Memories of McDonald’s

January 30th: One year ago my husband and I took my Dad and stepmother to McDonald’s.  In my world this was a significant event.  Dad’s broken hip, followed by an unsuccessful pin and a desire to faithfully research options resulted in 7 months of extremely limited mobility and a desire not to go out for anything other than doctor’s visits.  Our usual outings during our visits ceased.  Then Dad had hip replacement surgery and within 30 days his mobility surpassed what it was before the fall allowing us to embark on our first outing – a trip to McDonald’s.  Sadly, this first outing was also to become our last.  One week later he was in the ICU for an unrelated issue and one month later he was gone.

The outing was also significant in that my Dad and stepmom had not been to McDonald’s in over 30 years.  My husband and I rarely went ourselves — usually just to stop for coffee and bathrooms on a road trip.  We usually treated them to a meal at a nice restaurant — places where my stepmother could dress up and Dad could enjoy good food and wine.  Places where they could capture a little of what their life had been like before age and health got in the way.

So what possessed us to go McDonald’s?  Dad loved studying the economy and the stock market.  He was a man who liked to validate what he read whenever possible.  Recently he’d read of the changes McDonald’s was making and wanted a first hand account of their success even going so far as to send my husband and I on a reconnaissance mission.  It was on this mission, a visit to the Livermore McDonald’s on one of our road trips, that my husband discovered the best lid dispenser ever — one that didn’t result in the contamination of a bunch of lids trying to get just one lid for your cup.  I took photos and wrote up our observations as if I had been asked to complete a homework assignment.  My Dad loved it, but still wanted to see the changes himself.  So on our visit a year ago we decided what the heck, let’s go to McDonald’s.  It was a little awkward navigating through the crowd with both their walkers (crowd = demand = good investment), but they kept up their spirits and ended up having a little fun.  Quarter Pounders all around except for me; I tried one of the new salads so I could report on the menu changes.  Dad even ordered a chocolate shake.  For a moment we all felt like kids again.

Dad and I never really spent a lot of time together.  It’s not that I didn’t want too, he just felt it was important for me to find my own way in the world.  His job was to provide the tools to send me down the right path.  My success as an adult was a reflection of his success as a father.  But a door opened as his health declined and I stepped through it.  My gratefulness for the extra time we had together in his final year, and most especially for memories like these, far outweigh the pain I suffer from his loss.  So today I am thankful for the McDonald’s memories.