Tuesdays With Pappo: "ALEXA, AI and WEBBED TOES"

 #tuesdayswithpappo

ALEXA, AI and WEBBED TOES

This week......at our Braums Favorite Booth, Pappo and I accomplished the following life issues:

1) Remodeling his apartment (okay...okay...LIZ remodeled his apartment on the backside of the kids menu. Dad looked less than happy to change out his recliners and conglomeration of desks for a sectional sofa in cream with a round coffee table and drapes to soften the window). This will probably (0kay..NEVER) happen.

2) Shared I was bringing him an Alexa to turn on and off his lights for him. His response? Whose Alexa and can she do the dishes?

3) Looked through every single carton of ice cream in the ice cream store for his beloved Cherry Chocolate Chip. Never found it.....

4) And last, but not least, we talked webbed toes. Yes...Pappo has webbed toes on both feet.....as does his son.....as does his youngest daughter Liz. But it dawned on me while sitting eating my Braums Kids Chicken Tender Meal that I had never seen Pappo's toes. So once we returned to his apartment, I started pulling off his socks and comparing. WOW. We had the very same toes webbed and at the exact same length. I actually took a picture of our feet together to prove it, but I'm pretty sure you don't want to see that.....trust me....you DO NOT want to see this.

And the greatest thing that happened this week? I heard my Dad laugh a nice long full laugh....a "showed-his-teeth-kind-of-laugh".

Best day ever......

Tuesdays With Pappo - Property For Sale

#tuesdayswithpappo

PAPPO: (Phone rings.....its a developer wanting to buy his house in Garland thats not for sale). "Helllllo?"

DEVELOPER: "Mr. Calloway, this is Mr. So&So with We-Want-Your-House. We were hoping you might be interested in selling us your home at ____ in Garland, TX."

PAPPO: "Noooooo.....I've lived in that house for 30 years (truth is, he's lived there 61 years...but whose counting?). I'm not at all interested in selling it."

DEVELOPER: "We're prepared to give you a good price. Can we come talk to you about it?"

PAPPO: "Nah.....not interested. HOWEVER, I do have 2 lots in Richardson I would consider selling."

DEVELOPER: (Voice excited....) "Oh really.....what are they like?"

PAPPO: "They're beautiful lots.....trees....privacy and I'll make you a good price on them."

DEVELOPER: "Oh yes....we'd definitely be interested! Can you tell me where in Richardson they are?"

PAPPO: "Sure. They are located just off Greenville Ave."

DEVELOPER: (Voice even more excited to hear that) "Can you give me the address please? We'd love to go see them!"

PAPPO: "You bet. Just look for the Restland Cemetary sign and you're there. My two lots are under a beautiful tree!!"

DEVELOPER: Click.....

I've never been more proud of my Pappo....EVER.

Tuesdays With Pappo: "A Different Kind of Thursday"

 A Different Kind of Thursday

When I walked into his room on Thursday, he wasn’t in his usual spot. Instead of his well-worn leather chair, he was sitting in the roll-around desk chair, turned toward the door like he’d been waiting. It was a small change, but it felt big to me. And I have to admit—it was good to see him somewhere new.

“We’re shaking things up today,” I said with a smile.

Instead of our usual booth at Braum’s, we took a short drive down the road to Mr. Jim’s Pizza. It wasn’t the smoothest outing, however. We wrestled with flies, tried to cut the pizza with a spoon (thankfully, Dad’s pocket knife saved the day as they had no knives in the restaurant), and laughed at the craziness of it all. But as we settled in and he sipped his Diet Coke, the conversation turned reflective—like it so often does with him.

He spoke of his longing to move back to Garland—his home for 63 years. A place where life had been easy and good.  A place where home felt, well.....like home.

Then he asked a question that caught me off guard:

“What would you like most for me, at this time in my life, Softie?”

I didn’t have to think. “I want more than anything for you, Pappo, at the age of 97, to look “forward” instead of “backward.”

He did the old JC-head-tilt and looked at me, curious.

“You’re in the home stretch now,” I continued gently. “And more than anything, what your Softie wants is for you to face the rest of your story with Hope. Hope for a bright future!  Like a man on a long, hard road trip, you’re close to turning that final corner. And just ahead? Home.”

Not Garland. But Heaven.

“Think about it,” I said. “No more walkers. No more hearing aids. No more glasses. And best of all—you’ll see Jesus— with His arms wide open, ready to give you that bear hug He promised. That’s what’s waiting for you, Pappo—eternity...real life, the kind that never ends."

He looked down, silent. Then gave that Pappo-slight-head-tilt of his—his quiet way of saying everything, without saying a word:

“I hope so, Softie,” he whispered. “I hope so.”

I grabbed his strong hand, just as I have for 65 of my own years, and gave it a squeeze.....

“I KNOW so, Pappo, I know so.”