Essay by Rex: February 2003

Midweek my parents came to town to have lunch and asked me to meet them there. Seems my Dad had watched so many TV commercials about "baby back ribs" he couldn't deny himself any longer. I knew I was going to be a bit late so I asked Mom to order me a large salad.

Oh, Pah-leeeze...

Don't think I've gone "gay" or anything by ordering a salad ... but since I have almost no ability to taste food resulting from the recent radiation treatments, there's no sense in me ordering something I ...WISH... I could enjoy.



There is a 10 year age difference between my parents. My dad is a bent, shriveled old geezer with a collection of canes, crutches, wheelchairs and electric scooters. He is staring at being 80 in a couple of years. His decrepit appearance matches his overall sour attitude and selfish outlook on life. I know him to have taken a rather casual approach to being a provider during the productive years. He has a very bad heart condition now which prevents him from 'tinkering' like he used to but allows him to fine tune the art of napping.

My Mom, on the other hand is an energetic, outgoing, fun woman who's nearing 70. There is no doubt who has put forth all the effort and made the marriage work all these years. She still takes good care of the ol' man but she works as a nurse just to get out of the house. Sort of a work release program during her life sentence.

At the end of our meal, my Mom excused herself to go to the Ladies Room. My Dad, who sometimes seems to be "losin' it, upstairs", leaned over to me and asked,

"Is her birthday this month or next month?" Hmm... A vague flicker of memory.

"It was LAST MONTH." I answered. I had reminded him of that fact once or twice before the actual date hoping on an outside chance, he would surprise her with some thoughtful gift or dinner out.

"Oh. Well... I guess I don't have to do anything then.", he said. He then changed the subject to his latest car trouble woes.

Forty-nine years, eleven months and about 20 days ago they had married in front of a Justice of the Peace. I came along 16 months later.

My siblings and I were planning a surprise Golden Wedding Anniversary celebration for the following Sunday. Lots of guests, lots of refreshments, lots of running errands and making calls. My sister, her husband and my brother were doing most of the set up. We, in fact, were doing it for Mom. Fifty years together and my Mom should be given some sort of Gold Medal for putting up with this incredibly thoughtless 'hump' I was sitting beside. He's my Dad and I love him but 49 and a half of those years should be credited to my Mom for reaching the milestone.



All three of my daughters came from Utah for the occasion and my youngest daughter brought her new acquisition... a husband, along. This was going to be a chance for me to get to know this kid that I am trying to learn to call a 'son-in-law'. He is 18, unemployed and still wet behind the ears, so I had yet to be sold on him as a "keeper".

If he was just a boyfriend, I would have crossed my fingers and pray my daughter would be fickle and soon lose interest in him. Maybe she would wait and find some guy with some "sand". A young guy with some substance. Maybe a guy who was in an apprenticeship program somewhere, or the military, or maybe going to college. But, all that wishing and hoping evaporated when she chose to marry him. On short notice.

Lowell Slade tried to comfort me by saying that I didn't have to live with him, SHE did. I really pondered those words ... looking everywhere for even a scrap of comfort.

Rick Fairbanks and I were considering our daughters and their futures once when he said something to the effect that it seemed singularly important that a young man who married a daughter should be considerate and treat her well, above all else. Not an earth shattering conclusion to arrive at but a significant, vital point to keep in mind.



I had a couple of conversations by phone with my new 'son-in-law' early on about him applying himself, working at any available job to discover what he really enjoyed doing which could turn into a career. I wasn't sure how much headway I made.

When I was 18, I was working 60 hours a week at an asbestos plant, saving money for a 2 year mission for my church. I didn't marry until I was 25 and a journeyman carpenter. I held off mentioning that I had walked to school everyday of my youth in waist deep snow, uphill, both ways. Figured I'd save the tough luck stories and other good stuff for later.

While the girls and Nathan were here in town I showed them around, taking in the sights of Modesto and it's surroundings. A trip to San Francisco and Fisherman's Wharf was a highlight. At one point, my cellphone rang and the call was Nathan's Mom in St. George. I handed over the phone and wandered off to look at something. A couple of minutes later I returned to see tears running down Heidi's face as she leaned toward Nathan who was still on the phone. She was really upset. He looked a bit concerned at what he was learning from the phone call. I asked what the problem was and heard Heidi's dog had been hit by a car earlier that day. The call ended and I saw Nathan filling Heidi in on the details.

What I saw next was something which elevated my opinion of this goofy 18 year old 'son-in-law'. He put his arms around Heidi and was comforting her and letting her know the dog would be all right inspite of a trip to the Vet and the loss of two toes on one paw. He helped wipe her tears with a napkin from the lunch we had eaten.

He could have acted like a Mr. Tough-Guy, say it was just a dog and brush off Heidi's concerns. Or, be like me and start griping about a Vet bill awaiting them upon their return, but he didn't. He briefly let us know what was going on and then focused on his wife and her fears.

Heck, maybe he is a 'Keeper'.