Men Have More Fun

My father had more fun than my mother. I noticed this when I was five and my brother was born. My dad got to take a train every day into the big exciting city and my mother stayed home wringing her hands drumming up drama. Her misery increased by the minute. My father drank strong French Market percolated coffee each morning. It turned dark brownish gray when he added milk. After breakfast he drove one mile to the train station. Saturdays he wore sneakers, played the phonograph records and sometimes danced while watering the plants. He would be in a good mood. Then he would sit in his Eames chair and do the NYT crossword puzzle while smoking his pipe. Sometimes he watched football with my Grandfather Nat on TV. They would be shouting at the players, laughing and smoking cigars. In the warm weather my dad and his dad, grandpa Paul and grandpa Nat and few other men played bocce in the backyard shaded by the Japanese Maples. I wanted to grow up to have a life like my dad.