Watching TV
My father's favorite sport is baseball. I don't know why. Maybe it's because he comes from a time when there was nothing else to do. Back when he was growing up, it didn't matter that a baseball game could last all afternoon. What else were you going to do? Cut an apple in half and watch it turn brown? My lovely wife tries to make it as enjoyable as she can for him. She fluffs his pillow. Makes him snacks. She even sits him down and turns the TV on for him. The only problem is, he won't stay sitting down. He gets up and goes to his room constantly. When he does, after ten or fifteen minutes, we'll change the channel, but my father must have some kind of radar, because that's exactly the time he’ll come back. He'll walk into the family room, stand on one side of the TV, look at it, at us, at it, at us, and ask no one in particular, "Is the game over?" He knows the game isn't over. I have a s...
