Chapter 6: Testing Dad

It was the morning of Thanksgiving on a nice Denver day. I was slumped on the couch with my favorite CD on repeat. Soon a friend would arrive to take me to the "orphan" dinner. I called my Dad in San Diego. He asked what was new? Did it snow? How much? I knew he was grasping at questions to ask me and I let his struggle float through the phone lines. When he asked again I considered lying to him like he has lied to my brother and I.

“Well, I had a finger amputated because I got it caught in the ski lift.”

I knew that saying I got a finger caught in a ski lift made no sense, but that was where the sentence went when it came out of my mouth. I wanted to test him, to see what he would do in a real emergency. How would he react? At first I don’t think he heard me and when he asked again I said:

“Well, now I have four fingers instead of five.”

“Which hand?” he asked.

“My left.” This sounded less tragic and might justify why I could sound so calm.

“Which finger?”

“My ring finger?”

“Which one is that?”

“The fourth one.”

“Fourth from the thumb or from the other side?”

“From the thumb.”

“Where did they amputate?”

“They took the whole finger”

I said this while realizing it made little sense for my fourth finger to get caught in a ski lift while the rest of my hand remained fine. I knew my father didn’t know what to say so he continued to ask me technical questions.

“Did they rush you to the hospital right away?”

“Yeah, of course they did.”

I think the reason I came up with this story is that I had cut my finger and needed a tetanus shot, but I didn’t want to tell him because he wouldn’t say anything that meant anything to me. I’ve had two minor concussions which I had also not informed him of. Underneath, I know I was testing to see if I should bother to list him as my emergency contact.  You don’t need a tetanus shot if you have had one in the past ten years. I know I haven’t had one in the past six years and doubtfully the past ten, but it was one of the nails that shuts the coffin when I realized I could not just call my father and get this information. He had no idea nor did he care to have an idea if I had gotten this shot. I told him of my imaginary tragedy to see how he would react.

I considered hanging up and leaving him wondering if I had really received a finger amputation. I wondered if he might call my local relative to ask if they had heard such a thing. I thought it was probably best not to spread rumors so I admitted the truth.

“Not really.  I was just making it up.”

Then somehow, we both laughed a laugh together that I cannot remember ever laughing together. Again I was disappointed he didn’t know enough to realize I was lying. He didn’t catch the irony.

God- I can see how you have redeemed us. I want to redeem the important things in life. I want to redeem my prayer life, my dependence on you, the gifts and influence I can give my friends.

Chapter 5: Delivering Phonebooks

My parents were hard workers. I never once doubted this - and I know I inherited it. I don't feel like I am doing my job properly unless I am giving you more than your money's worth. If I am supposed to coach your kid for an hour you will get at least an hour and 15 minutes unless I am really pushed for time. If you ask for a photo slideshow you are getting the best video I am able to create. Its only time that ever stops me.

One one hand  this is great. At least you know I am not lazy! On the flip side, I don't know where to draw the line. I don't know the difference between perfect and good enough. So I am trying to learn when the painting is finished. I am trying to learn where is a reasonable place to stop. And while I am at it - I need to learn where and when to start. I could spend hours, days, weeks figuring out where too begin. And maybe I don't always need to start at the beginning.

So here is the story about how my parents delivered phonebooks. This occurred the summer before I entered 6th grade at Curie Elementary. I remember very distinctly that my father was given a choice of relocating to company headquarters in Florida (where my mom heard there were alligators and houses were expensive), or he could lose his job and we could stay in San Diego.  I remember telling my friends I wasn't sure I would be back next year. I knew my parents were praying about the move and I don't doubt they agonized over the decision. So during the year my father was unemployed there were many adventures to be had and a shortage of popsicles in the freezer. (We didn't "need" them.)

Oddly enough I have always treasured the memory of my entire family out delivering phone books in my mothers very ancient faded blue two door Oldsmobile. I loved this because it indicated ingenuity and it was unusual. My parents would likely shudder that I even have this memory to recall.

We would get up very early and my parents would drive to the warehouse where the phonebooks were stacked. We were told to stay in the car and not make trouble. My brother and I had taken this opportunity to pack our backpacks with enough toys, books, stuffed animals and games to keep us busy for many days. We packed as if we were leaving the country, when we were maybe leaving the county. My parents would haul the phonebooks into the trunk of the car, shrink wrapped in sets, and then stack as many as possible in the backseat until my brother and I were riding on top of them, and my parents had stacks between them in the front seat. My father drove and my mother read the highlighted map of houses that they were to deliver to. They didn’t seem ashamed to do this work, though it was probably because we were never delivering phonebooks closer than 45 minutes away from our house.

They tried all kinds of methods, one involving my mom riding on the hood of the car and jumping off at each house and running up to the doorstep with the books. Another method was to park the car in the middle of the block and carry as many sets as possible, running up to each house and back to the car after two or three houses, until the block was finished. My brother and I tried to behave and it was our job to take the shrink wrap off the books and be ready to hand them into the front seat. We thought it was fantastic at the end of the day to be swimming up to our necks in shrink wrap thrown into the back seat. For lunches my mom had packed a cooler and sometimes we would stop at a neighborhood park for my brother and I to run around. We didn’t like staying in the car all day. We followed this same routine for a week or more until there was no more work delivering phone books.

On one of the last days my parents took two cars and parked my brother and I in the four door red Honda, while they used the Oldsmobile to deliver in the surrounding area. This was one of those days where my brother and I attempted to smash each other up against the doors of the car with our legs. It was a good thing we usually kept the doors locked because I always feared one of us would accidentally hit the door handle and launch out backwards onto the hard dirty pavement.

This is probably one of those incidents in which my family would deem this “ a family secret,” but it reminds me that my parents were always hard workers and I never doubted they were trying as hard as they could to do a good job.

During that same year -  I had to stop taking piano lessons and my mom had to forgo paying me allowance. However, she did a remarkable thing. She kept a little bank book listing how much she owed me each week, maybe $1.50 or $2. and when my parents could afford it she paid off the entire $125. Amazing.