You can blame Hitler week on A&E for this…
I don’t know why, but something made me write this the other day. I got the first sentence in my head and couldn’t stop. Maybe I’ll get the pull to keep writing and build on this story. What do you think? Does it have legs or should it stop right here?
“Hitler had Parkinson’s and look at all of the things he was able to accomplish.”
My father opens his mouth to say something, thinks better of it, and just sighs in response.
“Hitler, Mom….seriously, Hitler?”
“Well, it’s true, Hitler had Parkinson’s and he was able to lead a country and go to war and…”
“Kill lots of Jews.” Sara said, who up to this point looked like she wasn’t paying attention to anything going on.
“I was only pointing out that Dad has a full life in front of him. That this doesn’t have to change any of his goals or decisions.”
“So the first thing that popped in your head was Hitler? What about Michael J Fox, or Mohammed Ali, or…”
“Will you two stop it.” My father says as he starts getting up from the table.
“Didn’t Franco and Mao have Parkinson’s too? What do you think it is about Parkinson’s that attracts tyrants? Not that I think you’re a tyrant Dad.”
“Thank you Claire” My father says weakly as he pads out of the room and into the living room to turn on the TV and get out of earshot of his family.
“Dad’s not a despot!” says Isabel
“Shut-up Isabel, I said that already, you just wanted to use despot in a sentence.”
“Did not, it’s just the first word that came to mind. I can’t help it if my vocabulary isn’t as limited as some peoples.” Isabel’s eyes narrow as she says that and looks at me.
“Everyone at the table has a fine vocabulary.” My mother says in order to calm the rising tension.”
“Wasn’t Hitler addicted to methamphetamines too?” said Isabel
“And he had syphilis.” said Sara
“What do you know about syphilis?” asks Mom
“As you can see Mom, you picked a real winner when you chose Hitler as your champion for Parkinson’s not affecting your way of life.”
“OK, let’s just drop the Hitler crap.”
October 26th, 2006 at 1:31 pm
hahaha…is this dinner at krista’s house?
October 30th, 2006 at 11:47 am
Mom yelled “alright you kids, go clean up your rooms, enough of this talking.” I looked at my sister and rolled my eyes. Dad shuffled back in, poured himself another cup of coffee and dribbled it across the floor as he slowly made his way back to the lazyboy. “Moooooom, Dad’s messing up your clean floor” Sarah yelled as I headed toward my room. Mom startled me as she whipped around the corner, “you kids shut up!!, be nice to your father, he will be nothing but a jerky mass of jello in no time, so you better take advantage of him now!” She walked over to the lazyboy and patted my Dad on his head, he didn’t look away from the TV. I entered my room, shut the door and let out a long, slow, sigh. I could hear Sara in her room, singing along with her music………”I believe I can fly, I believe I can touch the sky, I think about it every night and day, spread my wings and fly away. . . . . . . .”
October 31st, 2006 at 9:19 am
You took it one toke over the line! Poor Parkinson’s Dad gets no respect.