The Pop

I stayed with my Pop last night, as I do every Monday night. When I got there at 7,30 he was sitting in his chair listening to his audio books as usual, only tonight he was in his robe with a bandage on his right hand. My aunt greeted me and told me that he'd had a fall on Sunday. There were no broken bones, but he did have a skin tear on the arm which he used to break his fall. I swear the man has bones of iron - or rubber - they never break when he falls.

Note: When I refer to "Pop", I'm talking about my grandfather: my dad's dad to be more specific. I don't know if it's an Aussie thing or what, but there seems to be some confusion so consider it un-confused.

Because of his lively personality he's never seemed all that "old" to me, at least not in the strictest sense, although he was 70, grey and balding when I was born. But he's always been full of life and laughs and because of this he never seemed as old as he was.

Let me say right here that I don't consider 70 to be "old". There seems to be a common understanding among kids my age and younger that 40 and 50 is old. If they are old, what does that make a 92 year-old? To my mind, 40 and even 50 are still young; 80 and 90 are creeping towards "old", but I really don't give a shit either way. I just wanted to point that out in case I offend any of my readers.
Back to the story:

In many ways he's a contradiction, my Pop. He's very "old school" in some ways and not at all in others. He was a draftsman and engineer by trade, so he continues to be very mechanically minded - always wanting to know how things work, always wanting to fix things rather than replace them. It is because of him that I do all my measuring in inches and feet, despite metrication occurring well before my birth. Because of his mechanically oriented mind, I have successfully been able to explain ebay and email to him using simple machinery analogies. Draftsmanship being a precise vocation, he still talks with a preciseness that at times irritates me, the hurried gen-Y boy that I am.

Yet in other ways, he doesn't act or think anything like you would expect a 92 year old to act or think. He is a staunch advocate for cohabitation marriage. "Try before you buy" he calls it - figure out if you are compatible before signing a marriage certificate on the dotted line. I remember in eighth grade when we did sex ed, the teacher said that "your grandparents' generation probably wouldn't approve of sex or living together before marriage" and I remember thinking, at 14, what a cool Pop I had. Although I'm sure that part of it is the fact that practically speaking break-ups are considerably easier when there is no marriage involved, I'm also sure that part of the reason is that he thinks everyone should get laid as much as possible.

Exhibit A: I called him one day in summer a few years ago. I had been to the beach the day before and gotten horribly burnt all over my chest and back. I looked like a man in lobster's clothing. We were chatting about various goings on and I mentioned I hadn't slept well:
Me: I had a terrible night's sleep last night, kept tossing and turning.
Pop: Why's that? Bad dreams?
Me: No, sunburn. We went to the beach and I got a bit too much sun ... My chest and back are burnt. It's so bad I had to sleep naked with only one sheet on because it hurt too much from the weight of the blankets and stuff ... I just couldn't get comfortable.
Pop: Well nothing wrong with sleeping naked is there? Who did you sleep with, that's the question?
Me: No-one, just me.
Pop: Well then that's no fun. No sense in sleeping naked when you're alone is there?

Exhibit B: For his 90th birthday we had a big party with all the family and friends invited. We set up a marquee in his backyard and had a barbecue. He was seated at the head of the table, my uncle brought over a plate of food for him, my aunt brought him a drink, another aunt helped him into his seat, someone else brought him the salt and pepper. I was sitting beside him, having got my own plate, drink, and condiments myself. I remarked that he was being treated like royalty:
Me: Wow, it's like you're royalty isn't it? Everyone waiting on you hand and foot. All you need now is some virgins to fan you with palm fronds and the scene would be complete.
Pop: Did somebody say virgins? (big grin)

Being that he's never really seemed that old, on account of his youthful spirit, it was a little weird seeing this frail old man sitting there quietly in his chair, nodding off every now and then. I realised this morning, while sitting at the bus stop on the way home, that he is old and probably won't be around much longer.