The day Dad talked to a banana

Back in the day, before everybody had a cellphone in their pocket, my folks had a phone on the kitchen counter.

Next to the phone, they had a fruit bowl.

One night at dinner, the phone rings. Dad gets up from the table, picks up a banana, and says "hello?"

That was at least thirty years ago. We laughed uproariously, but there was also a dark edge.

Has Dad taken the on-ramp to the dementia highway?

The dude is gonna be 90 this year, God bless him!

And all the marbles are still rolling in the right direction.

I bring this up because we've recently been wondering where I am with respect to that on-ramp.

This afternoon me and the Farm Manager settled in front of the TV to binge watch the doc about Janet Jackson. I was never a fan, but I have a new respect for her now.

This went on most of the afternoon, and at some point I felt I needed a snack.

Fixed myself a dish of pickled beets, a pickled egg, and a slab of blue cheese on caraway rye toast.

And what a tasty snack!

But back to the point. I got up to wash up my dish, got to the sink, and realized I forgot to bring the dish.

The other day, I got up from my usual perch in front of the fire, meaning to grab a beer out of the fridge.

On the way to the fridge, I thought maybe I'll step out for a breath of fresh air before I get the beer.

I was back on the couch before I remembered I forgot the beer.

So I get up again. Bruno is by the kitchen door with his throw-toy. I figure I'll just step out and entertain him a bit. The Big Boy makes me laugh out loud multiple times per day.

It's the least I can do.

Fifteen minutes later, I take my place in front of the fire again...

Oh, for fucks sakes!

Still no beer!

I don't know what that means for the long term. 

Plenty of dementia on Mom's side.

None on Dad's side.

Another reason I just want to be like you, Dad!