Happy Birthday, Dad!

A couple of years ago, I had a friend say to me, “Your parents are divorced, right?”

Shocked, I responded, “No way! Why do you think that?”

“Well, because you talk about your mom a lot, but you don’t ever talk about your dad,” she responded.

“That’s just because my mom’s such an easy target,” I replied easily.

But my parents have been married over 50 years, and my father celebrates his 80th birthday this week – a huge accomplishment, given the state of his health in the past few years. So, in tribute, I wanted to share my favorite Dad story.

First of all, some background: My dad was almost 40 when I was born, and, while he was healthy and active during my early childhood, a couple of broken legs, gout and weight gain led him to become inactive, and inactivity led to diabetes and heart disease over the past twenty or so years. Several years ago, the diabetes became so bad that it led to two major complications: peripheral neuropathy, which makes it hard for him to feel the ground under his feet, and diabetic retinopathy, which has led to a major reduction in his eyesight. In fact, before he had laser surgery for the retinopathy and a couple of cataracts, he was considered legally blind. So, to be clear, he’s a fat blind guy sitting in a chair.

Despite the fact that he seldom drove because of his pain, difficulty moving and vision problems, his driver’s license was extremely important to him. He wanted to be able to drive a car if he needed to, so he set about renewing his driver’s license – a difficult task for someone who is legally blind. He went to the place where licenses are handed out, and was issued the standard eye test. Fail. They gave it to him a second time, with his glasses. Fail. Down, but not out, he returned home to ponder his next big move.

Meanwhile, in our state, a concealed carry law had just been passed. And my dad was super excited about that, and eager to get his permit to carry a concealed weapon.

“Why do you want a permit to carry a concealed weapon?” I asked him, when he told me about getting his permit.

“Because I already carry a gun,” he explained patiently. “I’m carrying one right now.”

The guy was wearing pajama bottoms and a cardigan, so I don’t know where the gun was, but in any event, that was his rationale, and nothing was going to stop him from getting his permit.

In order to get the concealed carry permit, he had to take a class on gun safety, take a written test on gun stuff, and pass a shooting exam. He was all over it. He sat in front during the safety lectures and raised his hand for every question, and aced the written exam. The shooting exam was set for a week later.

In the meantime, he had the matter of the vision test for his driver’s license renewal. He decided to go back and give the DMV one more shot. Using all of his Spidey senses, he read that eye chart boldly, proudly, and with confidence.

Fail.

“I don’t think you understand,” he said to the guy at the DMV.

“Understand what?” the guy said.

“I am but an old man,” he replied. “I have nothing left in my life. My kids are all gone, my friends are all dead, I’m retired, and now…..now, you’re trying to take away the one thing I have left….my independence.”

The guy looked at my dad. My dad looked back, a tear trickling down his cheek like that Native American in the littering commercial.

“But…,” the guy said.

“Ahem,” my dad said, pointing at the single teardrop.

“Oh, fine,” the guy said, stamping his paper. “You can have your license.”

A week later, my dad took his shooting exam. The exam required him to shoot at a bullseye 10 times, and I know the results because he proudly posted them on the bathroom window, where they stayed for the next several years. Why there? Got me. Anyway, the results were this: 10 shots, 9 bullseyes, dead center. The shooting instructor said that he’d never seen that kind of accuracy from a layperson and that my dad was, “Some kind of savant.”

What is the moral of this story? Easy: watch out for my dad, because he’s blind, he’s got a driver’s license, and he’s got a gun.

Happy birthday, Dad. Here’s to the next 80.