Differences

There are a number of things that I do that give The Old Goat heartburn. And, there are things that he does that cause me to wonder if he and I are of the same genetic material. None of this is new. It has been this way all of my life. Now that he and I are of a more mature age, we’ve moved to a deferential acceptance of the other. He is not going to change and neither am I. In that way, we are both stubborn.

Dad likes Hee-Haw. Every Saturday night he watches re-runs of the show on RFD-TV. It never ceases to amaze me how a grown person could sit through an hour of such non-sense. But, he likes it. He laughs even though he has seen each episode a number of times. He likes the music and the corn.

I like opera. My Dad thinks it is noise, and unpleasant at that. He usually says something to the effect, “how can you stand all that screaming?” when he visits and I am listening to a Verdi or Puccini piece.

The Old Goat loves flea markets. He was telling me about the guy at the flea market who was selling a Stradivarius violin. I mentioned to Dad that every known Stradivarius has been accounted for but the fact does little to dissuade him. The guy at the flea market wants $2,000 for his treasure. The Old Goat is mulling it over. A few years ago, a genuine Stradivarius sold for $3.5 million. I think the one at the flea market might be a fake.

I like golf. I am a bogey golfer. My abilities are measured against how often I play. Regular rounds produce lower scores. My Dad can’t figure out why anybody would chase a little white ball around a pasture. According to him, he played once but did not care for it. Yeah, right.

Dad likes buffets. A good buffet has nothing to do with flavor or taste. It is all about how much can be piled on the plate and how little it cost. His favorite buffet was in Branson where he and The Blessed Saint Rebecca pigged out at Starvin’ Marvin’s for $2.98 each. He still speaks of it with lip-smacking fondness. To me, buffets are slopping the hogs. Just dump it in the trough and stand back.

I am a reader. Started early and continues to be one of my favorite things to do. But, it is more than a pastime. Reading is fundamental to learning and growing. Dad figures there is no reason to read when you can just as easily watch it on TV. As a kid, I set up a “reading room” in the wash-house. It was the place where I could escape Hee-Haw and discussions of treasures discovered at the flea market.

It is easier to have these differences with The Old Goat now than when I was a teen living under his roof. Now, if I don’t want to watch re-runs of the Porter Waggoner Show, I head for my place and put on some Bizet, Delibes or Offenbach. That way, Dad and I can pity the other for what he is missing.