Ch-ch-ch-changes...

This post is about my dad.

The picture above is not my dad. It's Ed Asner (aka Lou Grant from the old Mary Tyler Moore Show). Dad looks a lot like Ed Asner. And he's also that sort of blustery, good-natured-but-can-come-off-as-gruff-til-he-smiles kind of guy.

A cousin once described Dad as a cross between Shrek and the Dalai Lama. I've seen pictures of both of them that resembled him. But as he and Ed Asner have aged, they've started to look like twins.

Aged. They've aged.

Dad's almost 83. (For those of you counting on your fingers, let me leap right in emphasizing that my parents had children late in life. So although your Cupcake is admittedly d'une age certaine, she's still younger than Madonna. And at least that hot.)

Almost every day, I talk to my parents in Florida. (I know, I know-- a planet to choose from and they go from Dayton to Port Richey. What were they thinking?) But they're very cool people.

I work with Senior Citizens, and I know age is relative. Some at 74 are much much older than others at 104. My parents are still active people, taking trips, following current events, making plans. They're still in the game.

But then...yesterday, when I called home, Dad told me he'd had a car accident. He's fine. The other guy's fine. (The vehicles are not so fine. But who cares.)

"Honey, I coulda really clobbered the guy," Dad said. "I didn't even see him."

He's decided he's not driving any more.

When he told me that, in the car myself, I practically slammed on the brakes.

Did he mean it? If it's really at that point, I credit him for having enough self-awareness to make that huge concession. But if he does stop driving, if he steps down from that activity voluntarily, nobly, because it's time-- then what does that mean?

It's shaken me.

I mean, he's always driven. Ever since I've known him. He gets around.

Like, at 82, this past year, my father started dealing in vintage jewelry. He's never had interest in jewelry or shopping. But he's developed one, going several times a week to flea markets and estate sales, reading books on 20th century costume design, carrying magnifying glasses to look at tiny imprints in metal that he's learned to decode and classify. Why? Because he's smart, and he knows that at his age, he needs to keep learning new things, keep his mind active. And he's been having a blast, learning this stuff, making new friends, finding treasures.

And now he's going to give that up, because he's not going to drive. He's conceding to age with a shrug and a non-plussed "Oh, well." He'll just read more, he says. Play on the internet. Watch the news, regretting daily the choice he made at the polls. (Not that it matters, especially in Florida.)

Oh, Mom'll drive him around. His golfing buddies will pick him up for their weekly game, or to go hit balls at the driving range. The neighbor friend Dick will shuttle him sometimes. But to give up driving---! That's a huge chunk of independence. And he's not making a big deal about it because-- well, he's never been into drama.

I, on the other hand, am truly shaken. Are they really old now? Have I been in denial? THIS IS MY DAD, guys. Not some old man. But-- my dad's 83 in two months. I guess he is an old man. How did this happen?

Now it's my turn to count on my fingers and realize that I've been procrastinating about visiting them. Haven't been there since April. Meant to go August. And September. And October. But still have made no plans.

Now I'll go. Soon. Drive him to the flea markets, myself. Talk to him about rhinestones. Spend some quality time.

The Mary Tyler Moore Show was one of the best TV shows in the history of television. But one day it was canceled. One day, it just wasn't there any more.

I'm making a reservation to Florida tomorrow. I gotta go see my dad.