My father wasn't well.He pretended to be well.He went on with life as usual,being a father,driving eighty miles to work every day,and looking after his children during the hours our mother was working and he wasn't. He was very engaged on these occasions,unless he'd just worked a midnight shift,then he would sleep for a few hours while we watched television. Often in the afternoon we would go somewhere,usually the park.One time,he took some time to build a kite out of newspaper and sticks and we were off to fly it in the park.It didn't fly very well,but we still had a fun day.At the entrance to the park,there was an old stem locomotive,and in those days you could climb on it,and we did.But sometime in 1967,there came to be another exhibit at the entrance to the park.It was a sleek looking jet fighter that was suspended on a pedestal not far off the ground.So my father would put us up on his shoulders and we would try to touch the underside of that plane,even though we never could.Later, we'd go off to the playground and play on the swings and slides.When the weather got warmer that year,my father would take us to the wading pool,and that is where we would spend the afternoon.Later that year,our park was given a new name. Centennial Park.It was called that,my father said because our country was one hundred years old. But my father wasn't well.And he wasn't anywhere near one hundred years old. He was getting to the point where there were a lot of things he couldn't or didn't want to eat.Sometimes he would throw up.And his teeth were bothering him too.Still,he played the game.He would take us off to the park and, very much the air force man that he was, he would stand looking up at that plane and say how it was a shame that such planes were being "retired",and how the military in our country was all going to hell.He only looked slightly diminished compared to the time a year before when he'd stood across the street from our house talking to our babysitter.He was still young,just thirty three.But if you watched him long enough and hard enough, even if you were just a clild,as I was, you could tell that he had already lost a step.
