At 91+, Dad is bright and mobile. He works the newspaper's puzzle page every morning--usually by 7 AM! That means he uses his walker to go outside to get the paper, and uses Google to find clues/answers that stump him. This activity and all the daily life he lives are remarkably back-to-normal less than a month after a fall in which he broke both his left foot and his right collar bone. Now that's a God Thing for sure.
I was involved in a subtle tug-of-war with my Dad this weekend. He loves his crossword puzzles like a dog loves a bone. And I enjoy working crossword puzzles too. I was definitely sure that the newspaper puzzle page along with the affixing clipboard and pink mechanical pencil were all off limits. So I dug in the bottom of a basket to find an old crossword puzzle book and began to work. Setting my puzzle down briefly to start another load of laundry, I didn't realize it was up for grabs. So Dad found it, picked it up, and was working on it with great relish the next time I passed through the room with folded towels. I'd lost my bone!
Okay, so I rummaged through the basket again, found yet another untouched puzzle book, and settled in to work the Across and Down clues. This time I took it with me to my bedroom! But Sunday morning when I got up and greeted Dad, he didn't have his clipboard, pencil, puzzle page, little electronic Wordmaster, or either one of his two Crossword puzzle dictionaries in front of him. "I don't do the Sunday puzzle. See--it's too big to fit on my clipboard. I never do the Sunday puzzle," he said. "Okay," I thought, "everyone needs a little Sabbath rest. This must be Dad's day off."
In a minute or so I asked permission to use the clipboard, and Dad said that was fine. I was able to fold the Sunday puzzle in such a way that the whole thing, clues and all, fit on the securing surface of brown chipboard. And I set it on the kitchen counter while preparing Dad's breakfast. Half Cheerios and half Apple Cinnamon Cheerios poured on top of one-half sliced banana and topped with 2 chopped cooked prunes; one slice cinnamon bread buttered and spread with cream cheese, toasted--or should I say warmed--on #3 of the toaster oven; coffee--set up the afternoon before--freshly brewed and poured into the cup (with spoon in it) sitting directly to the left of the pot on the small black rubber square, with sugar.
While the details of the breakfast unfolded, Dad stood at the counter, and with his subtle "Let's see once . . .," began to work. "One Across is 'BEADS' . . . 'Mardi Gras accessories,' and One Down 'Volkswagen type' would be 'BUG.'" After breakfast, he again stood over the puzzle and we worked together on a few clues. I even asked out loud if he wanted to work the puzzle with me, and he thought that was a great idea. "Your Three Across has to be 'SIRE' so my One Down can't be 'BUG,'" he mused. With my suggestion that BUG become BUS, which is definitely a Volkswagen type, we were actually collaborating.
In a few minutes, he took the clipboard with our prized bone attached, down the hall on the seat of his walker. "I need to Google a couple of these," he said as he sailed past.
In about thirty minutes, he emerged from his little office beaming, handed me the clipboard, and announced, "I finished the puzzle!" I was shocked. "Wow, Dad, how did you work it that fast?!" In his best calm, meek voice, he explained, "The LA Times website has the completed puzzle, and I just looked it up and filled it in!" He was so proud of it that I could only be slightly miffed. "You fink!" I said with a smile and a hug. Good job, Dad.
The point is, this dear man--who, Lord willing, will be 92 in three months--is vital of mind and body. Sure, he needs help with "activities of daily living." Grooming and dressing, complete with compression hose are a two-man chore each morning. Though laundry, driving, shopping, and cooking are Alma's jobs, Dad steps up as much as his arthritic hands and hips allow. He empties the dishwasher, collects the mail, pays the bills and checks online for balanced bank account totals, plays board games with visiting grandchildren, programs his taped television shows, Skypes his great grand daughters in Brussels, and loves his wife and family with teary blue eyes.
And he wins 3-0 at Tug-of-War too. Praise God!
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