Last night, my husband and I had a lovely evening at my baby sister's house with my sister, her husband, and my parents. My sister fixed a pork chop and gravy dinner that was absolutely out of this world. I've never had pork chops like that, so moist that they fall apart when you go to cut them with a knife. (These chops are so tender that you really don't even need a knife.) She did share her secret recipe with me; but sorry, people--this is a special dish for which she is locally famous, and I'm not going to reveal it to the whole world. You're just going to have to get yourself invited to her house if you want to experience these to-die-for pork chops.
Since it is very close to my dad's birthday, and my husband and I will be at our oldest son's house on his real birthday and won't be able to celebrate with him, we decided to have cake and presents for Dad afterward. Here was his reaction to all the birthday boy attention:
My father is...hmmm, how shall I put this? My father is a bit of a quirky fellow. Yeah, that's it. He's not weird, he's...quirky. In case you think I'm being hard on my dear old dad, here's a for instance: he insisted that he didn't want to be called any of the usual grandfather names, like "Grandpa" or "Papa" or "Gramps." Most men can hardly wait to become a grandfather and earn one of those coveted titles (my husband is over the moon now that he's "Papa"), but not Dad. He wanted his own special title, the kind of name that would never be forgotten for generations to come. So when he became a grandfather, he became "Bigfoot," and that was the only name he'd answer to. When my oldest son was very young, my father nicknamed him "Tex" because he'd been born in Texas, and my son didn't like it at all. He asked his incorrigible grandfather to stop calling him that, and when he didn't, my wise-beyond-his-years little boy said, "Okay, but if you call me Tex, I'll call you Grandpa." The teasing stopped immediately, because that was the last thing Dad wanted to happen! Well, I'll give him this: he accomplished what he set out to accomplish and distinguished himself from all the other run-of-the mill grandfathers out there. I'm pretty sure his grandchildren are the only people on the planet who have a Bigfoot.
Now tell me: what is Bigfoot doing in this picture? What kind of reaction is this to a cake and a card and presents? Is this a small child's reaction, as in, "If I close my eyes and can't see it, it doesn't exist"? He did inform us last night that he's decided he's not having any more birthdays, because he's not going to get any older. So if Bigfoot covers his face, will his birthday go away? Or is he just feeling shy, now that he's become the center of all that attention? Perhaps, but I doubt it. He's never been averse to a little attention. Actually, Bigfoot may simply be overcome with emotion. That happens to him from time to time. Last year, my siblings and I actually made him cry on Christmas by pitching in to buy him and my mother a small flat screen T.V. After all the dry-eyed reactions to all the sentimental gifts we'd presented our father with over the years, tears over a television set were the last thing we were expecting!
He's an enigma, our Bigfoot. But we love him.