Cranky George's Cafe

My Dad came up after the surgery to keep me company and feed me. My nickname in my family is Bear because of my attachment to a Teddy Bear that I had as a kid. I also had a blanket like Linus. I most relate to Linus as a Peanuts character. Philosophical and a sensitive thumb-sucker even though I look intimidating.

My Dad likes to call me Bear and he thankfully was feeding the Bear. He made a big pot of stew and I ate that for close to ten days. It was perfect. I didn't have to cook and I had companionship. I did tell my Dad to watch his humor because it hurt so much to laugh b/c my innards had been cut open and then re-sewn together. All he asked was free access to my pistachios and Jim Beam. Both of which he downed with pleasure.

He is just a naturally funny dude; at least I think so. His humor is old man cranky type of stuff. I could probably make millions if I packaged his thoughts about life in a compendium of the "Sayings of Cranky George." From there, I could establish the brand into hot sauce, beer, whiskey, peanuts, and the like. The products would be good and cheap with my dad's mug on the front label and with his sayings on the back. Might scare children.

The above picture is him serving up Cranky's George's finest. Eggs, cheese, bacon, and potatoes. Stirred into a delightfully delicious chaotic and caloric dish. Not exactly Bobby Flay or Giada gross bone-marrow sandwiches. Foo-foo foodies. This is gut-busting goodness that should have a Surgeon's General Warning on it. Bad for the body, good for the soul. Slathered in hot sauce.

When I was a child, my Dad made me edgy. He was big and gruff. Not particularly empathetic at the time to my struggles as a child (and I had many). I think his philosophy was that life is a hard and I am going to be hard on you so that you get that. He was no Mr. Rogers. When I became a man, I came to understand my Dad in a different light. It was one of those cases where he mellowed out, I matured out of my default defensiveness a bit, and we came to see things more eye-to-eye. He actually has to look up to me (he is 6' 4" and I am 6' 8"). When I grew to be bigger than him, it changed our relationship to one of more equals. He is still my Dad and I respect him, but I can also tell him he is full of crap (when he is) and vice-versa. That was a good day when I could be honest with him without recrimination.

In our family relationships, there are many heartaches. Our parents have a sin-nature and so do we. We as children often go from seeing our parents idealistically to viewing them as goofballs in our adolescent arrogance. Then, we grow up some and see that life is not as simple as that. Brokenness pervades our world and the remedies for repairing it go deeply into the heart of God and His plan of redemption. God does not spare the lash at times and I certainly have my scars from my family, others, and worst of all, my own hand. Don't give up on your parents. For God does not give up on you.

The road to reconciliation is a hard one. Step-by-step. Continuing to walk through life and not jettisoning another because of past hurts but hoping that things will get better. And they often do. It is just not easy. What is?