A day off

Dad is a work-a-holic. This won't come as news to anybody that knows him well. It was something of a disagreement between us for the ~15 years that we worked side by side. Personally, I blame it on his German heritage.

Vacations, for example. My own children accuse me of having a short memory, but I'm pretty sure that I can count on one hand the number of "family" vacations that I remember from my own childhood. Dad isn't cheap, and certainly not afraid of being away from home. It was just the time away from projects that needed his attention that was the issue.

Roughly one year ago, my dear wife pointed out that my own children had experienced an underwhelming total of two family vacations in their first 10 years on this planet. That discussion was the beginning of what would become our 2008 family Disneyworld vacation. We extended an invitation to Mom and Dad, knowing that the odds weren't good that he'd concede. If you've looked at the pictures on this page, you already know that he gave in.

So, Dad took a day off. Actually, he took seven days off. Mind you, this wasn't without a good deal of resistance. But he made sure that I didn't see any of it (a little bird told me). Actually, now that I think of it, I believe his exact comments were something along the lines of "SEVEN DAYS, HOW ON EARTH CAN WE STAY THERE FOR SEVEN DAYS?!?!"

In spite of my enthusiastic pace in what some of my family mistook as an effort to walk them all into early graves, everyone stayed on for the full duration. Dad walked on through some sort of foot injury, and by virtue of compensating ended up with muscle spasms. He walked on through the back pain until late in the night on day two. That's when he and I found ourselves in a cab, driving to an all night clinic in Orlando. But not to fret, after a muscle relaxant and a good nights rest, Dad was ready to continue onward as we trekked through the world of Mickey.

We had been home for several weeks when Dad thanked me. He was laughing when he admitted to his reluctance. But acknowledged having more fun than he expected. I never expected thanks, I was just glad for his company. But I was touched.

I took a day off today. Not from work, but I did not make it to the rehab center tonight. I played soccer dad, I provided dinner to my children (thank you Subway), and I assisted with homework. Oh, and I think I now understand the inner workings of the 6th grade female social circle.

Dad wasn't alone. The rest of the family spent time with him, focused around this evening. Mom relayed a relaxed time together. She says that they talked at length. And while she understood very little of what he said, his tone and tempo seemed consistent with any normal conversation.

I can't say whether Dad hears his voice as we do, but I still have confidence that he's getting better. I believe that he's stopped taking days off, and is now focusing on his newest project.