“Embrace the current season of your life.”

Now that we’re on Geezer Time, Church is at 4 p.m. at The Home, freeing up Sunday mornings for post-Starbucks visits with DooDaddy. The Doo and I reflect and ruminate on life and death, the profane and the mundane, the trivial and the meaningful moments of our week.

DooDaddy, perusing the prayer list: “Lord, is [redacted] still alive? He taught your mother in school. He must be a thousand years old. No wonder he’s not feeling well.”

DooDaddy, reading the obits: “Missy Dickey died, bless her heart. She was a beautiful girl. I remember the first time I saw her at a Girls’ Cotillion. She was wearing a strapless gold lamé dress, and she was just a knockout. I used to sell her fur coats all the time at Watson’s. She’s had a hard life.”

Me, noticing DooDaddy’s wet hair: “Did you forget to blow dry your hair?”

DooDaddy: “I can’t find my blowdryer. It’s the damndest thing. So I’ve been letting my hair air dry.”

Me: ” Since when? Do you need a new dryer? You might catch your death of cold.”

DooDaddy: “Well, we moved out in such a hurry …”

Me: “You mean you haven’t dried your hair in over two years?”

DooDaddy: “I guess that’s about right.”

Me: “How’s exercise class going?”

DooDaddy: “Well, I guess it’s OK. We have a new teacher, and she’s right perky. You know, a little of that goes a long way.”

Me: “What? Perkiness?”

DooDaddy: “Exactly. We had this guy substitute the other day, and he was better. More low key. Less perky.”

Me: “How was bridge Friday?”

DooDaddy: “I came in second, and I didn’t fall asleep!”

On that happy note, I fill up his water bottle and leave him with the latest John Grisham book.

DooDaddy is content, because he chooses to be, not because his life is perfect or even as he had envisioned it. With so much discontent swirling around us, it inspires me to see a widower on a walker taking pleasure in the little things. A successful trip to the store on the Shannondale van. A visiting minister’s sermon. Completing the crossword. Breakfast among friends. With soft scrambled eggs and crispy bacon. I swear in a previous life, my father must have been a yogi, because he understands how to be in the moment and savor it. Well played, DooDaddy.


DooDaddy perusing the prayer list