We met my oldest brother, Bob, and his wonderful wife, Dorothy, for brunch at Perkins in Menomonie this morning. Perkins always gets me to thinking about my dad as he loved going to Perkins for their pancakes.
This got me to thinking of the last years of his life. I know I've talked about this before, but those were especially poignant times for me and for dad. He really loved my buttemilk pancakes. the secret, by the way, to a really fluffy buttermilk pancake is to separate the eggs and whip the whites until stiff and then fold the whites into the batter with a spatula. They will literally spring when you pour the batter onto a hot cast iron griddle.
I would get up very early, make the trip to the farmstead via the back way, and have the pancake batter prepared before mom would awaken dad.
Towards the end, he had a rather unsteady hand and I relished helping him eat his breakfast by carefully cutting up pieces of the cakes and syrup and feeding him a bit at a time. It made me feel so good that he was at the point where he could accept where he was in his life and would actually let me feed him without getting angry.
Those were very special mornings.
I also liked going over to the farm to take him to doctor's appointments in his wheel chair because I made it fun, popping wheelies with him in the chair in the clinic parking lot, then double timing across the lot in through the handicapped entrance and down the long halls.
It was also a time of pride for me because everybody knew Jack and many people knew me as his son and as a performer, so we both got a lot of "props" from friends and acquaintances as we made our way down the hall.
Bob and I were reminising this morning about the time Bob, on his way back to River Falls University, had car trouble out on Highway 29 west.
He walked back (east) to the nearest farm, run by the Cave family, folks we knew as we had pastured cattle there in the past, and called Jack to inform him that he needed help. When dad asked him where he had broken down, Bob told him "this side of Cave's".
Of course, to Robert, that meant west of Cave's but to my dad it meant east of Cave's so dad went slowly along 29 all the way to Cave's, then turned around and went back, wondering how in hell he could have missed Bob's broken down vehicle.
When he got close to reaching Menomonie, dad turned around, by now really peeved, and headed west on 29 again. this time he went past Cave's and eventually found Bob, who was equally aggravated, wondering what the hell was taking his dad so long to get to him.
Dad never let Bob forget that one.
Sometimes, when I get to thinking about my mom and dad, I forget that I am in my sixties, especially when I am reminiscing with a brother.
We had a great time sharing pancakes at Perkins!
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