George-isms
Submitted by Debbie Newsham on 2008, August 21 - 10:23.
My Dad cracks me up. Evenbefore his dementia set in, he was a very funny man. Looking back throughphotos of my Dad, I note that he's laughing, has a wry grin or is posing in acompletely inappropriate manner. As a child, for various reasons, I did not seethis side of him. But now that our roles and titles are somewhat blurred, I geta peek at the guy inside.
Here are a few of myfavorite George-isms:
"You have to leave tocome back."
Dad was acting antsy.Something was off kilter. Trying to figure out what was wrong, I opened ourconversation with a "How was your day?" Then, I followed where he led me. Hissimple statement (above) at first amused me, but then I was struck by theinnate wisdom in his words. Whatdad was telling me was that he had gone to his "social club," which is reallyadult day care, and was glad to be home.
"I can read the writing,but not write the writing."
We were going throughChristmas cards and enjoying some old ones. (For some reason, my mom savedevery card and we were actually looking at cards from the 40s and 50s). We'dlook at the cards, laugh, and Dad would tell stories about the senders. Butwhen we turned to preparing our own Christmas cards, Dad sat back. I asked ifhe wanted to write a few and was told the above. I sat stunned, blinked, andthought it through. It took a few minutes for dim me to wrap my head aroundwhat he was saying. Then I laughed and said, so be it.
"Do you know where youare?" "Yes...here."
This is a favorite. Dad'sdoctor, trying to see how oriented he was, asked Dad if he knew where he was.Without missing a beat, Dad said "yes," paused, then said "here." I lost it. Iwas laughed so hard I was in danger of hurting myself. How can you argue with that?
"I think I liked my wife,but have not seen her lately. She must be gone."
This is said without rancor,without fear-and only a wee bit of wonder. What makes this a "George-ism" isthat he pretty much says the same thing about his drink, his cookie, his icecream. I'm not sure how my mom would feel about being lumped in with food anddrink, but in my world being on a par with ice cream is pretty darn nifty.
"I don't know why shesays that."
This is the universalstatement that proves I am confused. Dad and I will be going along, perfectlyin sync, and then foolish me tries to introduce some reality into our life.Heaven forbid! And truly I am the one that gets hung up about details andperceptions. Dad knows where he is (here), what day it is (today), etc. He doesnot need to get bogged down in details. Sometimes when I'm on the phone or we're out in the "real world," I geta little too concrete. Dad shakes his head, smiles and virtually pats me on thehead and says, "Poor thing. She gets confused and I don't know why she says that."