Father Time's Up

My father was always somewhat of an enigma, we didn't even call him dad, we just called him Norm. I mean how many people call their parents by their first name?  Even our friends called him Norm, it wasn't "How are you Mr. Lowe", it was just, "What's up Norm?".  Nothing can brace you for the loss of your father, even if you know it's coming...Even if you've known it was coming for 8 years.  Before I left on this trip, I knew that there was a very high likelihood that he wouldn't be there to greet me when I came home; The sinking feeling that when I hugged him goodbye, that time would be the very last.  But this isn't a time for me to be sad, it's a time for me to be happy, because my father was in pain and wanted nothing more than to go peacefully.  And thanks, in large part to my mom, sister, and brother, he was granted that last wish within the comforts of his own home.

Norm was the most unconventional parent imaginable, I'm absolutely sure he didn't raise us by any guidelines that are socially acceptable in any culture.  He used to make us weed the front yard of our house for hours and in return we either got $5 or ice cream; And of course we chose ice cream, which costs like $1, meaning he paid us 30 cents an hour.  His sense of humor was no more mature than ours.  One time all the kids randomly started waking up in the middle of the night and gathering in our living room...so what did we do?  We sat around and made up songs about having diarrhea, "When you're sliding into third and you feel a runny turd, diarrhea! (clap, clap) Diarrhea! (clap, clap)".  There was the time I was arrested for underage drinking and my father's only words to me were, "Not so good, Mr. Sean".  We never had the talk about the birds and the bees, although I did get a few anatomy lessons, very much against my will.

There's probably some sort of number, I think it's clearly supposed to be 0, to describe the amount of times you and your father see each other's penis, but our number was a glorious 4.   In grade school, we used to play king of the mountain on the snow piles and one day a schoolmate fell and his boot landed right on my unit, causing it to become bruised, which freaked me out. As a doctor, Norm elected to check it out and informed me that I didn't have a broken penis, and all would be ok.  Considering this is the man that chopped off his finger and then duct taped it back on, I probably should have gotten a second opinion.  I showed him mine and he showed me his, like the time he got a catheter installed and nonchalantly decided to show me the entire hookup, penis included.  Not once did it cross his mind, maybe my adult son doesn't want to see my penis; To him that was no different than talking about the weather.

His sweet tooth was legend!  I think all children are forced to sell chocolate bars at some point during their childhood, so when you have 8 kids in your family, chances are high there's going to be a box in close proximity.  During a road-trip in our Suburban, Norm was in the mood for some Caramel bars.  It started out with a simple gesture of him reaching his hand over his shoulder, but after 3 or 4, we were like, "Norm, you cannot eat any more of these candy bars".  So what does he do?  He opens the glove box and pulls out a king size Snickers and tells us that if we don't give him another chocolate bar, he's going to eat that instead.  He must have coaxed 4 more caramel bars from us with that tactic before we finally said no, but just to spite us, he ate the damn Snickers as well.

If that wasn't enough, he bought a box of ice cream treats to share with me and Bryn before every Bulls game that was on TV.  These could be ice cream sandwiches, drumsticks, ice cream Snickers, etc.  The three of us ate an entire box every game, and there's 82 games in a season, not counting playoffs.  How I don't have a cavity, I will never know.  He would go on crazy kicks like that, just like how we had to watch every Jackie Chan movie that was ever created or get a Filet-O-Fish sandwich every time he went to McDonalds.

He was a man full of advice... that he never followed. "Always save 10%"; Never once did he save 10%, I'm not sure he even saved 1%.    He was also brilliant.  He could have gone to college when he was 12, spoke several languages, graduated with a medical degree from John Hopkins and a Business degree from Harvard.  He was talented enough to be a professional painter.  He was outrageous.  He bought a YMCA and turned it into our home.  I mean that has to be the most ridiculous decision a man can make, we a had a basketball court and held Prom there.

He was eccentric.  He had a secret room in the house filled with guns and rations in case of a nuclear apocalypse.  He once spilled formaldehyde all over his body and just started driving home, like it was no big deal.  He used to barbecue food over giant oil drums, and when he was almost busted by the cops, he claimed it was a Chinese oven.  The cops not wanting to get in trouble for racism, let him off the hook.  He was generous.  When he got sick and was no longer able to work, he actually paid another pathologist out of his pocket to take over his work at the hospital.  He lost money, because he paid that person more than the hospital was paying him, but to him it didn't matter, because it was the right thing to do.

He was full of pride.   He would never let you win, you always had to earn it.  We used to play basketball when he got home from work and one night he just destroyed me like 80-12, he wouldn't give me anything.  I was so pissed off I didn't go to school for 3 days.  I remember one time we played chess and were both down to two pieces, so I just wanted to call it a draw, but he kept making me play for 30 more minutes, until he finally beat me.  He always fought until the end.  Even when he was given a terminal diagnosis with cancer, he never let it win, he just kept going, continuously outliving the estimates they gave him.

He was a trickster.  He had us convinced that a family of ducks lived in our attic and told me that the town of Cedar Rapids was called See the Rabbits.  I mean, what benefit did he get from making his children dumber?  There was also the time that all my siblings called me Dumpster Dave and told me I was found in a dumpster.  Does he tell them off?  No he joins in and says, "When it came down to you, we threw away the baby and kept the placenta."  He always loved a good laugh, especially when it came at the expense of someone in the family.

There's so many other random things he did, such as his weird tai-chi strength.  Like when he was pointing something out while driving and his finger went through the dashboard or when we were getting rid of our ping pong table and he just grabbed one side and kicked it in half.  I mean, who the hell does that?!?!  There was the time he spilled an entire bucket of paint all over himself and made us wash him off with a hose so our mom wouldn't find out.   And he had the weirdest internal conflict about enjoying to hear from his kids, but simultaneously hating to actually talk with us over the phone.  I remember in college, I had a phone conversation with my dad that lasted over 8 minutes and afterwards I immediately went to talk to Bryn, because that had to be the longest conversation he had ever had over the phone.  99% of the time I talked to him it was a 30 second roundup of, "How are you", "Great", "Hey listen, it's been nice chatting with you, but here's mother".

Though he wasn't the most talkative person, I will always remember the advice he gave me and perhaps more importantly, I will hold close the things that he didn't tell me.  My father never told me that he was disappointed in me, he never told me that I had limitations, he never once doubted that I was capable of doing anything in this world or even this universe.  He didn't tell me I was crazy for quitting my job or that I was throwing away a promising future, he was just happy for me.  Regardless of what decisions I made, he was always happy for me, always proud of me.  How many people like that do you meet in your life?  Surely far too few.

My father's favorite saying was that if you're hungry you should eat, and if you're tired you should sleep, so after a long and extraordinary journey, it's time for him to enjoy the eternal slumber he's been putting off for so long.  Our only hope is that he rests in peace.  I love you and I miss you already, but I will never, ever forget you...Goodbye Mr. Norm.