Vermont

Quick update before the week takes off. Although I keep forgetting I get wednesday off. If I was more inspired I might come into work and play catch up, but I don't have it in me much anymore - you keep digging and digging - trying to get out, but it just seems to become a bigger hole you're in.

Anyways, last week, I met up with my old college friend Sam. He is such a character - a year ahead of me in the same engineering program. He's really a go getter - entrepeneur type and is always asking me difficult questions about my career - I really need to start focusing more on my career and less on my job. He had invited along another college friend, Lonnie, who speaking of characters, is one unto himself. I remember my senior year he had come back for some event along with alot of other graduates and Joanne and I were outside the Campus Center talking with a bunch of people. He was telling us that he got a job as an air traffic controller somewhere. Well, frankly, he's the last person I would want controlling the air traffic when I fly. Nice guy, but not academic - very much the goofer and doesn't really focus on work stuff. I could clearly see him up in the air traffic tower entertaining the other controllers while my plane crashed into another plane. I've always thought of him as I've flown over the years - that's a lot of flights. And I've even told the story once or twice. Than last year, talking with Sam, mentioned the story and Sam let's out a big laugh - Lonnie's never been an air traffic controller! He really had me convinced - why not?

So it was Sam, Lonnie, and Dave - a friend of Sam's from MIT graduate years and another structural engineer. I had a good time with the group - lots of joking around and except for Sam, we are all in the same field. Didn't get home until late (so speaking for a 'school' night).

Than this weekend, I hopped a ride up to Vermont. A friend was driving up to a town, two exits north of dads. It was the first time I ever visited without driving myself. Nice to relax and had a good time chatting with my coworker. I was only up for Saturday and Sunday - short visit. And earlier on Saturday, a parishner in Barbro's church had suddenly passed away. So it was good timing for my visit, in Barbro's words, as I was able to entertain Dad. Actually we went canoeing on Sadawga Lake (the picture is pulled from a random website - but you get the idea). Perfect weather - nice and cool, crisp. And the lake has this "island" in the middle that is composed of loose vegetation. Really fun to explore and we even found a way to cross through the middle - although I realized a good way to torture dad is to stand up in the canoe - he doesn't like the idea of tipping. Actually, funny story. As we are prepping the boat, ready to head off into the lake, we were choosing life jackets. Now, growing up we went canoeing, and dad always wore this yellow jacket that zips up. Not the best design - would help you stay afloat but wouldn't keep you afloat. There is another, smaller, better fitting one - more modern he must have bought in the last ten years. And than of course, the traditional orange type that goes around your neck. So here's the dialogue:

Dad: "Are you a good swimmer?"

Me: "Descent" I say - thanks to years of lessons forced upon us by the parents, to ensure that we could stay afloat when needed (appreciated later in life).

Dad: "Good you can take the bad life jacket." Being the yellow one that he has worn for countless trips.

Me: "Thanks dad - glad to see the whole looking out for your kid has worn off." I than put on the yellow jacket, and I'm swimming in it - really sized for an adult male. Dad sees this and does the right thing and I get better fitting jacket. Now in dad's defence, I'm not a kid anymore and it makes sense, looking at two grown adults, that the better swimmer, takes the lesser of the jackets. Still, I think I might invest in my own life-vest to bypass this situation next time.

And the other funny story with dad has to do with dinner. So Saturday, June 30th, ring a bell? Well, not to you, but it should have for me - it's dad and Barbro's anniversary. There I was, having shown up on their doorstep the day of their anniversary, having no clue, empty handed, not even a card. Such a good off spring I am. Well, the only thing I could do was treat them to the dinner we were going out to that night. Except I knew I would hear some push-back, so being the sneaky little devil I am, half way through dinner, I excused myself for the "bathroom" and double backed to the front desk and paid the dinner bill. It was fun at the end of the night when we were getting ready to leave, but dad said we had to wait for the bill. I said we were all set, I had taken care of it. And.... he didn't believe me. He really thought I was trying to get him to do a dine and dash. That I would trick him into walking out without paying (and this is one of their favorite restaurants). More dialogue:

Me: "No really dad, I paid the bill already."

Dad: "How?"

Me: "I charged it."

Dad: "But when? I didn't see you."

Me: "I didn't really go to the bathroom."

Dad: "You're tricky - I can't believe you did that. Did you really pay the bill?" I'm loving it.

Me: "Yes dad. I told you, I want to treat you guys - my treat."

Dad: "Really??? You just want us to walk out." At which point I pull out the credit card receipt and dad insists on reading the time stamp (because you know this might have been a receipt from when I was here earlier in the day - between playing cards and canoeing with him).

Me: "So we are all set - let's go."

Dad: "Wait, so you are really treating us?" Now accepting but very incredulous.

Me: "Yes"

Dad: "You're paying for the meal - that's too much." It really wasn't that bad considering three people just ate dinner and it was probably a fraction of the cost of a Tapas meal I just had the previous weekend in NYC.

Me: "No it isn't dad, my treat."

Dad: "So you're paying for the meal - all of it?"

Me: Patiently "Yes dad, I want to give you something for your anniversary and I give you food."

Dad: "Really, you're really treating us?"

At which point I got it. (And on a side note, this isn't the exact dialogue, and Barbro was speaking too, but it gets my point across). My relationship with dad and money has always been very unique - created in part by both of us. I treat friends and other family occasionally. That's just the way I was brought up. But growing up, dad was the one that usually pulled out the wallet (sometimes complaining about the cost of things) and paid the tab/bill. As I grew up and was fiscally responsible, I started paying for things, but not with dad - he was my cash cow. Why would I pay for it, if dad could pay for it? I didn't realize that I hadn't adjusted my habits to include him. So the fact he was so incredulous that I was actually paying for a meal he had, made me realize I don't remember another similar incident and makes me wonder if this might have been the first time I paid for dad (it couldn't be, could it?).

So, my "take away" (a term dad had never heard of, and tried to use later, but confused it with "take off" and barbro than tried to use the next day and called it "take out" - you got to love the old folk), is that I need to buy a life jacket for myself, and treat dad to meals a bit more often - like maybe once a year or something.