Ear Dis

The above-pictured abyss is my father’s ear. Dangling pendulums of skin and fur that hang off my father’s head, these massive floppy hearing discs often serve as a crystal ball into my future. For his 65th birthday he requested the top of the line, diamond tipped, Sharper Image ear and nose hair trimmer with (spelunking) light attached. I wept in my birthday cake after I gave it to him. He promised to leave it for me in his will. Even worse, within 6 months, he informed me the machine couldn’t handle the black forest that are his ears, and the motor burnt out. He was back to using the old scissors to help in his daily maintenance.

This past weekend I returned home to the Philly-burbs to celebrate in meat father’s day, my parent’s anniversary, and my sister’s birthday. It was there I saw that my father had purchased himself a bluetooth earpiece. I applaud the man for making an attempt at safety while driving (he still rarely uses his seatbelt), but watching him endeavor to put this in his ear was a bit like a toddler trying to slip onto the tilt-a-whirl at the amusement park. If they make an extra large device, my father didn’t get it, and he needed to not only put it in his ear, but to also constantly use his hand hold it onto the side of his head. I think he was hoping that with speed his ear hair and wax that can grow, it would, at some point, overcome the earpiece and lock it in place. I imagine the next time I see him it will seem that he has half an ear muff attached to his head with an Bluetooth device buried, like a lost treasure, beneath the soft pillow of hair, wax, and miscellaneous refuse caught in the air. If I am lucky, I too will have inherited this fine family trait.