Dite, dite, Hodey. :)

I mentioned back in 2011 how much the following Sunday newspaper comic by Lynn Johnston made me and my parents laugh when we first read it.  The next-to-last panel's line has become something Mom, Dad, and I say to each other when one of us is sick and stuffed-up.  When I called them the other night, I told them about the horrible cold I've been suffering from this past week--as if they couldn't tell from my voice--but I forgot to sign off with our catchphrase until I was wrapping up a quick note home to them this morning.  While I recover here, please enjoy one of our favorite cartoons.  ♥ 

♥

We seek peace, knowing that peace is the climate of freedom. ~ Dwight D. Eisenhower

On Veterans Day, I am thinking of Dad, who served in Vietnam with my mom's big brother. Dad and Uncle Dan lived in the same Air Force barracks and became good friends. Uncle Dan mentioned to my mom in a letter home that a guy he was serving with was lonely and would appreciate some mail. Mom and Dad remained pen pals throughout Dad's entire time in the service. When Dad came home after his required four years, he and Mom got married--and celebrated their 41st wedding anniversary two weeks ago. Uncle Dan, who also made it home safely, still reminds them from time to time that they can thank him for their marriage. That is a happy Vietnam story, and yes, we can all thank Uncle Dan. There are other things to thank him and my dad for, as well, of course, although "thank you" is too little in comparison with years of sacrifice, lost friends, and the dark nights and nightmares. 

My grandmother once told me something her brother Al had recounted to his family about his experiences in the army in World War I, and it still gives me chills. Uncle Al and the men in his unit were lying in wait on a hillside, still in the silence and straining to hear any movement, when they suddenly saw a line of what Grandma described to me as plumes marching over the hill toward them. Uncle Al had explained that the German soldiers at that time wore helmets with a distinctive spike or plume on top and later told his family that he had never been as terrified as he was in that moment, seeing that line of helmet-tops appear. Uncle Al also came home safely. One of his daughters, likely now in her seventies, proudly sent me his army photo above when I asked years ago.

My grandfather's youngest brother's war was World War II, where he served in the Marine Corp. Amongst the lifetime of personal papers, photographs, and paper ephemera of my grandparents' that my parents and I long ago had to sort through was a yellowed wall calendar with a note written onto one day's square marking Uncle Mike's departure for boot camp. Uncle Mike lived into his 80s.

A favorite old Veterans Day comic strip from Lynn Johnston:
(click to enlarge)

  

Dad and Uncle Dan and Uncle Al and Uncle Mike--and Uncle Warren, who served in the Navy, and Great-Grandpa, who was an Italian POW during the first World War, and Papa Lee, who was one of the helmsmen of the USS Wasp--and veterans everywhere: Thank you and happy Veterans Day.  ♥

Laughing with Mom and Dad

I returned yesterday from a weekend at my parents' house. Mom's health is a continuing concern, but she told me Friday night that she knew when her health troubles began that she could either freak out and fall apart or just hang in there and try to find the humor in it wherever she could. She chose the latter, and this visit, like most of ours, was again one of (much-needed) laughing and teasing between us all.

Mom told me that as the medical staff prepared her for her first MRI, they reminded her to "stop moving," as she would have to stay still during the exam, and my poor mom, suffering from severe tremors and muscle spasms, dryly noted, "If I could do that, I wouldn't be here." The MRI technician then asked her what kind of music she'd like to hear during the exam, and Mom said, "Oh, just anything relaxing." Moments later "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" began to blare all around her at full volume. We laughed so hard together over that Friday night, we were almost crying. We would start to settle down again, and then one of us would start singing the "Uh-weem-oh-weh! Uh-weem-oh-weh!" part and we'd break up again.

Making it even better, Mom said the next song on the MRI playlist was "Eye of the Tiger." What on earth were the MRI staff thinking?! Ohhh, we laughed so hard. I told her she should be grateful they didn't continue with the theme and blast "Welcome to the Jungle."

She said that while she has been stressed over the major medical bills that have been coming in, Dad has been pretty cool about it, just looking at it like, "We'll pay what we can every month, but these won't be paid off in our lifetime, so what can we do about it? Just focus on getting better," but that even his cool broke a couple weeks ago, when he opened yet another "THIS IS NOT A BILL!" notice. Exasperated, he told my mom he wanted to make a copy of one of his blank checks and mail it back to them with "THIS IS NOT A CHECK!" printed across it. :)

While assembling an apple crumb pie for Sunday's dinner, Mom and I reminisced about some of our kitchen mishaps over the years. She brought up the Easter visit that was Mike's first to her and Dad's house and how I'd made a big production out of making a big Edible Arrangements-style fruit bouquet for dessert but hadn't made it right, so the entire morning's work fell off the counter onto the floor. Mike and Mom had just watched in silence and continued to stare at the mess and then at me, waiting for my reaction (and momentarily too stunned to laugh) until Mike commented, "Your cooking show was just cancelled." :) This weekend when she brought it up while rolling out pie crust with trembling hands, I told her that her cooking show was called "Shake and Bake," and Dad groaned from the living room while she and I snickered.

Mom said her beloved aunt Ann had always loved the anecdote of Mom's horrific experience when my two brothers and I were all sick with pneumonia at the same time as kids. I was almost hospitalized over it, never having had that strong of an immune system, and my brothers were seriously sick with it, as well. One morning while she ran from room to room checking on each of us, frazzled and near tears, there was a knock at the door. Mom opened it to find a Jehovah's Witness smiling at her. "Have you ever heard of Armageddon?" he asked her. "Heard of it?" my poor mom cried out. "I have three kids here with pneumonia. I'm LIVING it!" I had never heard that story before and howled. 

Saturday night, Dad was working on a crossword puzzle in the living room and came into his and Mom's room where Mom and I were watching TV to ask for the four-letter name of the band that sang "Mr. Roboto." "You remember that one?" he asked and then quite unexpectedly started singing the Japanese part of the lyrics and doing the Robot. Dad! Dad can do the Robot?! Mom and I were (already giddy and) so distracted by his impromptu song and dance that we never answered his question, and it wasn't until I called home after getting back to the apartment yesterday that I remembered to say, "...Styx, Dad. With a 'y.'" :)

And I found Sunday's "For Better or Worse" comic in the paper especially funny and took it out to Mom and Dad on the deck after reading it. Even when Mom and I said goodbye to each other yesterday morning, we pulled apart with a cheerful "Dite, dite, Hodey!" that made us all start giggling again.   I doubt I'll be lucky enough to have both Thanksgiving and Christmas off from work again this year, but I'll get home at some point both next month and in December. In the meantime, we have memories of a happy weekend--and of course, a letter ready to go out in tomorrow's mail. "Dite, dite...." :)