NATIONALIZE ME

When my old man came home from the Korean War, 14 months after my birth, he hung up his apron in my grandfather's butcher shop, donned the early 50's business man suit and became a stock broker. So when all the financial shit hit the fan today I naturally called him to get the two cents. "Why is it....?" I queried, "that the government is so ready to Nationalize Fanny and Freddy and Lehman and Merrill and Lynch and Stearns and Behr and be so afraid of turning pink with healthcare?" He was ready with the standard theory of pharmaceutical/insurance/doctor cabal and fat cat lobbyists. As far as the 500 point drop, fear of bank runs, and overall meltdown was concerned, I could hear him shrug over the phone. Enough wine, food and cable and he and my mom were happy campers.
What the old man really wanted to talk about was his weekend trip to visit brother Duke in Maine. The man has one good eye and one good arm, won't let my mother drive, and drives six hours in traffic jams and rain storms to visit the Maine kin. Duke suggested a restaurant, and then lost him on the road to the place. By the time the old man figured out that he really WAS following Duke the whole time (something about roof racks), he was tight. Then the bad food took forever, and the waitress was worthless, ect. Since I was a kid I remember my father can be a miserable SOB when he gets flustered. Put bad service on that and look out. Duke remembers the time he brought the whole 5 kid young family into a restaurant,unpacked us and when things went bad,he just gathered us all up and we left without eating. It was traumatic for little Duke to be pulled crying and screaming from that restaurant. He was a fragile little feller.
What the old man didn't know was that Duke had called me by cell from the table relaying the all too familiar scene. Mom ever cheerful, Esak making a Chinese boat out of his white roll and mayo "Rubin", and the old man miserably brooding across the table. Duke was giggling uncomfortably over the scratchy connection. "We make light of everything." he said "He-he." and then changed the subject. I knew exactly what was going on at that table. But this time the poor old timer would have to brood alone. Everyone else was having a fine time. I told him this, as he was trying to concentrate on the market ticker on the end of the line. He just dismissed me and passed the phone. Then my mother got on and filled me in on how much of a sour puss he was. She said she didn't have to kick him under the table, but it was close. They're both so damned cute.
By this time I had forgotten that I had called for the financial advice. They went on about my sister and brother and the grandkids and my mother assured me that as long as she could pay bills, eat and drink, she really didn't care about my inheritance. I was good with that. And to be honest I could tell that the old man was finally coming around to that way of thinking also. One more Black Monday? Big deal. My mom doesn't each much. They could let a few bills go late and put a pin in the thermostat, like gramp used to do. As long as there's enough wine.