December 12, 2007

Never a Cross Word

It’s good to be back. I’ve been in Sun City, Arizona, where the sunsets are breathtaking, or so they tell me. I wouldn’t know because I’ve spent ten days at my parents’ house looking at the floor.

While my father recuperated from emergency surgery that included re-attaching his left retina, it was my job to administer eye drops, apply cold compresses and remind him to keep his face parallel to the floor. The surgeon had inserted a gas-filled bubble into his eye to keep the retina in place while it healed. The prescribed face-down position allows the gas to rise, exerting gentle pressure on the retina to make sure it stays put. My Mom and I found ourselves keeping our heads down as well, like stage mothers who stand in the wings and mouth the words to their children’s solos.

For ten days, Dad has been looking at the floor, at the tabletop, at his feet, at MY feet…there’s not much you can do while looking down with one good eye. You CAN, however, do crossword puzzles, and a couple of days post-op, Dad was back into his morning routine, which includes working a crossword while drinking his coffee at 4:30 in the morning.

My parents’ preferred puzzle is the one in USA Today. It’s not too easy and not too hard (either one takes the fun out of it, I’m told). I was in charge of puzzle procurement for the duration, so every morning I printed out two copies of the puzzle from the USA Today web site – one for the one-eyed face-down man, and one for his wife with the sympathetically downcast eyes.

The folks would have the delirium tremens if they had to wait for their puzzle until I rolled out of bed at 7:30, so I downloaded a placebo puzzle the night before. I had plenty of time between their bedtime and mine. I printed out two copies and left them at their places on the kitchen table to appease them while I got some additional shut-eye.

By the time I got up, they had completed their appetizer puzzle plus the crossword in the Arizona Daily Star, and had collaborated on the Jumble, which, by law, my mother is required to complete before she can start her day.

It was so easy to fall into the old people routine. I started taking naps. I complained about the weather. I worried about my bowels. Soon I found myself repeating everything twice, announcing where I was going when I left the room, and saying things like “For pity’s sake!”

Before long, I was printing out THREE copies of the crossword puzzle and challenging the old folks to a race. I thought my youth and vigor would guarantee me first place, but in competitive crosswords, it’s experience that counts. My greater familiarity with pop culture was no match for my Dad’s arcane knowledge of Norwegian port cities and the names of Egyptian coins. I couldn’t compete with my mother’s recollection of B-movie actresses’ names. She speedily filled in Ida, Uta, Eva and Uma as I struggled to figure out which one starred in Exodus.

The puzzle routine not only gave us something to look at besides the placemats, it helped heal Dad’s sense of humor. One morning I excused myself mid-puzzle (“I’m going to the laundry room!”). When I again sat down and picked up my pen, I noticed that someone had written on my puzzle in blue ink. Since the rules of the game are “no cheating, no helping” I was confused. The writing was in Dad’s distinctive block lettering. Had his health crisis made him go soft? I bent down to look at his face and saw he was snickering. I looked at the puzzle again. In the middle of my crossword, he had printed in bold letters the word “SNORK.”