep pressing this thing, Kay will take a cruise to Alaska right after registering me in a room with a twin bed that reclines with a railing on it that secures the remote control and some of the tubes that will be sticking in several of my orifices.

Oh, yeah. And, the blood pressure machine that goes off every ten minutes.

end


You can reach Mark at mark@rooftopwriter.com

Who's still alive out there?

“He can’t have just died!”


    Did you know that Abe Vigoda is still alive? I had no idea. I’m glad as I can be that he’s not dead, but I sure thought he was.

    I learned the news about Vigoda while looking to find others I had mistakenly thought dead. Seems there are several actors, the names of whom, I have prematurely filed in the “demised” folder of my brain. (I’ve decided to attempt one proper sounding sentence in every third article. That was it. Boy, did it hurt.)

    It was the shocking news of Ernest Borgnine that launched my quest. Last week, the news of his death about freaked me out. I thought for sure the guy was already dead, and I’ve got the memory to prove it. I obviously based my finding on something really wrong. I’m blaming it on the “The Poseidon Adventure.”

When the family went to see Poseidon, I punched Jill the minute Borgnine’s character showed up. I said something to the effect that Borgnine would never leave the ship alive. I’ve always had a knack for spotting the dead characters.

Unfortunately for me, Borgnine’s character made it off the Poseidon. I thought sure Gene Hackman would survive, while Red Buttons and Borgnine would buy the proverbial farms. Unfortunately, I had it completely reversed. I think it would’ve been a much better movie had I written the ending.

Where was I going with this? Oh, yeah. After I discovering that Borgnine had actually been alive before last week, I got to wondering how many other actors I had mysteriously killed off. So, I did some research and was able to re-file Abe Vigoda among the living.

Andy Griffith was right where I thought he was. The news of his death didn’t surprise me. Before I got the news, I was pretty sure he was still alive. His recent death did sadden me quite a bit, though, because I really liked Andy Taylor.

Unfortunately, Andy Taylor died to me about the time the show went from black and white to color. Of course, we didn’t have a color TV at the time, but I could tell things had changed for the bad. Howard Sprague? Emmet Clark? What was that all about?

The only ones left from the original show are Opie and Gomer. If I learn next week that Aunt Bee just died, I’m gonna freak.

Last year when David Nelson died, the news hit me hard. Ozzie, Ricky, Harriet… and then David, the older brother. No more Nelson family. (Did you know that Ricky Nelson’s real name was “Eric”? This article is turning up one surprise after another.)

Not too long ago I bought a 100-episode collection of “The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet.” I’ve watched half of ‘em. Kay quit watching with me after the third episode. She somehow thought the family boring. When Jill visits, she absolutely refuses to watch any of the episodes. She hates “Ozzie and Harriet” even more than “Have Gun Will Travel.” And, yes, I’m still mourning the loss of Richard Boone.

Speaking of “Gunsmoke,” except for Buck Taylor and Burt Reynolds, everyone is dead. I didn’t remember Dennis Weaver dying, but he sure did. Probably the majority of all the character actors who appeared on “Gunsmoke” are also gone. Must’ve been a few thousand of them.  

I think that everyone on Bewitched, Bonanza, and I Love Lucy is gone. I guess I should check just to make sure. Give me a second. – Okay, here’s what I found. From “Bewitched,” Tabitha and some character named Dr. Bombay are the only ones living.

While I did like Elizabeth Montgomery and Dick York (the first Darren) I never cared much for the series. I rate it right down there with Gilligan’s Island. Speaking of which, Ginger, The Professor and Mary Ann are the only ones still living from Gilligan’s Island. Figured you want to know.

With regard to “Bonanza,” it’s likely no surprise that all the Cartwrights are dead. The guy who played Candy is still living. Never cared for his character. He was the Howard Sprague of “Bonanza.” The actor, David Canary, who played Candy, was a really bad guy in the movie “Hombre.” He played it so well, that I just couldn’t see him as a good guy on “Bonanza.”

    Which reminds me of Andy Griffith. Did you ever see Andy play a bad guy? Let me tell you, he wasmost convincing. I absolutely hated to see Andy Taylor acting mean. Scared me is what he did.

Andy Griffith: Face in a Crowd. Mean man.

    Where was I going with this? Oh, yeah. There are several actors, the deaths of whom I’ve greatly exaggerated. I don’t know what to do about that other than apologize. So, Tab Hunter, I’m sorry, man. I thought sure… Uh, Larry Storch. What can I say? I loved “F-Troop and the news that you’re still alive.

    Adam West, Julie Newmar, Rose Marie… And, the list goes on and on.

end
   

You can reach Mark at mark@rooftopwriter.com

Elsie didn't trust us so much to give the right answers.

“Mom vs mom”

    Tuesday, I had one of my “I’ve-gotta-call-Mom” moments. Something in the newspaper triggered a desire to share something.

    I’ve had fewer and fewer of these episodes over the years. I doubt I would’ve had this one had it not been for the fact that Mom passed away six years ago today. There’s obviously something biological that causes our brains to equate certain events with position of the sun.

    You could blindfold me, stick me in the middle of a field, and, come fall, I’d be thinking about football. Late May still feels like the end of school to me. The first time the thermometer dips below 60, I sense that Christmas is a day or two away.

    And, ever since I got the call from Larry late in the night, my thoughts of Mom seem to pick up as July 12 approaches.

    Kay and I were having breakfast for supper at IHOP a couple of weeks back, and a lady walked in with her near-two-year old daughter. They were seated at a booth across from ours. As soon as they got seated, the mother asked, “Now, are we going to be a good girl this time?” The kid thought for a second and then said, “No.”

    I immediately thought of Mom. My mother never asked our intentions. -- Are you gonna behave? Are you gonna be nice to your sister?– Mom had seven kids, and not one of us ever had such a question directed at us.

    Mom didn’t trust us to come up with the right answers, so she never asked. She told us what we were going to do. “You’re gonna behave yourselves in the store, or you’ll be walking home… with a limp.” 

    The mother at IHOP also said, “Summer, please put the fork down.” Summer thought about it for a second and then dropped the fork. The mother thanked her.

    Elsie never began an order with a “please.” Nor did she ever thank us for doing what she told us to do.  -- “Dennis, please quit strangling your brother.” THUD. “Thank you, son. Now who’s a nice boy? Oh, yes you are.”

    No, it would go more like this:  Whop! “Leave your brother alone!” A good WHOP took care of just about anything. 

Regardless of the discipline, I loved Elsie so much. Respected the daylights out of her. I knew she loved us, yet, she showed no favoritism. We all got spanked pretty much the same. Except for Big Al. You ask me, that little dweeb suffered from too few whoppings.

    Truth is, Mom saved my life hundreds of times. She did it by not telling Dad. When Dennis and I got into some big trouble – the kind Dad needed in on – Mom would say, “You just wait till your daddy gets home.”

That always sobered us up big time. As I remember, she told on us one time. She waited till she caught Dad in a good mood and then sprang the news on him. We walked away with a stiff lecture. Important thing is – We walked away.

I doubt Elsie-discipline would hold up in this day and age. Somebody would end up spending some serious time in lockup. – “Mrs. Hayter, it says here that you threatened to -- Let me see – ‘Kick your son into next Thursday.’ How do you plead?”

I would have to testify in Mom’s defense. It was the only way she could control us. I feel certain we would’ve laughed at “please” and “thank you.” We were experts at exploiting any sign of weakness. 

No, a good threat and an occasional spanking worked with us. The more humorous the threat, the more effective it was. If you can get a kid laughing at the thought of what you might do to him, you’ve pretty well won his heart and soul.

Mom took a chunk of my heart with her when she left us on that July night. During my youth, that woman cooked, cleaned up after, shopped for, and prodded me along the way I should go.

And, during my adulthood she kept the family close. We’d have cookouts, parties and get-togethers every other weekend. -- Now? Not so much. It’s just the way of things.

One of the things I miss most about not having her around is the fact that my mother prayed for each of her kids everyday. When she went to bed on the night she died, I’m certain she mentioned me to God.

Wish I could call her and tell her how much that meant to me. I know she knew, but still…


END

“Vampires, Zombies and Husbands”


    Can you spare a few minutes listening to me talk about movies and TV programs? Few people I talk with watch TV or go to the movies. I can understand that. Movie tickets cost too much and the price of a bag of popcorn would send 18 Canadians to the Olympics. Perhaps an exaggeration.

    Many people don’t watch TV so they can feel superior to the rest of us who do. –  “No, I don’t watch TV, ‘cause I’m so much better than you.” – That’s just the way I hear it.

    Truth is, you can learn a bunch of important stuff from movies and TV programs. Take the movie Kay and I saw last week. We spent $13 on tickets and $12 on a medium popcorn and soda. That’s $25 to learn one of the most fascinating things in history.

    Hey, I’ve taught history. History and I go way back. Yet, I completely missed the part about Abraham Lincoln hunting vampires. I must’ve cut class on the day it was mentioned. Fortunately, we were not tested over the vampire part. I could pass the test now. Let me tell you, Abe Lincoln kicked some serious vampire rear.

    I never dreamed vampires would become as popular as they have. The first one I ever knew was played by Bela Lugosi. Just not that frightening to me. And, to be honest, I thought he was pretty much the only one out there. Oh, he had a couple of female vampires that followed him around, but they were pretty much thrown in to attract the older guys. Girl vampires? Give me a break.

    Lugosi wasn’t even all that strong. His big power was hypnosis… and biting. He bit a lot. If he couldn’t control your mind, I think you could beat the daylights out of him.

    Today’s vampires are kick-in-the-rear tough. They’re fast, strong as all get out, and some of ‘em can turn invisible. And, there are millions of them. There may actually be as many vampires as zombies, and there are a lot of zombies.

    Unless you watch TV and movies you don’t realize that zombies have become fast and really aggressive. They don’t take a shot to the head well, but they’re some tough walking stuff. Smart even.

    But, it’s all pretty much lost on me. Unless Abe Lincoln, The Bee Gees or one of the founding fathers is involved, I count myself among the few disinterested in vampires and zombies.

    What I’m into now are the investigative murder shows on TV. You know, “Dateline”, “Unusual Suspects”, “48 Hours”, “The New Detectives”, “On the Case with Paula Zahn”… Those of you who see TV time as a waste are really missing out on a lot of sneaky stuff that goes around.

One thing I’ve picked up on is the fact that husbands kill their wives a lot. If you find the body of a married woman, the first thing you do is arrest the husband. I don’t care if he was in another country at the time of the killing, the guy did it.

It’s almost the same with wives. If a husband dies “mysteriously” it’s either his wife or girlfriend who did it. But, in defense of the wives, I’ve gotta say that there are a lot of husbands out there who need a serious whomping.

These shows are so informative. If you watch enough of ‘em it will ruin you for jury duty. – “I just don’t think there’s enough evidence that points to the defendant.” – “Did you miss the part where they said he was THE HUSBAND?”

The one thing that really irritates me about these shows is that many stories could be told in ten minutes, yet they drag ‘em out for the whole hour. At times they’ll even make the lame story into a two-parter.

They manage to do this by rehashing everything they’ve told you after each commercial. If you have to actually sit through the commercials and the retelling of the same set of facts every ten minutes, your life span will be shortened two weeks for each episode you watch. You’d be better off smoking four packs a day.

There are so many other movies and TV programs I would like to share with you. So many things we few who waste our time and money going to the movies and watching TV have learned over the years.

Sure there are other ways to entertain oneself. Reading comes to mind. I enjoy a good read… but it’s so slow. And, I can’t read and eat popcorn. It’s way too distracting. The reading. I’m pretty serious about my popcorn.

end

mhayter@rooftopwriter.com

No important decisions!

“They're baaaack”

    At the hospital this morning, I signed a document promising not to make any important decisions for 24 hours. Oh, and I promised not to drive. I don’t believe it said anything about operating heavy equipment so I may borrow the neighbor’s backhoe and go tear the daylights out of something.

    What have we come to? My Dad never had to sign anything before surgery promising not to sell the family’s car and buy a golf cart. Back then we were nice and didn't need to be reminded of stuff.

    Of course, while Dad did nothing stupid after surgery, he did do some questionable things while perfectly lucid. Like the time he cut himself a big piece of chocolate pie and then plopped himself down in our quick trigger recliner.

The carnage was not to be believed. However, the thought of suing Cheap Eddie’s Furniture and Cat Grooming never crossed Dad’s mind. A good man, my dad.

Excuse me a second, I have look at the clock. Ah. I’ve got 12 hours and 28 minutes left before I can talk about important stuff. This is torture to a columnist like me. Like I. You know, people on TV aren’t saying “me” anymore. They use “I” even when they’re not supposed to. “Something scary is going to happen to Dennis and I.” That’s not correct.

Yet, people are starting to talk that way. Not so much about Dennis and me, but about other people and me. Or “other people and them.” How much more time?

I guess I should tell you what happened. Ya wanna know what happened? Well, the lithotripsy sound wave thing I had done last week didn’t break my kidney stones up as well as hoped. And, let me tell you I was hoping. And, praying. A big boost to your prayer life, kidney stones.

So, this morning the doc goes in and grabs a stone that had gotten wedged. Don’t ask, ‘cause I wouldn’t even let him tell me how he did it. The little gesturing with his fingers looked like something that maniac in the Elm Street movies does.

Anyway, I’m so much better now, and getting better still. That’s a movie or song… something that just flitted across my brain. For once it was the artistic part of my brain. I’ve made way too many stops in the stupid part of what-you-call-your cranial region.

How much time? – Okay, while we’re waiting, let me take time to thank all of you who phoned and e-mailed. I now name you among my brothers and sisters. And, brothers and sisters you be who fought with me on Kidney Stone Day. Shakespeare?

I did get some helpful hints for passing and preventing kidney stones from many of you. A lot of the remedies involved lemons. An interesting fruit, the lemon. And, the lemon flower is sweet.

One idea involved glycerin, lemons and water. Kay couldn’t locate all the glycerin I needed, so she used what little she had on hand for making bubbles. Don’t make me explain.

Anyway, I don’t think the recipe called for the bubble-making glycerin. I believe I was supposed to use the bomb making kind. Blow the daylights out of those devil stones.

One kind lady (lives in Nevada! Nevada!) recommended I get a case of “Real Water” from Cosco’s. Says it’s helped her husband immensely with his uric acid kidney stones. Kay tells I/me that my stones are the calcium kind. She actually remembers stuff the doctor says. I can’t believe it. I’m tempted to get the water anyway, because the Nevada lady was so nice. Thanks, Wendy.

Let’s see how much time I’ve got left.  Hokey smokes! I’ve still got 12 hours and 14 minutes. I thought I was at least at the two-hour mark. Boy, I wish I hadn’t signed that contract. I could be talking some serious stuff here.

As is, let’s talk about Donald Trump. How rich does a guy have to be before he does something about his grotesque comb-over? He’s either surrounded completely by Yes men who keep telling him he looks great, or he signed a contract that he wouldn’t make any big changes with his hair until he was over the influence of meds.

 I don’t think a contract about doing important stuff is legal. It can’t be. – How much time do I have? – Sheesh!

END

 You can reach Mark at mark@rooftopwriter.com.

Again with the stones.

Me on inverting table trying to dislodge kidney stone.

“Return of the kidney stones”

   
    You’re going to have to give me a second here. I’m a bit out of breath from jumping up and down. Kay made me do it after I got the call from Diane.

    I couldn’t pick Diane out of a two-person line-up, but the girl had some important information to convey. Seems Diane is an agent of the hospital. The financial part of the hospital. She told me that unless I pass my kidney stone by the day after tomorrow, I’m going to be out $2116.88. That’s after insurance has paid its share.

Now that I think of it, I pay before the insurance pays. The hospital will not mess me until I kick in my share. Insurance companies they trust. Me? Not so much.

    Like I said, shortly after the call, Kay had me jumping up and down in the living room. Kay has a list of stuff she wants to buy. No where on the list will you find the words “Lithotrypsy for Mark.”

    Lithrotrypsy is the procedure whereby kidney stones are crushed with sound waves. I’ve had it done several times, and I still don’t understand how it works. I assume it has to do with a Tiny Tim recording piped into your kidney. What else could it possibly be?

    Kidney stones have cost me a fortune over the years. The last bout was about three years ago. I had two large stones, one in each kidney. After the doc crushed ‘em, he told me to lay off tea, drink a lot of lemonade and take an anti-kidney stone pill multiple times a day. Not the cheap one. The expensive one. He didn’t say that, but that’s what happened. 

    Yeah, I followed his directions and three years later I’ve got a stone in each kidney that’s likely too big to pass. Since I’ve been in pain for a week now, the doc said the one in my right kidney is not likely to pass.

    He showed me a picture of both stones. One of ‘em is still in the kidney, but the one giving me the trouble is stuck somewhere between kidney and bladder. – Hey, I don’t enjoy telling you this any more than you appreciate hearing about it. It’s just that when I have kidney stones I have trouble thinking about anything else. I’d write about ducks or cheese spread, but I’m just not in the mood.

    To show you how serious this is, Brad Meyer called to check up on me. Brad! Meyer! The guy who drags me with him to review eating places. If you knew how little Brad cares about me, you’d weep. Yet, he called. He actually called to get some information from me about an article, but he first asked how I was feeling.

    Last week, Brad and I were about to give a talk to a group, and right before we were introduced, I walked out of the room. Kidney stones give me the perpetual feeling that I have to pee. If I weren’t feeling so bad, I wouldn’t have just used the word “pee” in the article. My sense of propriety would’ve kicked in. Right now I have no sense of propriety, couth, direction, or smell. Maybe I can smell. I just don’t care.

    When I made it back to the auditorium, Brad gave me the ol’ stink eye and told me that I about scared the daylights out of him. The big goober could’ve handle the room by himself, but he needed me for a prop. I’m the target of some really keen insults. I don’t know if I’m that stupid, or he’s just an insult wizard. Probably some of both.

    The good news is, in a couple of days this will all be over. The stone will either have passed or been crushed by Tiny Tim’s rendition of “Tiptoe through the Tulips”.  If Kay gets her way, the stones will be jostled out of me. If not, we’ll be paying for the doc’s kid’s fall semester at Princeton. The last time I paid for the anesthesiologist to take his wife to Bermuda.

Kidney stones are the most expensive mineral in the world. I don’t know what they’re made of, but it’s not tea, milk, cheese or soda pops. I’ve given up all of those for a period of time with no favorable results.

They may be made of some kind of expensive anti-kidney stone pill. These last two stones grew quicker than any others did. I’m thinking this crop was pill-aided. That’s as good a theory as any.

end

To view Mark and Brad's review of "The Counter" click on photo below.

The guy was hard to buy for.

Left to Right: Cousin Roger, Mark, Dennis and Dad.

“Shopping for Dad”

    The worst gifts that I have ever given anyone were always given on the third Sunday in June. Dad got every one of ‘em.  

    Let’s face it, Dad was the hardest person in the world to shop for. It didn’t help that all we had to spend on him was the allowance he gave us. He never gave us much, but it was generally more than he could afford. Dennis and I generally pooled what we got, and we still couldn’t come up with anything good to get him.

    You’re way ahead of the game if your Dad has a bunch of hobbies. Or maybe some bad habits. Maybe he drinks a lot. Back in my day, a couple of bucks could buy you a bunch of hooch. Booze, fire water, the hard stuff. A couple of kids on the next block could’ve set us right up. But, unfortunately, Daddy didn’t drink.

    He did chew tobacco and smoke cigars, though. Started chewing tobacco at the age of seven. I think he took up cigars because Aunt Mary wouldn’t allow chewing tobacco in the house.

I’m fairly certain that tobacco is what led to Dad’s death at an early age. I’m six months older than Dad was when he died. I don’t know what’s going to eventually get me, but it’s not going to be tobacco, giggle water or over-exercise. It’ll probably be something I ate… a lot of.

    Having said that, I must tell you that Dennis and I did get Dad some cheap cigars and Mail Pouch brand chewing tobacco a couple of times. This was back when kids could buy tobacco for their parents. Back when tobacco was good for you. Dennis and I could get a bag of Mail Pouch for a quarter and a bunch of King Edward or Prince Edward or some Edward guy cigars for a dollar. You can’t beat a deal like that.

    The only hobby Dad had was golf. I guess it’s considered a hobby. I know he never got paid for it. Dad did enjoy his golf. I’m so glad he had something to enjoy. Some place to go where he could escape his responsibilities for half a day. When you’re responsible for eight other people, you’ve really got a bear to load, uh, a hoe to row… you’ve got problems.

    So, sometimes Dennis and I tried to get Dad something golf related. Golf balls make a good gift. Back then you could get one Titliest for a dollar. Titliests were the best. May still be. I haven’t bought a golf ball in 20 years. Dad liked Titliests, but we always got him a brand known as PoDo.

    You could get three PoDo’s for the price of one Titliest. PoDo’s were the cheapest unused golf balls in the world. The name itself screamed “CHEAP!”

Why would anyone with a hint of business sense come up with such a lousy name for a product? – “Well, Frank, we could call it ‘Stratosphere’ or ‘Warp Drive’ or ‘Laser Fire.’” – “No, no, I’ve got it! PoDo!”

One year we got Dad a little clicker to help him keep up with his golf score. He acted like he really liked the counter, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t. Losing count of your strokes is how you imporove.

A couple of times we actually tried to buy Dad some clothes. We never got him a necktie, ‘cause he already had two. One wide and one less wide. I don’t think the man ever bought a shirt in his life. Mom did all the shopping for him. I’m not sure he had much of an opinion about styles.

Seems like we bought him socks a time or two. Back then you could get a whole wad of socks for a dollar. Bad ones. No elastic. None. I think they made ‘em out of leftover shirtsleeves.

Yeah, Dad got some lousy gifts for Fathers Day. But, he never seemed to mind. He was always such a good receiver of stuff. I think most dads are.

Dads learn not to expect. You could’ve cancelled Fathers Dad and I doubt Daddy would’ve noticed. – “You don’t say? How many years back did they cancel it?”

Bottom line, I wouldn’t worry so much about what you got your father for Dads Day.. I'm sure he acted like he loved it, regardless. Truth is, he probably consider the hug you gave him as the best part of the gift. It’s just the way dads are made.

end

can view Brad and Mark’s review of the Bikini Sports Bar and Grill by clicking on the photo below.