Saturday, February 20, 2010

White Man in the House

My father, 89, lives with me. Right now it's 11:15 p.m. or so, and I'm half-watching that "scary" movie, The Ruins, with white people imploding because they're someplace they don't belong. So, I hear my father coming with his walker down the hall, and he comes into the living room and the conversation goes like this.

"Nordette, you know I've been sleeping most of the day?"

"Yes, Dad. I saw you sleeping in the easy chair when I went through earlier today," I said.

"And yeah. Then I went and got in the bed."

"Uh-hm," I said.

"Well, when I went to sleep, I had the television on. Must have been the news. Police were arresting somebody. And you know where my television is in my room," he said.

"Yes." He has a 32-inch HDTV at the foot of his bed.

"Well, I just woke up, and I saw this man and I thought, Now you know this is something. This white man done broke into the house. Because I saw him coming toward me. And then I realized it was on the TV. Now you know that's something! I think it must be this medicine."

It could be his medicine. I'll be going to the doctor with him this week, but medicine or not, I laughed at the vision of him, an 89-year-old black man in Louisiana, waking up and being that calm about the possibility a strange white man was at the foot of his bed.

1 comment:

msladydeborah said...

It could be the meds. My dad would of pulled his gun and probably shot the television out.

There is an irony to how calm your dad was about a Whiteman coming into your house.