Part 7: The Wonderman (Dad)

It was a huge shock to me when my father announced he was coming for a visit. Really? So soon? We had only been here a few weeks when out of the blue dad informed us of the news. We were thrilled…and still very disheveled. He was coming to help us get settled in and to help get repairs done around the house. This was a great help indeed.

For us, we began worrying over how to keep the parents entertained, and most importantly, what to feed them. Tonya, always the great cook, was immediately scouring through cookbooks and old issues of Food &Wine, to find dishes to make for our visitors. We spent a handful of days going over possible menu choices, but to no avail. We had no clear cut planned menus, all we knew is that Dad is one of the few inhabitants on this planet who does not like Italian. I mean, isn’t that part of the two main food groups, Mexican and Italian? It is if you grow up in Texas, that is for sure!

Dad’s visit was nothing short of awesome. He always brings new-fangled gadgets and accessories. It was like it was Santa showing up. We had no idea what wonders were packed and zipped up neatly in his suitcases. There was a definite abundance of those of the electrical nature, because upon unpacking their suitcases, there were a bounty of adapters, plugs and wires strewn across the bedroom floor. Of course, he could never be far from computing tools of some sort. As soon as the power was surging through this maze of wires, he was ready to go. Yes, dad is truly a super-man. He is never short of the ability to rig up something out of the nothing (or at least the strangest components) and in the process, pretty likely to embarrass you with his handiwork. Let’s work!

Dad shows Tonya a thing or two...

Dad was into it immediately. He had a Dremel, circuit checkers, pliers, painter’s tools, anchors, screws, screwdrivers, mini-laptops, back-up discs, tiny fans…you name it! The wonders never ceased. One of the greatest surprises was pop informing us that he was going to let us tap in to one of his Slingboxes. Man! Talk about manna from heaven! Now we could access all the regular cable shows and junk TV from home via the internet! (I am not sure he knew that he’d just pulled the lid of Pandora’s Box. For now as many episodes as possible of “Housewives of New York”, New Jersey or anywhere else would be streaming into our living room, igniting our nights with sordid viewing pleasure).

It wasn’t just the computing genius of pop that was appreciated, but the manual side too. His wonder tools carved, cut and sanded our way to excitement and joy. Lamps began to work, plugs had power, and bare wires were no longer danger zones hanging above our heads. We could now plug things in with ease; we had power here, there and everywhere! Yes, the presence of pops was all around the house.



Still, in spite of all the miracles being worked with the combined power duo of the parents, we were but serfs in the dining arena. Silly us, thinking after days full of hard work the folks would be able to eat a horse; we went nuts and made huge portions of food for feasting. We happily piled on the goods, while the folks dabbled in the dishes like pecking at birdfeed. Tonya began to fret that they were not enjoying the food. It is not so much a question of whether or not they were enjoying it, but more that they are just simple folks desiring simple foods. Nothing could be more obvious the second night when the fare was to be a more mellower affair, when a platter of sautéed peppers in cream were produced…oh, and additional salsa to boot. I need not tell you that my parents’ spoons were not dipping into that platter too often. Still, like all proper grown ups, they sampled here and there, pleasantly handed out praise for the food, then would retire to their room at a nice early hour.

I knew dad was over ‘exotic’ foods when at the grocery store, I was asked to fetch a jar of peanut butter. The agony of exotics was on brazen display when eating at the bland chain restaurant Sandborn’s, dad ordered a ‘British hamburger’. Believe me; I had no idea that the Brits knew anything about hamburgers either! Still, when the plate arrived, complete with a chunk of what appeared to iceberg lettuce drowned in Thousand Island dressing as a garnish, he ate it all! In hindsight, we now know the more boring and base the food is, the better for the folks.

Dad was nothing short of the cool and calm champ in light of our struggles with police harassment on that fateful trip to the pyramids. In fact, he’s pretty cool and calm in the face of any adversity. “You can’t loose your cool when you are dealing with problems in space”, he said wryly after a high-tension affair. Hmmm, guess that is very true.

I suppose it is this ultra cool which enables dad to completely over look the garbled, low-bit-rate mess that he calls Patsy Cline on his mp3 player. Yes, his infamous mp3 player was brought on this trip, and pulled out for use while driving one day. I was first exposed to this wonder a year or so ago when all of us boys went on a weekend trip with pop, a kind of ‘guys weekend’. Dad pulled out the little gem and plugged it in Damon’s car to provide us with some aural excitement. We had some fun listening to ‘Classical Bluegrass’(?!) and the horror that was Patsy Cline. I have never heard a more chopped up, sub standard, pirated and plundered version of Patsy Cline’s “Greatest Hits” in my life! He had explained that when he was transferring it from tape, his computer messed up, and the files were corrupted. This produced a greatest hits album which lasted about 15 minute’s total, and not a complete sentence or chorus throughout the whole affair. Wretched!

I was able to give something back to dad though, whether or not he is aware or will be aware. One night while he was putzing around on his computer, I uploaded a newer, cleaner and higher bit-rate version of Patsy Cline’s “Greatest Hits” onto his computer and mp3 player. I am now happy knowing that we need never be exposed to those horrors again, and I can also rest assured that whoever dad is around, if he pulls out his mp3 player and wants to play someone his music, they may have to bear through the Classical Bluegrass, but at least they can enjoy a proper version of Patsy Cline in pristine clarity. (I worry though, because I did not see dad delete the corrupt files).

The man...and a machine.

A week with the parents was wonderful. They were both a huge help, and a massive mound of support. We had laughs and great talks. We learned more about one another. We appreciated all they did and the little gifts they bought us, including the re-rigging of a water bottle pump they were so fascinated with. If there is a gadget, dad’ll have it. If there is a problem, he’ll fix it. If we were ever in doubt of two people willing to help and support this massive undertaking….we know now who two likely candidates are; my folks were a fantastic help and a huge comfort. A surprise visit paid off in ways we never imagined.

Once again, the dad who was the biggest hero in my eyes as a kid still reigns supreme as the biggest hero in world as an adult. Gadgets or no gadgets, low-bitrate or high, I am so proud of my pop, and is visit meant the world to me here.