{"id":3218,"date":"2022-11-30T17:04:18","date_gmt":"2022-11-30T22:04:18","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/rbwood.com\/dir\/?page_id=3218"},"modified":"2022-12-01T14:45:25","modified_gmt":"2022-12-01T19:45:25","slug":"dear-dad","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/rbwood.com\/dir\/dear-dad\/","title":{"rendered":"Dear Dad"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
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Introduction<\/h4>\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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This was a pretty personal piece for me. My dad passed away from four different types of cancer in March of 2016. I cobbled together this epistolary story from letters I wrote to him while undergoing treatments. Many details have been changed for the purposes of the story and to protect my family\u2026but many true details remain.<\/p>

I read this a couple of years ago during a live reading\/recording for my show, The Word Count Podcast episode 88, at a\u00a0ReaderCON 30.<\/em><\/p>

You can listen to that episode\u00a0HERE.<\/strong><\/a><\/p>

Reflect on loved ones who have passed as you go through the main character\u2019s desperate attempt to ignore the fact that his father is dying.<\/p>

And call a loved one.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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R. B. Wood March 2020<\/em><\/h4>\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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\n\t\t\t\t\tDear Dad<\/span>\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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My father died of cancer the week before Christmas, while I rode in an Uber heading home from my appointment at the hospital. There are moments in life that are remembered so clearly that the details are forever etched in the lobes of the brain. This is why some people can recall the smells around them when they heard that Kennedy was shot. Or recall the exact lyric being sung on the radio when the announcer broke in to report the\u00a0Challenger<\/em>\u00a0disaster. For my moment, I was slumped in the back of a Corolla that smelled of cheap burgers, body odor, and cigarettes. There must have been nine of those little air freshener trees hanging from the rearview mirror: silent, impotent sentinels who had lost the fight for aromatic dominance to the onslaught of pungent dissonance. It was midafternoon, but the sky was dark with clouds threatening a snowy evening while the cold air hung lifelessly, anticipating the coming storm.<\/p>

I shivered.<\/p>

My phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen\u2014it was my brother, in New York.\u00a0Probably checking up on me<\/em>. My wife must have told him about the appointment today, despite the fact that I\u2019d asked her not to say anything\u2014my brother had been taking care of Dad for three months now and didn\u2019t need any more shit on his plate.<\/p>

\u201cHey, Danny. It\u2019s Stevie,\u201d he said, his voice sounding strained and cracked. \u201cDad\u2019s gone.\u201d<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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9\/16<\/p>

\u00a0Dear Dad,<\/p>

I figured that, since there won\u2019t be a phone in your room for a while, a letter would be the best way for us to \u201cchat.\u201d\u00a0Stevie said he\u2019d read them to you until we can go back to our phone conversations.<\/p>

The trip back to Boston was as long and crazy as ever. I\u2019ve never understood why people make fun of drivers from New York or New Jersey, when in reality it\u2019s the nut-job motorists in Connecticut that should all be locked up.\u00a0Nevertheless, made it back in time for dinner.<\/p>

Gina had gone shopping while I was away and picked up some fresh lobster raviolis (or \u201clobstah\u201d as they say in \u201cBah-stin\u201d), and we spent dinner talking about the weekend.\u00a0Gina grilled me on everything your doctor said and fussed about your vital signs\u2014I told her how much better you seemed the morning after your surgery.\u00a0She said that you are showing good progress, but the doc\u2019s plan for physical therapy is a great indication of how to get you home fastest.<\/p>

I\u2019m sorry I had to go back to Boston, and I wish I could\u2019ve stayed\u2014not just to visit you but to help take care of you as well.\u00a0Life really isn\u2019t fair sometimes.<\/p>

I\u2019m looking at my work schedule (it\u2019s about 6:30 in the morning and I\u2019m sitting in the testing center for the big project I\u2019m running) and I\u2019m thankful the day is busy, but really not caring about any of what needs to be done here today.\u00a0I\u2019ll check in with Stevie each day to see how you are doing, and I\u2019m trying to get back to New York as soon as I can.<\/p>

Please listen to the doctors and the nurses\u2014I know they will be asking you to do things you might not be ready for, but they want to see you get better as fast as possible. And to be honest, the doctors wouldn\u2019t be asking you to do things they didn\u2019t think were possible.<\/p>

Well, the phone has started to ring and testers are beginning to arrive into the lab, so I have to close now. I can\u2019t wait to hear how your day was and hope you\u2019re feeling a bit better.<\/p>

Love you, Dad!<\/p>

Danny<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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I was silent for a moment. Focused on my own health problems, I didn\u2019t expect those words from my brother. I knew what Stevie said, but I couldn\u2019t form the image that went with his cracking voice.<\/p>

A horn blared in the distance.\u00a0 I blinked once.<\/p>

Dad<\/em>\u2026<\/p>

To my brother, I finally asked, \u201cWhat do you mean, \u2018gone?\u2019\u201d<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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9\/23<\/p>

Dear Dad,<\/p>

I feel like Hawkeye in M.A.S.H. every time I type \u201cDear Dad.\u201d\u00a0Except for the war zone I\u2019m in has cubicles instead of tents. And there are NO hot nurses here, and witty repartee is frowned upon.<\/p>

Although I did use the \u201cmustache joke\u201d yesterday.<\/p>

Gina and I woke up this morning to find a degree.\u00a0Yes, just one degree on the outdoor thermometer.\u00a0Coldest day in September for a long time. Even when I went outside to walk Jack, the poor pooch looked up at me as if to say, \u201cYou\u2019re kidding, right? How about I just poop in the basement and we\u2019ll call it a day?\u201d Needless to say, even at the ripe old age of seventeen, once he put his nose in the snow and found an interesting scent, he was fine. Dogs do have their priorities, I guess.<\/p>

Stevie told me the chest tube was taken out yesterday\u2014a great step! I checked with Gina, and the little heart arrhythmia was most probably an after-effect of the anesthesia. I\u2019m glad they are monitoring you so closely, though, and I can\u2019t wait for you to be in a room where you are allowed a telephone!<\/p>

I never did get a chance to look at the pictures at the house\u2014you know, the ones of you up in New Hampshire. I know where they are and will make a point of going through them with Stevie next time I\u2019m down.<\/p>

I spoke with Brandon and Rachel last night and they both send you their love.\u00a0Brandon wants to see you when I have him in January, but I told him that we should let you get better first. Then he proceeded to shout \u201cDon\u2019t ask to see Grandpa until he\u2019s better!\u201d at his sister. But they both are looking forward to seeing you in the New Year once you are up and about.<\/p>

It\u2019s about ten to eight in the morning now, and I have to jump into my third meeting of the day. It\u2019s crazy here, but Stevie keeps me updated as to how you are doing. I think about you all day and I hope you are feeling a bit better. Please listen to the nurses and doctors\u2014we all want you home as soon as possible.<\/p>

Love you, Dad!<\/p>

Danny<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\u201cGone,\u201d he said, and started to cry. My brother is fifty-six years old, and I hadn\u2019t heard him cry since that time I needed my wisdom teeth pulled back in \u201876. He thought his little brother was going to die. I, on the other hand, remember thinking I was going to get a really good present. As soon as I\u2019d woken up, my brother had handed me a \u201cTom Seaver\u201d red, white, and blue baseball glove.<\/p>

\u201cDad got this for you!\u201d he said with a squeak.<\/p>

Now Dad was gone.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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9\/30<\/p>

Dear Dad-<\/p>

The project I\u2019m running at the moment is a very large financial and manufacturing systems installation. The details, quite frankly, are boring. But the fun of a project of such scale is the people involved in making this work.<\/p>

For example: the lead accountant on the project is a man a little older than Stevie.\u00a0And like your \u201cNumber One Son,\u201d he is in great shape and very intelligent. But for months I couldn\u2019t help but wonder where I\u2019d seen him before. I figured it was another project or at some professional conference\u2026but I didn\u2019t want to ask. So I did what any computer geek would do\u2026I Googled him.<\/p>

Well, Tom may have been an accountant for decades, but what I found was very interesting. Back in the early eighties, Tom Grant played baseball for the Chicago Cubs. He was an outfielder and pinch hitter with a very unremarkable career\u2026but I knew his name somehow. How did I know his name?<\/p>

So last night, I finally dug around in the attic for my old baseball cards. And there he was. I actually had his rookie card.<\/p>

At the end of the contract here I\u2019m planning on asking him to sign it. But until then, he\u2019s my accounting lead.<\/p>

The world is a strange place.<\/p>

I hear they are bringing in a specialist to see you tomorrow. Do you think it\u2019s one of those \u201clet\u2019s make money off the old guy\u201d things? I hope it\u2019s nothing serious. I miss you and I really am trying to schedule some time to come back down to visit. Until then\u2014I\u2019ll keep sending notes through Stevie and hope that you are getting a bit better each day.<\/p>

Until next week, all my love,<\/p>

Danny<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\u201cI\u2019ll leave as soon as I can get home and pack,\u201d I said over my brother\u2019s breathless sobs. I\u2019ve never been good at \u2018feelings\u2019 and I just didn\u2019t know what to say to make my brother stop crying. \u201cIt\u2019ll take me about four or five hours to get to New York. Soon as I\u2019m packed, I\u2019ll\u2026shit. Sorry. I forgot. I need to do a food shop for the pet sitter, first. Just a few things at the grocery store, but then I\u2019ll jump in the car and call you, okay?\u201d<\/p>

I clicked the \u2018end\u2019 button.<\/p>

I\u2019m not even sure my brother heard me.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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10\/10<\/p>

Dear Dad,<\/p>

\u00a0Sundays are shopping days for the week. And I always have a plan.<\/p>

This last bit makes Gina roll her eyes.<\/p>

But I find it important, living in a big city, to plan the shopping trip very carefully. A difference of ten minutes could lead to parking nightmares and store aisle gridlock.<\/p>

First, there\u2019s the list. The list is crafted to maximize efficiency and minimize time weaving around crying children and people\u2014people who stop in the middle to socialize, compare ingredients or otherwise stand between the checkout line and me.<\/p>

Timing, as I hinted at earlier, is critical. Go too early, and you hit the diehards and the dawdlers. Too late, and the pious church people will block lanes with their holy milk runs. But you have to weigh these two enemy combatant groups with the opportunity to get a primo parking space.<\/p>

The Holy Grail of a parking spot is across from the main exit. It has a pedestrian crosswalk, extra wide sidewalk, and places to park your carts to load up your car. It was one of these spaces that I pulled the car into this morning.<\/p>

The looks I received as I stood outside the car and admired my good fortune could only be described as pure envy. I took my time walking through the coveted crosswalk, smiling and waving at the cars that, by law, had to stop to allow me free passage. I couldn\u2019t bask in my success for long, however. The Church People would be arriving in thirty minutes.<\/p>

I suffered a small setback\u2014a cart with a bum wheel. I abandoned the vehicle at once, and obtained a suitable replacement.\u00a0<\/p>

Then, I took out the list.<\/p>

True to plan, I loaded the cart quickly. A minor altercation was avoided in the bread aisle when the Pepperidge Farm Delivery Man temporarily blocked both sides, instead of leaving one side free. He was a new kid. I let his gross ignorance of protocol slide this time.<\/p>

I was third in line at the counter when I saw it. A line of cars began to flow into the parking lot. It was\u2026\u201cThe Catholics.\u201d<\/p>

A small bead of sweat ran down my forehead as I fumbled with my cash to pay the bill. \u201cJust a few minutes more,\u201d I mumbled.<\/p>

Back outside, I popped the trunk of the car and began to load the groceries. Two cars pulled into the lane, one on either side of me. Both put their blinkers on laying claim to my space.<\/p>

As they gestured at one another, both insisting that they got there first. I got into the car and left for home. I have no idea if there was bloodshed over the space.<\/p>

Another shopping day successfully executed. I could breathe easy until next Sunday.<\/p>

Love you, Dad!<\/p>

Danny<\/p>

P.S. Liver Cancer\u2014what treatment options did they give you? Stevie wasn\u2019t too clear on that\u2026<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\u201c\u2026not bad, nothing to worry about. I\u2019m fine. We\u2019ll talk about my appointment as soon I get home.\u201d<\/p>

How like dad. Why didn\u2019t you tell her? She\u2019s your wife, she deserves to know.<\/em><\/p>

\u201cRight! Make a right here, bud!\u201d<\/p>

My frustration with this driver is mounting. I can tell he senses it by his nervous glances at me in the review mirror. Fuck him and his rank piece of shit Corolla.<\/p>

Gina knows me too well. She reads my mood and switches the conversation effortlessly from concerned wife to practical partner. It\u2019s one of the reasons I love her.<\/p>

\u201cYeah,\u201d I answer, relieved at discussing anything else. \u201cI\u2019ll be heading out tonight. Would you mind finding someone to watch the cats? I\u2019ll get you a shuttle flight tomorrow night from Logan. The ticket will be waiting for you at the counter. Honestly, I don\u2019t care as long as whoever it is feeds them and makes a legitimate attempt at cleaning the damn litter boxes. Yeah, love you, too.\u201d<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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10\/24<\/p>

Dear Dad,<\/p>

I have to type quietly, or they\u2019ll hear.<\/p>

Let me explain. Gina and I adore our cats. She had two when we met, and we have three now. And I\u2019ve come to realize that these little murder-machines are poised to take over the world.<\/p>

I can tell from the look in their yellow, calculating eyes that they have nicknames for Gina and I. Gina\u2019s \u201ccat name,\u201d as near as I can tell, is \u201cShe who feeds us and whose mind we can bend to our will.\u201d My cat name is \u201cHe who will be the first disposed of during the rebellion.\u201d<\/p>

So it is Saturday morning. Although we have a massive to-do list today, Gina and I were looking forward to sleeping in a bit. \u201cWere,\u201d is the operative phrase. About 4:00 AM, there must have been a signal from the cat overlords to begin singing immediately. And by sing, I mean yowl at the top of their lungs. They sound a little like one of the pop stars on my daughter\u2019s iPod. The second phase of their attack came when Evil Cat #2 jumped on the bed and settled down exactly where Evil Cat #1 wanted to be. This resulted in a five minute \u201cexplanation\u201d from Evil Cat #1 as to why Evil Cat #2 needed to either move or be mauled.<\/p>

But neither my wife nor I moved. We pretended to be asleep.<\/p>

An hour later, Evil Cat #3 decided that the water dish needed to have its contents spread upon on the floor, where by Evil Cat #2 decided it was time to expel a hairball at high velocity toward my slippers.<\/p>

At this point I figured I\u2019d better get up or I\u2019d find my poor seventeen-year-old dog trussed up and ready for sacrifice to the Cat Overlords.<\/p>

Quietly as I could, I cleaned up the hairball by stepping on it, and then proceed to slide across the kitchen floor as I\u2019d forgotten about the overturned water dish.<\/p>

I fed the Evil Cats, cleaned up, and made the coffee. Things have settled down and all the feline monstrosities are quiet.<\/p>

I figure Gina might sleep for another hour and I can enjoy a cup of coffee in peace.<\/p>

So quietly\u2026VERY quietly\u2026I type.<\/p>

I love you, Dad!\u00a0<\/p>

Danny\u00a0<\/p>

P.S. The dog decided to stick his head in a litter box while Evil Cat #3 was using it. Needless to say, Gina is up now.<\/p>

P.P.S Work has been hell. Can\u2019t leave at the moment. I\u2019m sure you understand. You have already survived three cancers, I\u2019m sure you\u2019ll kick this one\u2019s ass, too!!<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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I hear horns, and see the blue lights of some sort of police activity ahead.<\/p>

\u201cGod damn it,\u201d I say softly to no one. My driver takes it as an invitation.<\/p>

\u201cWell, we know what the hold up is, am I right?\u201d said the back of the head in front of me. \u201cShouldn\u2019t be long now. At least the car is warm and we weren\u2019t involved in the accident, am I right? Lucky break for us. You ready for Christmas? Wife finished shopping ages ago\u2026but I gotta pick up something at the packie later.\u201d He mimes taking a shot and laughs. \u201cSome liquid Christmas cheer, am I right?\u201d<\/p>

Strobing colors bounce around me as we pass the accident. I don\u2019t answer the driver, my mind spinning on to-do lists and the long drive ahead.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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11\/14<\/p>

Dear Dad,<\/p>

Stevie was telling me about the cheerleader you have for your radiation treatments. I\u2019m so proud you haven\u2019t tossed a bedpan at her!<\/p>

Because I have one of those cheerleaders here at work. And although I would LOVE to throw the contents of a bedpan at her, apparently that\u2019s frowned upon in professional circles.<\/p>

Her name is \u201cLisa,\u201d (why are their names always Lisa or Deirdre or Monica?) and she\u2019s from Boulder. She is one of those \u201chappy all the time\u201d people who shoot rainbows out of their butts, and flowers grow behind every step they take.<\/p>

In short, I can\u2019t stand her.<\/p>

I\u2019m running a financial system and manufacturing system upgrade here. I\u2019m worried about shipping a product the day these systems go live. And yet Lisa wants me to pick the best logo for the project and the colors for the training room.<\/p>

I can\u2019t get millions of dollars in inventory to reconcile, yet she wants me to pick dinner locations and menus for the testing team.<\/p>

And it doesn\u2019t matter what\u2019s going on in the real world, her world consists of candy-covered goodness and sparkly singing angels.<\/p>

But, all fluff aside, what she\u2019s doing is\u2014in her way\u2014trying to get things moving forward. And the colors of the training room do look nice.<\/p>

I love you\u2026and I know radiation is tough, but we all want you home as soon as possible. Hang in there\u2026once the kids\u2019 visit at Thanksgiving is over, I\u2019ll be there. Promise.<\/p>

Danny<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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It\u2019s two hours later, and I\u2019m in my own car heading to New York, thinking about that red, white, and blue mitt. I know it was 1976 when Dad bought it\u2014and the other kids teased me about my gaudy patriotic glove. But I loved it. I was the first thing I owned that I had to take care of. I cleaned it after every dusty ball game and kept it well oiled for storage in the off-season. It was one of the first lessons I learned from Dad. \u201cTake care of the things you own, and they\u2019ll take care of you, Danny. Remember that.\u201d<\/p>

I remember, Dad.<\/em><\/p>

I\u2019m somewhere on the Mass Pike when my cell goes off. It\u2019s not the normal ring tone, but a digital version of Sinatra\u2019s\u00a0New York, New York.<\/em>\u00a0It was my dad\u2019s favorite song, and that ring tone was only associated with his home phone.<\/p>

\u201cHello?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cIt\u2019s Stevie. Where are you?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cI\u2019m somewhere in Connecticut,\u201d I lied. \u201cTraffic is rough. You okay?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cYeah. You?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cTrying to process it.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cYeah. Gina with you?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cShe\u2019ll fly down tomorrow, she\u2019s getting her stuff together and some extra things for me. My phone played Sinatra.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cMy phone. I have Dad\u2019s house number setup to play Sinatra when it rings.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cNew York, New York<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cHe loved that number. Always said Sinatra scared away the hippies, remember?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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12\/6<\/p>

Dear Dad,<\/p>

The Hippies are in town this week.<\/p>

Remember that cheerleader, Lisa, from Boulder? She\u2019s spawned hippie-clones and we don\u2019t get along.<\/p>

Why is that? Well, my job is about getting the work done. For example, I\u2019ll have meetings regarding\u00a0high defects with the system we are installing, map a plan out to fix, execute the plan, and fix the problem (moving onto the next issue).<\/p>

The granola people would:<\/p>

      • Order food<\/li>
      • Ask how people feel about the problem<\/li>
      • Understand the stress and angst surrounding the problem<\/li>
      • Order some meditation on the problem<\/li>
      • Pass out some granola<\/li><\/ul><\/li><\/ul><\/li><\/ul>

        We just have different ways of doing things. I\u2019m in at work at 6:00 AM, preparing for the day and lining up activities. They\u2019ll float in at 10ish and bring doughnuts. Or granola. Or donuts covered in granola.<\/p>

        My biggest fear is the lead hippie brings in his guitar. I kid you not, last time they were all here, there was apparently a guitar and songs. I was out that week at the manufacturing facility in Atlanta.<\/p>

        If that happens, I\u2019m going to request Sinatra. Hippies hate Sinatra. Did he ever sing a song called \u201cShut Your Pie Hole and Get Back to Work?\u201d If anyone would know, it\u2019d be you.<\/p>

        Work is work and it\u2019s a necessary evil but I really wish I were in New York visiting you right now. Gina and I are mapping out the schedule to see if we can come down later this month for Christmas. We\u2019d both like to see you.<\/p>

        Love you, Dad!<\/p>

        Danny<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

        \n\t\t\t\t
        \n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

        \u201cYou call your kids?\u201d asks Stevie a little later. I wish he\u2019d stop calling.<\/p>

        \u201cGina\u2019s doing it and calling the rest of the family.\u201d<\/p>

        \u201cOkay. When do you think you\u2019ll be here?\u201d<\/p>

        \u201cDunno. Traffic is bad, and I\u2019m surrounded by Massholes. I\u2019m gonna start running some of these jackwagons off the road soon.\u201d<\/p>

        \u201cHeh,\u201d said Stevie. \u201cDad\u2019s favorite word.\u201d<\/p>

        \u201cWorks, though. I need to focus. Check back in about an hour?\u201d<\/p>

        \u201cSure. Come to Dad\u2019s house. I set up our old room for you.\u201d<\/p>

        \u201cOkay. Thanks.\u201d<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

        \n\t\t\t\t
        \n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

        12\/17<\/p>

        Dear Dad,<\/p>

        I was going to write today about how work resembles a kindergarten, but the snows have pre-empted that letter.<\/p>

        I know I live in New England and snow is just a part of winter up here. I accept that one must be cautious on the road when the snow is falling.<\/p>

        But there is another reason to be careful.\u00a0The jackwagons. Or \u201cMassholes,\u201d if you prefer. A Masshole will never use blinkers for fear of letting the rest of us drivers know where they are going.<\/p>

        There are three types of Masshole driver during a snowstorm.\u00a0The first type is the \u201cHazard Masshole.\u201d<\/p>

        The Hazard is the guy (it\u2019s ALWAYS a guy) driving a little crap car with its hazard lights on going about fifteen miles per hour. Now I respect going slow in a snow storm, and this sort of person wouldn\u2019t be on my list except for the fact that they \u2018drift\u2019 while going fifteen miles an hour. And by drift, I mean: over curbs, medians and between lanes. They also drift through stop signs and red lights. They have the cruise control set at fifteen and they\u2019ll be damned if they are going to stop for such meaningless distractions as school buses or old ladies with walkers.<\/p>

        The second type of Masshole is the \u201cYoungster.\u201d This Masshole can be either male or female, drives a fast, sporty car, and rockets along at Olympic bobsled speeds. The key is to see them coming far enough in the rearview mirror to get over as they slide past you screaming \u201cYahoo!\u201d before they messily embed themselves into a snow plow with a driver that wasn\u2019t diligently watching for \u201cDeathwish Monty\u201d in their mirrors.<\/p>

        Then there is the WORST Masshole. The \u201cSoccer Mom.\u201d Usually behind the wheel of an SUV or Minivan, they are on the phone while doing their nails and keeping their brood of spoiled brats from murdering each other in the back seat. They lane change randomly, tailgate, and wander between the lanes looking for an opening to get ten feet further along than you. Once they see a gap the size of a dime, they gun the engine and go for it like a hobo on a ham sandwich.<\/p>

        By the way, great news! Gina and I will be there on the 20th<\/sup>! All booked. Stevie told me about them moving you home with a fulltime nurse. Hopefully this means you are well enough to celebrate Christmas with us! I even convinced my ex to bring your grandchildren up\u2014they should be there Christmas Eve. Gina and I will pick up the turkey.<\/p>

        Speaking of turkeys, tt\u2019s strange that after\u00a0six years of college, three years of certification training, and over thirty years in the computer industry, the best training I\u2019ve had to prepare me for this project is raising your grandchildren.<\/p>

        I need to go\u2026some turkey just called me to complain that the printer isn\u2019t working and they don\u2019t know what to do. I need to get them some sparkles and glue to play with while I call the number for printer repair\u2014posted in large letters above the broken printer.<\/p>

        Then maybe I\u2019ll schedule naptime for everyone.<\/p>

        Love you! See you soon!!<\/p>

        Danny<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

        \n\t\t\t\t
        \n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

        My brother called me again when I was 15 minutes from my dad\u2019s house. I answered the phone before\u00a0New York, New York<\/em>\u00a0hit the second measure.<\/p>

        \u201cJust about there,\u201d I said.<\/p>

        \u201cI was getting the room ready for you and I found a box of things under the bed. Looks like Dad\u2019s nurse put it there\u2014I can\u2019t imagine Dad was able to do it. Your name was on it.\u201d<\/p>

        \u201cWhat\u2019s in it?\u201d<\/p>

        \u201cA bunch of your old stuff. And a note.\u201d<\/p>

        \u201cFifteen minutes,\u201d I said and hung up.<\/p>

        I pulled into the driveway of the house I grew up in. The old, worn asphalt had familiar heaves and imperfections that I could have described from memory.<\/p>

        The headlights caught the drifting snow and cast strange shadows across the garage door. He built this place in the sixties with his own hands\u2014took him nearly two years. He loved this house. The crazy son-of-a-bitch reroofed the place a few years ago for his 80th<\/sup>\u00a0birthday. He did it all by himself. The stubborn jerk.<\/p>

        When I finally looked at the front door, it was open and my brother was standing there. His hair was nearly gone, now\u2014and what was left was a white, untidy fringe. The silhouette he struck looked so much like my father that, for a moment\u2026<\/p>

        I left my bag in my trunk. I walked up the steps and hugged my brother.<\/p>

        His eyes were swollen and red.<\/p>

        He was holding a handwritten note.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

        \n\t\t\t\t
        \n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

        December 18th<\/p>

        Dear Son-<\/p>

        One of the nurses was good enough to write this for me. Forgive me for not writing myself, but I have too many tubes and wires in my arms and it hurts to move them. You told me a while back about all the cancer tests they were doing on you. All fathers want their son to grow up in his own image, but I would have been happier if you joined the navy rather then join me as a cancer survivor. Let\u2019s hope everything is negative, but if not, there are two things I want to say to you and I\u2019m not sure how much of me will be left to say them to you when you arrive.<\/p>

        First, you are a fighter\u2014always have been. If you have cancer, you will beat it, I\u2019m sure of it. Kick its ass, son.<\/p>

        Second, thank you for your notes. They were all very funny and I always look forward to a new one. You have some real comic talent. You\u2019re not as good as Dave Barry, but you should go and try that instead of the project management shit you\u2019re doing now.<\/p>

        I asked the nurse to put a box of your things together. I found your old mitt and I had it oiled it for you.<\/p>

        Love,
        Dad<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

        \n\t\t\t\t
        \n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

        \u201cYou okay?\u201d my brother asked.<\/p>

        Tell him.<\/em><\/p>

        \u201cI have cancer,\u201d I said and began to cry.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

        \n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
        <\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
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        \n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

        Introduction This was a pretty personal piece for me. My dad passed away from four different types of cancer in March of 2016. I cobbled together this epistolary story from […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"site-sidebar-layout":"no-sidebar","site-content-layout":"page-builder","ast-site-content-layout":"","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"disabled","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"disabled","footer-sml-layout":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"default","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-3218","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/rbwood.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/3218","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/rbwood.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/rbwood.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rbwood.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rbwood.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3218"}],"version-history":[{"count":25,"href":"https:\/\/rbwood.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/3218\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3392,"href":"https:\/\/rbwood.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/3218\/revisions\/3392"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/rbwood.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3218"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}