A couple of weeks ago, while visiting my dad, he asked me what chipmunk hair was.
Chipmunk hair? I can only imagine my facial expression. Even now, my brows knit, lines between them deepen, my right eye half closes and my eyes cross.
I had never heard of chipmunk hair, and said so. I suggested that perhaps someone’s hair was striped, suggestive of a chipmunk’s coat. Dad picked up the book he was reading, found the passage and began to read, “…she reached up for her hair, pulling it back and sweeping it up into a tidy c..h..i..g..n..”
“Oh, a chignon. It ‘s twisting hair into a bun.” I said. Then I felt the same facial distortion as I thought, “What in the name of all that is holy is my father reading anything with the word ‘chignon’ in it?”
The book was by a three named woman, Mary Darcy Something or Mary Patrick Something, a hand-me- down read from my sister.
God bless him, my dad is not enjoying a lot these days and reading is his one escape. It seems to engage him in a way TV does not. We got cable TV thinking that he would like the History Channel but he relies on “Channel 13”, the local ABC affiliate that is not even broadcast on channel 13, which annoys him no end. “Why can’t they leave things the way they are?”
Indeed, dad would be happy with the way things were- my mother, his wife of 54 years, would still be alive, he would not have had three hip replacement surgeries, would be able to get around without a wheel chair or walker, would be self sufficient and able to live alone and still drive. He would not have to depend on anyone to do what he needs or wants to do and his investments would be supporting his lifestyle.
So, I did not say anything about the book and I agree with him that things would be easier if they would not change.
And so it is. Karen
