What I don't want to forget

I went to Provo and cooked dinner for my parents Friday. They celebrated another anniversary last week, 58 years. Their life is a bit slower these days, but I know all my siblings agree that it is sweet and satisfying to see the companionship they have enjoyed in their later years. I loved the visit so much, I thought I would blog a few things I never want to forget:

1. My parents only have one “point of contention,” as my dad calls it: which way their wedding photo faces on top of the TV cabinet. My dad likes it pointing forwards—towards their easy chairs—so he can look at the photo. My mom turns it at an angle, so she (“she” in the photo) can be “looking at her kids” –our family photos on the wall adjacent to the TV. Friday, Mom was winning. (But Dad was getting ready to walk by and switch it again.)

2. Ever the farmer, my dad goes out each morning and “harvests” a rosebud. His rosebushes are gigantic, and I love that an important part of his daily routine is bringing a single, beautiful rose inside to share with Mom.

3. My dad likes to cook something “a little gourmet” for Saturday morning breakfast. Since Dad does all of the cooking these days, he makes Saturday breakfast something special, like waffles or egg in the bread. He asked me to leave three pieces of the French bread after dinner so he could make extra-gourmet egg in the bread for breakfast.

4. Loud music can be used for pain management. Dad loves to tell his morning routine. Up early, go downstairs, turn on the gas fireplace to heat the carpet, do stretching with light weights and bands as he watches the opening of the stock market, and then, onto the treadmill for the final loosening up. I asked him if he listens to his Bose stereo. He proceeded to push the button and unleash some horrifying—Mexican polka, maybe?—extremely loud music. He has it pointed toward the treadmill, and remarked, “I play it about that loud, to drown out the pain!” Finally, after this warmup he heads for the golf course or the Orem rec center pool. The happy news is that he suffers with much less back pain than he has for years.

5. When I suggested that we should put on a clean tablecloth for dinner, the woman who washed the bed linens and night clothes for nine people WEEKLY for decades said, “We’ll just put the dishes on, and then we won’t see that the tablecloth is dirty.” What?

Well, it was great. There were other highlights I should probably only tell you in person: Mom’s comment about s-e-x, Dad’s “shudder” at the name of a certain crazy TV/radio talkshow host, fun stuff like that. They speak with so much love and gratitude about my siblings who go over every week—Marlene to do yardwork, MaryLynn to help with myriad projects and doctor visits, Steven and Trish and all that they take on—along with the rest of us who get down there when we can.

I enjoyed this so much that I think "What I Don't Want to Forget" will become a regular blog feature.