Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Is my father a good Catholic bookie?
From the moment I announced my decision to have Lapband surgery, I have been fortunate and blessed to have lots of folks in my daily life sitting on the sidelines cheering me on. I was never at a loss for encouraging words, compliments and kudos. Well, except at home. Carmen doesn't say a word. Toni will respond when asked and Vince is just oblivious. Perhaps the old adage is true--they don't even see me. I wonder--would they be able to pick me out in a crowd? I suppose if I was carrying a bowl of pasta and meatballs they would.
As for my father--that man is a whole other story. He loves my Lapband and tells everyone about it. Everyone. Cashiers. Mail carriers. Neighbors. Random people who hold the door for him. Telephone solicitors. Political campaign workers. Yep, just about anyone he sees or talks to. Last week at mass, Pete, our usher friend, complimented me on my weight loss and asked how I did it. The only reason why he didn't know about it yet is because my father and I hadn't seen him in quite some time. Believe me, if my father would have seen him, he would have told him. But, Pete beat him to it--he asked. Before I could get a word out, my father told him "she had weight loss surgery, she still some more weight to lose". I guess he takes the whole 9th commandment (do not lie) very seriously. Was it his way to protect me from breaking it right there in church? Was he worried I'd tell Pete the usher that I went on a diet and didn't want to lose one more pound? That man raised me. He should know very well that I have the fear of God and church and anyone remotely involved with any vocation within the Catholic religion. I wouldn't lie to a church usher. Hell, I wouldn't lie to a church mouse. In addition to his love of my Lapband, my weight loss is his favorite spectator sport. My father takes great care to keep score, maintain records and make predictions on outcomes of my weight loss. The man could see me everyday for a week and he asks me the same questions-- "are you still loosing?" or "how much off today?" or "how much are you supposed to lose now?" Makes me wonder if he takes bets in the mailroom of his condo building on my weight loss. Or, maybe he runs a number ring. He could be an Irish bookie (learned the ropes from my Italian uncles)...using my daily weight to book the bets. You just never know with him. Maybe he's not saying the rosary every morning during his "do not disturb" hour. That might be his bookie time.
God Bless my father.....