Wow! It's been over a year since my last post? Unacceptable! Sorry about that...I really do need to post more regularly; I don't know why I don't...it's fun and therapeutic for me. I'll work on that.
So anyways, back to my father...The Ricker. We call him The Ricker because he deserves a title. A nickname. A presence. He gives the "most interesting man in the world" (aka the Dos Equis guy) a run for the money. I was thinking about a subject to write about and my father immediately popped up in my head. Rick. Dad. Daddy. Yep, there's something to write about!
My dad just turned 70. Seventy. SEVENTY! That's SEVEN decades of life. Holy crap! That is amazing to me. Mostly because I think as his child, I never really imagined him as "old". I mean sure, when I was a kid, I joked about his age and how uncool he was because of it. But he was never "old" to me. Also because as he gets older, that means I'M getting older. I'm sure it's just as odd for him to think of his daughter in her thirties, with a child of her own. Along the years, we've both watched each other get older and grow up. Well, maybe not grow up. He's 70 and still acts like he's 45.
The Ricker has great stories. Some are true, some not so much, though it can be hard to tell which are which! He has truly lived and seen/done a lot in 7 decades. When I was young, I remember him telling me stories while tucking me into bed. Stories from his childhood that I repeatedly asked him tell me over and over. They were great stories! And I'm sure he added some "fabricated details" in them to get me even more excited and curious about them. Oh, those silly Jolly twins! And whenever a group of his buddies would get together, the stories flowed and the laughter broke out. Always the life of the party...The Ricker.
We have a special relationship, The Ricker and I. We are an odd concoction of oil and vinegar, fire and ice, cats and dogs; I could go on forever with clever analogies, but you get the point. We mix but not so well all of the time. I'll be the first to admit that we have gone head to head more than a few times. We are both strong. We are both stubborn. We are both opinionated. And we are related, like it or not!
I've always seen my dad as a bit of an anomaly. There is simply nobody like him. Especially nobody with his...shall we say "unique" style. The guy on the Pringles can comes close but I'm sure he copied The Ricker's look. He walks into a room and all eyes are on him. Which is probably why he was so successful in the world of sales. A true salesman commands the attention of a room. He was born a salesman and always will be. I got that trait from him. I always joke that we could sell a 70" TV to a blind Monk.
Dad has had a successful professional life. He put in long hours that I only now understand as an adult. He worked tedious hours and commuted for hours in gridlock traffic, often times in the rigid, unpredictable weather of Colorado. But he did it because he wanted my brothers and I to have access to a great life in the woods of Monument, CO. Great schools, small town, good community. He is now enjoying a well deserved retirement in Mexico. He's always got some sort of project going. He can't stay still. He can't keep his mind from running overtime. The man retired twice. He drives my mom nuts! But I guess when the biggest concern of his day is if it will rain while they're at the beach or he's trying to find a toilet seat that fits at the Mexican Home Depot rather than worrying about firing someone or not making his sales quota, it's a pretty good deal.
With him turning 70, it made me start to think about the fact that he won't be around forever. That devastates me. He is getting older, getting more fragile, and slowing down a bit. He doesn't WANT to slow down and I know that my mom has to remind him he's no spring chicken anymore! But there's that Leo fire in him that can't be extinguished; I know because I have it too. That little flame he passed on is the reason my EX husband is my EX. He couldn't "put it out" and change me. That was a case where my stubbornness worked to my benefit. Albeit painful, it was one of the better life experiences. I wrote a blog entry about the trip from FL to AZ with my dad in a Penske truck following the crumbling of the life I knew (you should go read it if you haven't!) and is one of the best memories I have of my dad and me. At the risk of sounding cliche, a girl's daddy is always supposed to be her hero, her knight in shining armor. My dad was my saving grace in a moving truck. I'll never forget that trip and I know he won't either.
With him getting older, it makes me realize how much I need and love him. It makes me value the time we have together, over the phone or in person. Every little conversation matters. Even when we butt heads we always make up. I couldn't imagine not talking to him again. And I know someday I won't be able to talk to him again. I read articles about "older folks" getting sick, falling, losing their brain/body function and I think to myself, "oh well they're just old" and then I look at the age. 76. 82. 91. Then I realize my dad is "getting up there" and there's nothing either of us can do to stop it. It breaks my heart to think that someday, I won't be able to call him and ask about taxes, mortgage statements, barbecuing, investing, real estate, or even something as simple as how his day is going. I can still ask but I won't always get a response. I can only imagine (and this is where my sense of humor comes in) having some sort of meltdown over something simple and wanting to call him only to realize I can't. So instead, I just look up to the Heavens and say, "DAD! Would you please stop golfing and get your butt off the 9th green? I need to ask you something!" The image of him whacking away at an endless supply of golf balls, blaring solid gold oldies, surrounded by cats, with a Cuba Libre in his hand makes me smile. Well makes me smile as much as it can for thinking of something so morbid.
I love my dad. He's one of the smartest, most intelligent people I know. He knows something about everything. He likes to keep his mind sharp. He also still likes to learn and research. He's up on current events. He knows what's going on. When we have an argument, it might piss us off, but now that I think about it, I'm glad. I'm glad we're fighting. That means his mind is working! In that case, I shall take it upon myself to piss him off until the day he dies. You're welcome, dad!
Watching your parents age is not easy. They start to behave like "old" people. They are set in their ways and have their routines. Don't MESS with that routine. I beg you! Don't MOVE that cutting board because THAT'S where it goes! What do you mean you're out of rum? Why is the rum always gone??
Though we butt heads a lot, I know why. It's because we're just like each other. People have told me I'm just like him and I always used to deny it. But it's true; I'm just like my dad. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
