Living and Loving

Tiff and I pull up. The garage door opens. Out walks Dad saying he needs to change before we head out. He's wearing a medium blue button-down and dark blue slacks. And a smile.

I walk in the house, the saddle-leather golf bag I've known for my whole life rests in the middle of the laundry room floor. "He's ready," I think as I stroll to the kitchen to greet Velvet. (How odd it feels for her to be solo. Thirteen years and always the puppy.) I glance down the hall to the master bedroom, hesitant to move, unsure of intention. I do not know if I assume he needs me or if he's really unable. It seems to be five minutes and I still hear him searching.

I enter the room, he's not wearing pants, a sight not all that unfamiliar from my childhood. Except now instead of tighty-whities, he's wearing Depends. He doesn't care, so why should I? The simple things that grant confidence.... Soon he finds and dons his shorts. And a Pebble Beach golf shirt. We're going golfing!!

Off to pick up the third guy, Bob, to round out the "Guys' Day Out". (Bob is my father-in-law, but recently he has become my friend.) We hang around Bob's house for a while, contemplating the weather. Dad shares with Diane his views on the goings-about at church. Eventually we determine that if it rains, it pours, and we'll just grab some brewskis. Until that point, it's off to the driving range for a couple buckets and laughs.

The three of us slap some balls and shake our asses. We joke, we chat, we groan of the stiffness and the damn air that seems to be directing our shots anywhere but straight and far. Dad shoots like the two of us. Some on. Some off. A few "howdoya like that one?" and a lot of "Dammit, what's wrong with you John??" But it doesn't matter, we have a good time just being with the boys.

Then it's time for Sunday football and brewskis at the Captain's Table, one of a few long-time area watering holes as Bob would call it. Dad tells us how the owner "Whatever His Name Is" and the son "What's His Name" take a little away from him when he says "Takonias", Greek for "Hey, how's it going?"

We sit at the bar. We three guys share pitchers and food. And good company and conversation. Many times Dad mentions Grams' absence from church this morning; she's feeling a bit under the weather. So I suggest bringing her a meal to "cheer her up."

Dad carries the shrimp basket to Grams in her reclining chair, then sits Indian-style on the floor beside her with the greatest big smile you can imagine. This is certainly the highlight of his day.

Today is Day 1. No cameras. No gimmicks. Just Bob, Buddy, and Me. Just being the guys. I'm not quite sure where "this all" will lead, but I know beyond the question of a doubt, each one of us had a wonderful afternoon. That will emblazen our memories or spirits in how I do not fathom. But to this I say "Yay" thrice, "Living and Loving Alzheimer's."