Papa feels always conflicted, always less than a man, given his circumstances. He grew up in a different culture, in a different time. The evolving role of women, the changed family dynamics, were lost on him. Being single for most of his life, and isolated to his cultural network of Italian men, he never had to adapt for any great part.

And now, he lives with us. In a family that has perfected the art of modern living. A wife and mother who runs her own business and has authority to pay bills, drive to Washington DC-alone! – and can buy a car without her husbands signature. And a husband and father who gets push back from his kids, washes clothes, and takes responsibility for caring for the families menagerie of pets.

And these kids. One in L.A. (So far away, will he never come home?), one in Brooklyn and a daughter who lives home, but doesn’t have an obligation to care for the home and can come and go as if she were her own person…..

These things are just a few of the things that confuse and confound Papa. “I don’t understand”, he says often.

And so he writes his own narrative, fabricating wildly to place all that is in disarray into proper context for his life.

“Papa, Victor shared with me, while you were gone, that he did not like you leaving without doing the laundry.”

“My Victor?”  I ask, looking to see my fathers reaction to my questioning his statement.

“Yes, papa, I would not make these things up. Sometimes a man cannot say what he wants because, you know, you women can have great emotion, and, well, we don’t always want to hear that.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I’ll apologize to him when he gets back.”

“No, papa, don’t say anything, he will be embarrassed that I mentioned it.”

When Vic travels for contract work, Papa always assumes a self directed role of “man of the house “, taking on all of Victors ‘duties’, as Papa calls them.  It pleases him, but stresses me.  He is up at the crack of dawn to feed the animals- cats, dogs and birds alike. But invariably he puts cat food in the dog dish and dog food in the cat dish or some combination therein. And kitty litter in the bird feeder. Then he starts the tea kettle for coffee, but only fills it half way or less, in spite of instructions to fill it to overflowing so he knows it’s full. And then he tries to walk the dogs, who just wander around in circles, confused as to who and why this person has them out at all. Then they come in and pee on the furniture.

After the feeding he makes the coffee, and leaves the burners on. Then he brings the recyclables to the garage, where he hides them so they cannot be found until we clean on the weekend. He brings the compost bag to the compost pile, but never in a straight line, wandering our small yard looking for it for well over five minutes. Each and every day.

It’s quite the morning. But he feels in charge. The man of the house. And so it is worth it.

After cleaning this all up, I will usually remind Papa that I have a work day and ask him to put on his Life Guardian tool. It clips on his belt and detects falls, as well as acts as a LoJack if he were to wander off.  He always asks what it is. We go through the instructions each time and press the button. The attendant on the other end is kind and patient.  I love her. I don’t know if she realizes this.

Papa is a busy man when Vic is gone. I am a busy woman when Vic is gone. I don’t know who is more relieved when Victor comes home- me or Papa.