My father finally seems to be enjoying his retirement. Which is great. I know he likes to travel and he’s getting to do that, going on job interviews and visiting family. After all he spent about 40 years supporting out family. Through the stress of layoffs and knowing/suspecting/being told he only held onto his as a matter of minority and then seniority and never being able to find a different job (and that’s gotta do something to your ego), I’m glad he’s finally enjoying himself. Not just sitting around (I believe getting depressed and angry) waiting to eventually die, which the family knows if he didn’t have a job or something to do he would just quit living.

So by rights, this is his time, and while I don’t begrudge him that it is grudgingly that I am part of his travel experience. I know, I owe him, blah-ditty-blah-blah. But it’s the surprise attacks, the unexpected arrivals, the pick me up from the suburbs, the I’ll be on the coast and then visiting you but I won’t tell you when and I wont give you a number you can reach me at. The lack of consideration for those he’s descending upon. I really hope the rest of the relatives he’s visiting don’t feel the same way, I really hope he treats them better, but part of me doesn’t. I mean I’d want him to be welcome back wherever he goes, but I don’t want to think its just his immediate family he has complete disregard for. After all, I know when I’m being set up as the mark.

“She's a grifter, just like her brother. They probably had grifter parents and grifter grandparents and
someday they'll each spawn little grifter kids—“
~Miller's Crossing