Dear Marjie Alonso, Background: My amazing father is 81 and studying Russian, he takes virtual classes twice a week and does many hours of homework (he also speaks perfect French, German and Italian, and a little Mandarin, and his memory just generally reminds me of a computer). He volunteer administrates at a weekend program for little kids and he walks around the reservoir every day, year round no matter the weather. On average, death takes away at least one friend, family member or former colleague from him every month (my mother died 5 years ago and he keeps himself surrounded by photos of her and wears his wedding ring). Time is rolling fast these days for my dad and me (I'm 58) and I can't help but think that now days 81 will get to 91 (and 58 to 68) in the blink of an eye. My father's large and international social circle seems to be shrinking fast. It's late, I can't sleep, and I decided to see if there are any recs on facebook for professional wallpaper hangers in Somerville and somehow a 2022 post you wrote about your dad turned up in my search. I read every comment and then went back and reread a bunch of them. Well it's been 2 years since that post of yours which I've only come across tonight, in 2024. Such a wonderful post and equalled by wonderful responses! I tried moving on (to find that rec for a professional wallpaper hanger I need) but I couldn't get your dad and you off my mind without asking. So I went back to your post and contemplated the following reply-post: How are you and your dad? I hope he and you are very well. Instead of posting that though, I looked at your facebook profile, noted you are a writer and then internet-searched your name. Landed here (oof, 2am) and found out: You're both very well! Cheers to you both! Sincerely, a brand new substack subscriber of yours Xtnamb :-)
Your father cracks me up. He's got some great lines. In addition to being a great father, he also makes for great material.
So much of this post reminds me of the residential community where me mother lived. When I turned 55, she told me I was old enough to move in. No thanks for me but I'm sure glad she did. One reason she chose this one was because of the bar. Residents and their guests could gather there every night before seated at dinner. The fireplace was huge. The wait staff knew everyone's name, their food preferences, that they wanted to take home the fruit salad and soup for tomorrow's lunch, and that my mother's beau wanted a Arnold Palmer after he finished his Bulleitt Rye.
I'm so glad these places exist for our old parents. My mother made so many new friends there as well as found a wonderful boyfriend.
It sounds like your father still keeps up the good lines whether he hears what comes before or not.
BTW, I only drink white wine. I trust you'll forgive me for that.
I had a good laugh over this one! Your writing is such a gift. I miss the sometimes circuitous conversations with my very hard of hearing father. They were never as clever as yours, though.
Love it!!! A realistic Clue game with Dad as the culprit!!!! Love that guy!!!!!
WHAT??
Mr. Naan in the sports library with the shrimp shrimp.
Dear Marjie Alonso, Background: My amazing father is 81 and studying Russian, he takes virtual classes twice a week and does many hours of homework (he also speaks perfect French, German and Italian, and a little Mandarin, and his memory just generally reminds me of a computer). He volunteer administrates at a weekend program for little kids and he walks around the reservoir every day, year round no matter the weather. On average, death takes away at least one friend, family member or former colleague from him every month (my mother died 5 years ago and he keeps himself surrounded by photos of her and wears his wedding ring). Time is rolling fast these days for my dad and me (I'm 58) and I can't help but think that now days 81 will get to 91 (and 58 to 68) in the blink of an eye. My father's large and international social circle seems to be shrinking fast. It's late, I can't sleep, and I decided to see if there are any recs on facebook for professional wallpaper hangers in Somerville and somehow a 2022 post you wrote about your dad turned up in my search. I read every comment and then went back and reread a bunch of them. Well it's been 2 years since that post of yours which I've only come across tonight, in 2024. Such a wonderful post and equalled by wonderful responses! I tried moving on (to find that rec for a professional wallpaper hanger I need) but I couldn't get your dad and you off my mind without asking. So I went back to your post and contemplated the following reply-post: How are you and your dad? I hope he and you are very well. Instead of posting that though, I looked at your facebook profile, noted you are a writer and then internet-searched your name. Landed here (oof, 2am) and found out: You're both very well! Cheers to you both! Sincerely, a brand new substack subscriber of yours Xtnamb :-)
Your father cracks me up. He's got some great lines. In addition to being a great father, he also makes for great material.
So much of this post reminds me of the residential community where me mother lived. When I turned 55, she told me I was old enough to move in. No thanks for me but I'm sure glad she did. One reason she chose this one was because of the bar. Residents and their guests could gather there every night before seated at dinner. The fireplace was huge. The wait staff knew everyone's name, their food preferences, that they wanted to take home the fruit salad and soup for tomorrow's lunch, and that my mother's beau wanted a Arnold Palmer after he finished his Bulleitt Rye.
I'm so glad these places exist for our old parents. My mother made so many new friends there as well as found a wonderful boyfriend.
It sounds like your father still keeps up the good lines whether he hears what comes before or not.
BTW, I only drink white wine. I trust you'll forgive me for that.
Peach tea is truly a gift from the gods, no matter how you steep it.
Seeing the one pic of your dad with the fork, I suspect the apple - peach? - hasn't fallen far from the tree.
I really needed your missive in my inbox today, no lie.
This is a great one. And the photo of your father shows perfectly that he has not changed in an essential way.....
I had a good laugh over this one! Your writing is such a gift. I miss the sometimes circuitous conversations with my very hard of hearing father. They were never as clever as yours, though.
If you are not familiar with the old geezers cosy mystery genre, I recommend Richard Osman's Thursday Murder Club series.
I love the stories featuring your dad. I think he’s becoming my ornery-old-guy role model.