Quotes and more quotes

Dad was always known for his love of language as well as the sound of his own voice. And I'm trying to collect some of his more colorful quotes. Here are two to start: This first one I'm sure he was talking to Lil' John and Dad said "Never trust doctors. Who else would take your money and then unplug you." and He told me on numerous occasions that "If you can't cure it with surgery, you're not really sick." Anyone have anything to add??

Not One to Complain

Dad in his final years was in a lot of pain with all of his medical issues but he never said a word about it; just watching him move about was evidence enough. I remember a trip we took to the local CVS and when we got inside dad  got a cart, not to shop but to use as a walker. He got about fifteen feet into the store, in the candy aisle when he had to stop. At the time I thought he was just buying some candy but as he stood there and stood there I started to think that maybe he was overwhelmed by all of the choices now available in Hershey Kisses and then as he continued to stand there that he had gone as far as he could go and was simply resting. We did eventually make to the pharmacy counter in the back of the store but it took about fifteen minutes with several more stops. The one issue dad did discuss was the problem of constipation caused by all of his medications. Most of these conversations took place over the phone on my weekly calls to Geneva. I suggested eating more chocolate covered raisins not for their great taste but their medicinal qualities. Dad thought that was a great idea, only he was no longer driving and couldn't go out and get any. Mom wasn't going anywhere by herself by this time so I asked several of the people who lived nearby to please go get some chocolate covered raisins for dad. My pleas fell on deaf ears. No matter who I asked they were unable to get the raisins. After a couple of weeks of listening to dad talk about this issue and not being able to get anyone to help I went out bought a bag of chocolate covered raisins and took them to Fedex and shipped them over night to Geneva for $40. He got them the next day and the day after I got the phone call every kid dreads... Dad was on the phone telling me that he had had the "most spectacular BM" that morning. It's the little things in life that make us happiest or even a big one every now and then.  

If It's on TV It Must be Right.

On our first adventure to Russia and when you travel with Dad it is an adventure, Dad got caught in a little jam. He knew he was speaking at a symposium at one of the big research institutes that surround Moscow. It was also a place that he had visited many times before and he was very familiar with all of the major players. What Dad apparently didn't know is that the institute's director was retiring and Dad would be speaking at the retirement celebration. No big deal for Dad. He could just add a few more bits of praise here and there and everyone would be happy. Dad discovered his dilemma when the first speaker got up and went on and on praising the retiring director and then presented him with a gift; as did the second speaker and then the third... Did this get the best of Dad? Only for a second. He open his briefcase rummaged around and pulled out an expensive looking pen in a nice case, handed me the briefcase and headed for the stage. Now, Dad was the only presenter who spoke in English so I was able to understand what he was saying but not quite believe what I was hearing. Dad said all of the expected things about the director and the wonderful job he had done and what a great service to humanity and so on and so forth. When it came time to present his gift, Dad really went to town. The pen it turns out was from Harvard University and Dad was sent to present it to the director on behalf of Harvard which wanted to also recognize the director's great contributions to science and medicine. The pen was the one gift that the director kept close at hand at all times and left the presentation with still in his hand; the other gifts were left piled on the stage.

When Dad and I were finally away from the crowds I asked him where the pen came from. It did actually come from Harvard. Dad had received it as part of a pitch to Alumni to help raise funds for the University. The rest of the story? Pure Dad.

When we got back to the hotel that night the evening news was playing, including coverage of the symposium. The only clip they showed? That would be Dad presenting the special pen to the special director. Don't believe anything you see on TV. I should know.

Chris

A Well Read Man...

I had the opportunity to travel with Dad twice to Russia, formerly known as the Soviet Union, as Dad preferred to refer to it; he also insisted in calling St. Petersburg, Leningrad, it was his little inside joke with the Russians. On both trips it was Dad, myself, a driver and the translator so there was always plenty of time for Dad to quiz the poor translator. On this particular day the subject was great Russian authors. They waxed poetic about Gogol, Goncharov, Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky... the list went on and on. Finally they seemed to remember that I was in the car and Dad asked my who I thought was the greatest Russian author. Huh? Thankfully, every now and then Dad's gene for BS seems to kick in with me and I quickly answered "What about Mr. Chekhov?" Dad and the translator were both stunned that they had both missed listing Mr. Chekhov among the best. They were both very impressed that after their long list I was able to add a name they had forgotten. I never did confess to Dad that while he was talking about great Russian authors I was talking about the character from Star Trek.

Chris

 In keeping with the theme of BS and full disclosure, I had to Google the names of all of those Russian authors.

Closing in on Mom's Title

I've now had the mailbox in front of my house knocked down for the fourth time last night. Now I don't have to contend with snowplows here in Florida like Mom did in Geneva so I hope a snow guard for my mailbox won't be necessary. Of course, the snow guard we had installed didn't seem to do much to help save Mom's mailbox... especially when it got knocked down in July. Maybe Mom had the same reckless redneck with the big pick up truck living across the street from her that I have now.

One of those stories.....

I don't even remember what brought on this memory of Dad but I thought I should share it.... before it slipped away again. When I first moved to Tampa I was working with a sportscaster who was a practical joker and a know-it-all; a perfect combination, for a sportscaster. On Dad's first visit to the station I asked him to help me on a practical joke for the sportscaster. I told Dad that he was going to be a former head coach of the Ohio State Buckeyes football team. I quickly explained that he, Dad, was the Athletic Director at Ohio State when Woody Hayes was fired and in the month before Earl Bruce was hired Dad was the acting head coach. I don't know where I come up with these wild ideas but I'm sure you could make an educated guess. So, into the newsroom we went, introductions all around and when we met the sportscaster he didn't really believe me at first but Dad who I thought didn't know anything about football, let alone Ohio State football was off and running. Dad named names, he threw around dates, he re-called rules and before my very eyes Dad turned into a head football coach. He sold the story hook line and sinker. When we finally told the sportscaster the truth he didn't believe that either. Brain Surgeon my ass.

Careful of what you make fun of....

When dad moved to Geneva and started frequenting the local McDonald's I made an effort to get him to hang out at a better establishment; God help me what that might be in Geneva. Constant kidding and not so subtle suggestions that he find a more suitable place to spend his days "working" were unsuccessful. I thought about my failed efforts today while I was sitting there with my ice tea in hand, stack of newspapers at my side in the local..... McDonald's; that's right I've become dad, minus the smarts, money and degree. And unlike dad's social aspect of going to McDonald's to talk to people I go for the exact opposite reason. No one talks to me and there is nothing to do except read... and re-fill my cup from time to time.

Chris