Ripples

I am 99.9% happy about completing my tour in Iraq and returning home. The .1% of me is wondering how much havoc my moving back home will cause to The Old Goat and Tinker.

(Before I continue, I need to say that the appellation, The Old Goat, refers to my Dad. It is used with affection but is descriptive of his contrary ways. Dad is in his mid-80s and is healthy and vital, active in his church, and always ready with an opinion on most any issue that arises.)

The Old Goat and Tinker have developed a rhythm. Every Thursday is pizza night, every Friday night is Burger King. Every Saturday morning is Jack’s Super Breakfast. Every Sunday afternoon at 4 is dinner.

I have been out of their loop for forty years. My return will impact their rhythm. To make matters worse, I am not a pizza fan. The last thing my waistline and my heart need is a Whopper. I could just stay home but that would cause as big a show as going. It is a quandary.

I wrote to Tinker the other day and asked if he wanted to go the West Point Lake MusicFest, a three-day event over Memorial Day weekend. I laid out a plan that we would drag the Airstream down to the Lake and enjoy the music with the comfort of having a living space close at hand. After I sent the message to him, I realized that if we go to the music festival, The Old Goat will go to Burger King and Jack’s alone. And, before you state the obvious, of course he is invited to go with us. (Here is where he really earns the title of The Old Goat.) I can hear his reaction when asked. “Why, hell no, I don’t want to get caught up in the s#&ttin’ mess.” And, on and on. All the time knowing that if he went he would have a heck of a good time. The man is stubborn.

All of that got me thinking about how me interjecting myself back into their lives is going to cause ripples. That is the .1% concern I have. Part of the reason for relocating onto the land in Chambers County is to be around for The Old Goat. Tinker has carried all the load of keeping an eye out for him without complaint. And, other than his insistence upon eating at 4 pm, and his curious ways, The Old Goat is self-sufficient. I have no doubt that he’ll outlive both Tinker and me. Could be that I moving back so that The Old Goat can keep an eye on me.

Whatever the situation is, is. And, if I cause problems, well, it is family. They are the ones who will cut you a sprout when you cause a dust-up. I am banking on it.