Grocery Shopping with Dad...a Mirror for Me

I spent the afternoon with my Mom and Dad...first at Chili's for lunch, then with Dad at Cub Foods on Texas Avenue in St. Louis Park, Minnesota for a mega-shopping expedition. My
Dad, Al (or Big Al as many call him) has been getting over a cold that has settled in his chest. Between coughs and looks at my Mom's extensive list, we had a chance to connect among the various vegetables in the immense produce section.

I have an annual migration to St. Louis Park, a city of 50,000 or so in the southwestern suburbs of Minneapolis. Their house is actually only two blocks from the city and within a short walk of three beautiful lakes (Cedar Lake, Lake of the Isles, and Lake Calhoun {don't ask why it isn't Lake Cedar}). All of the lakes have beautiful paths around them that are wonderful to hike when the weather is nice, which it was today. But, of course, being Minnesota, tomorrow it is going to snow.

Dad and I talked about his role as a "shlepper". This is a Yiddish term that means one who goes to get for someone else, usually in this case Dad for Mom. Passover time is a busy season for shleppers and I consider myself an honorary shlepper when Mom begins the cooking ritual for the upcoming Seders. This year will be the first that Mom and Dad haven't hosted it since I was a toddler.

I'm feeling the energy of things changing, even as I return to the same house I grew up in. The house has new siding and roof, courtesy of the insurance company thanks to last summer's hailstorm. There is new paint on some of the walls (since the house itself may be transitioning as my parents move to the next stage of their lives).

It feels odd to return and see the change that my family that lives here sometimes misses because it happens so gradually.

What I saw today was my Dad's tendency to be particular about simple things:

• How to double bag (I learned that you don't open the inside bag until it's in; actually a helpful hint).
• How to interpret my Mom's grocery list (get one of each option). When I called on this one, my Mom actually asked for one of each.
• How to pick apples (red tastes better).
• How to give the right of way to a pedestrian (avoid hitting her and go first).

My Dad is slowing down; won't take a pleasure walk, but has no problem with shlepping. He says that if he has a choice of which to do, why not do the one that is needed. I see this as his philosophy of life: love is duty to those we love...we do for them as a way to show them they are loved. Mom and Dad regularly do for one another (as my partner Steve and I try to do in Maryland). I think it keeps them going. What I see is that I was raised by parents who tried to do the right thing, literally, for me and demanded the same thing from me in return. I may not always succeed, but I try to be what Steve terms "a good citizen". I think I get this from these two lovable shleppers who raised me.