Neil Diamond never changes.

I went to my Neil Diamond concert on Tuesday. It was my birthday present to me. I took my Dad, too. Kind of belated father's day present. I flew him in on Saturday and he left again on Wednesday.

I was an odd couple of days. We filled the time with fun activities, and I did have a good time, but I felt strangely depressed and anxious through most of it. It's amazing how little one can find to say to someone they have known their whole lives. I think we ran out of conversation topics the first night. After that, we bonded over our love of food, and spent most of our time stuffing it in our faces to reduce the need for talking. That, or we watched TV. I don't want to eat or watch TV ever again. I'm full.

Otherwise the choices were 'Viet'nam or joint problems. I have no experience with either, so it tended to be pretty one sided. The amazing thing was how any topic could be manipulated into a Vietnam experience or some story of death or severe pain - joint or otherwise. I mention a friend who dwells on a bad experience from college that keeps him from leaving home, Dad says, "that guy should have gone to 'nam, then he'd have trauma...Nah, he'd never make it through bootcamp. They hate mamma's boys." When I asked him the story line of a movie, he gave a recap of his favorite violent scene. Knowing that some guy shoots some other guy is supposed to make me feel like I watched it or something. This stuff wouldn't' be so bad, but it is every conversation, every reaction, every time there is nothing to say. Driving through a parking lot we see an old man walking up to the building. "Yup! He's got back problems." There are handicapped people being pushed in wheelchairs, heads tilted slightly, drooling, but smiling wide. "Yeah, people like that make me think maybe I don't have it so bad." This was slightly positive, but really, how can you compare back problems and a hip replacement to someone confined to a wheelchair who can't eat on their own?

It feels like 'nam happened after I left home rather than before I was born. I don't remember my childhood being so saturated with combat commentaries. We knew Dad was in a war. We knew Dad knew things about drinking, smoking, and shooting guns that he hadn't actually 'read in a book'. We also knew that Dad was different than other dads because his back was sore and he couldn't go to work. We worried that his feelings would get hurt at church when they talked about husbands supporting the family. We worried that he would get too sore to have any fun at Disneyland. Now I worry that my Dad is back in Vietnam and he doesn't understand that we aren't there with him.

He goes to counseling and support groups. He wears Vietnam hats and pins. He talks about guns and helicopters and drill sergeants, and this is supposed to make the pain go away. How can it when it is always on your mind? When you live in the past, letting it go will kill you. It really started to bring me down, and I was only exposed for a couple of days.

It's really hard feeling like I don't know my Dad anymore. Looking back, it seems like my relationship with him has always been focused on his pain whether mental or physical. I definitely have a better understanding of why my parents' marriage didn't work. The blame seems more equally distributed now. You can't make someone happy.

But you can give them happy moments. Like a Neil Diamond concert. Neil was awesome. He has the same voice, clothes, and hair that he had in the 60's. The hair is a little more gray, but no matter. He sang for 2 1/2 hours with no intermission. I did too. The best part was when Dad sang along. By the end he was woohoo-ing at the top of his lungs. I don't think Vietnam was there. And if his back and hip were hurting, it didn't stop him from a standing ovation. I was actually at the concert with my Dad. The guy who introduced me to music.

That was really good.