RaisingDad
by Jim and Henry Duchene
Just Three
"an inconvenient obligation"
...one...
Not only is my wife beautiful, but she’s an excellent cook.
When I look into our refrigerator, I see nothing to eat. My wife, however, can look into anyone's refrigerator and come up with a feast. Her leftovers are better than a gourmet meal at the snootiest of restaurants. My father agrees with me, but he has a backhanded way of delivering compliments.
One weekend, I was laid low with a nasty cold, so my wife made me a hearty stew. There's no such thing as canned this or that or anything from a bag with my wife. She loves to cook and cooking from scratch is the only way she knows how. So she prepared the meat, chopped up the fresh, carefully chosen vegetables, and dropped them into her favorite stew pot along with her unique blend of spices and herbs that Colonel Sanders would be envious of. As the delectable concoction was simmering on the stove, the intoxicating aroma enticed my father to get up from from his favorite chair in the den and saunter into the kitchen, where he then stood over the stew pot and, with his eyes closed, took an appreciative whiff.
"Mmm..." he moaned, hungrily.
"Would you like some?" my wife asked him, pleased he was so taken with her food.
"Oh, boy," my father said. "You bet."
So my wife served him a bowl.
She's thoughtful that way.
"Oh, yeah," my father said after several spoonfuls. "This sure does hit the spot."
My wife smiled at the rare compliment from my father.
The spell was broken, however, when my father added, "Campbell's sure does make good soup."
...two...
Adults have never understood kids and kids have never understood adults, but it's a different kind of generation gap we live in today.
What am I saying?
I'm saying I like to shop at used book stores. I love books, but I'm not particularly fond of paying full price for them. One of my favorite used book stores is affiliated with the city's libraries, so I get a good deal and the money goes to a good cause. It's run by some very sweet elderly ladies who, if you were looking for the typical stereotype of a librarian, would fill the bill nicely.
I was standing in the science fiction section hoping to find either a collection of Fredric Brown's short stories or Jeff Rice's novel The Night Stalker, which Darren McGavin's classic TV-movie and eventual series was based on, and, in an interesting side note, was the inspiration for Chris Carter's The X-Files, starring David Duchovny and the hauntingly beautiful Gillian Anderson.
Well, I didn't find either, but I wasn't disappointed.
It gave me an excuse to come back.
Sadly, that wasn't the case for two young boys who walked into the bookstore. They walked up to one of the ladies and asked her, "Do you have any Star Wars books?"
I gave the shelves a quick glance.
I didn't see any.
Adjusting her glasses, she answered in the affirmative. The two boys looked at each other. I could see them practically jump up and down with happiness.
"They're over here," she told them, and led them to where I was standing.
The boys eagerly looked, but were immediately disappointed.
"These are Star Trek," they complained.
The cashier once again adjusted her glasses.
"What's the difference?" she asked.
...three...
"Do we really have to go?" I asked my wife.
She didn't answer. She just gave me The Look. The one that means Tread Carefully. You know, the old Stink Eye. Still, I pressed on.
"It's not like we're really related or anything," I tried to reason, but there was no reasoning with The Look.
And it was true. The person who had just died and whose funeral my wife was obligating me to go to was the relative of a relative, and not even a blood relative. He was of the in-law variety.
"Look," my wife told me, "it's YOUR family. If anything, I should be the one complaining."
She had a point.
"Okay, pop," I told my father. "It's time to go."
My father reluctantly got up from the baseball game he was watching. A classic, according to the premium baseball channel we get for him. In other words, it was one he had already seen.
"Can’t people die when there isn’t a good game on?" he grumbled.
I don’t ask for perfection.
Just a little less imperfection.
@JimDuchene
