a Sweet Life Saga

Jake, my dad, is a rebel and refuses to purchase DSL internet service. He tried it once and didn’t like it.   Jake said it didn’t work properly. I told him it was an operator error.  I explained that the service did work properly but the computer he was using couldn’t handle the new technology (their computer is about 10 years old with a 50 MB hard drive).   So, they live in the Stone Age and use dial-up internet service.   He says that DSL is a waste of money and that the providers of such services are thieves. **Note:  Jake believes that everyone who doesn't give him something for free is a thief! I explain to Jake he should upgrade to this service if for no other reason than to make my life comfortable when I’m visiting.   Do you know what it is like not having internet access for days on end??!!!   The withdrawals are painful – very, very painful.     I am forced to spend considerable amounts of time squinting and killing the battery ...

For those of you who are keeping up, this is the third installment of my little blog series on Life with Jake.   Jake is my dad.   He will be 77 years old next month.   I would like to say that his actions in the stories I’ve been relating are due to his older age, but sadly, they are not.   He has always been this way.   While growing up, common phrases around our house were, “don’t touch my walls, you’ll leave fingerprints and scuff marks”; “don’t lean back in my chair, you’ll break the legs (not our legs, the chair legs)”; “close the refrigerator door – your cooling the whole house” (you know, the swapping of air syndrome – doesn’t every parent have this?); “no you can’t have new shoes those still have part of a sole, put newspaper in the bottom like we did”; “turn off the lights you are wasting electricity”; and so forth and so on.   My dad was one of those kids who walked to school in the middle of a snowstorm, uphill, coming and going.   Becau...

I recently decided to write a few blogs about Jake, my dad.  The stories are unusual (or not) and sometimes, mildly entertaining, at least to our family members.  We don’t always call him by his name, we do call him Dad.  But when we want to make a point about his behavior, we call him Jake. In my previous post I explained how fanatical my dad is about swapping air of varying temperatures, specifically the mixing of outdoor air with indoor air.  I made reference to his comment about letting the cold air inside the house escape when we opened the door. I feel at this point I must define “cold air” in my parents’ house. “Cold air” in their house is relative.  The analogy I like to use here is similar to one of my favorite lines in the movie “A Christmas Story”.  Ralphie was narrating the scene where his dad was changing a flat tire.  He stated that his dad’s idea of a tire was "one that was round and had previously been made of rubber".  I laugh h...

Well, just like you can no longer get a "hickie from Kenickie", you won't be able to do the Hand Jive along side the best dancer (with the worst reputation) from St. Bernadette's.  Cha Cha (Annette Charles), from one of the best movies EVER -  Grease, recently died due to complications from cancer.  Seems all of our best-loved and worst-hated characters are moving on from Rydell High! " But you will always have the glorious memories of Rydell High.  Rydell forever.  Bon voyage. " I'm just sayin',

My dad's name is Jake.  He is Italian.  He likes perfect world order and is so tight with money, pennies scream in anguish.   I haven't lived with my parents since I was 18 years old, yet I remember it vividly, the way all kids remember their childhood. I remember my dad being very strict and money conscious (which translates to tight-wad or thrifty - depending on your point of view and terminology).   Since my move to Texas, I've been traveling back and forth between Alabama and Texas quite a bit, which warrants frequent stays with my parents. When I was a child, we were not allowed to paint our room a color.  To Jake, white was a color and was the only color necessary on walls. We lived in something similar to a cave.  On the outside, it resembled a house, but inside it was always dark.  Drapes covered our windows.  You know, the ones that look like curtains but are lined with some cancer-causing agent that blocks light?  We we...