Oops, he did it again.

Papa Jiunta hit the ground, (not running), again. Into the hospital he flew and scurried back out to rehab, like a constant game of Red Rover, Red Rover, Send Patrick Over. And along with that scenario, unbelievably, he was also struck with a stroke, with the added bonus-with-purchase of a pneumonia.

Suffice it to say, this is my own Man of Steel.

My father is now 92 years old. Well, he likes me to say 92 AND A HALF. Because he knows, and I know, that this half means more life than anyone realizes. This half has a lotta stunts packed into it this year. This is glass half-full. Of Ensure. Never half empty. Of Canadian Club.

A hospital stay is rarely a festival of frivolity, but my poor father had a particularly rough time. I will tell you this, though, we can all learn some crucial life lessons from this man.

1. When the going gets tough, the tough grit their teeth, continue to breathe and repeat: “Not today. NOT TODAY.”

2. We may dream about our loved ones who have gone onto another dimension, but that doesn’t mean we want to join them anytime soon. And they must know this. Because they left him alone and went on their gossamer-winged, otherworldly way.

3. The hospital is filled with whiners and criers and complainers. Don’t be one of them. Express your strength in a million different ways, through a dozen different procedures and veins that won’t unroll. Show those snowflakes how it’s done. You are no delicate flower. You are a Jiunta.

4. When you are moved to your umpteenth room, and you barely know your name, and when the cute nurse asks if you know where you are, say: “I must be in heaven ‘cause you’re my angel.” Never let them take away your swagger.

5. When you wake up from a day-long power nap and look at your daughter, don’t call her “David,” because stroke or no stroke, she will pinch you hard.

6. When they insist on feeding you a pureed diet that looks like the Fisher-Price food that comes with the Fisher-Price Kitchen, you pretend to eat it and then inhale the entire box of Smidgens someone hid in your night stand. No one gets to tell this 92-and-a-half-year-old he can’t have his chocolate, his peanut butter and his sassiness. Take your pureed salmon and shove it, yo.

7. Live your life. Live it.

And he has. Others his age, and those who have gone through similar shenanigans may have given up. Not this fool. He has big plans when he escapes from rehab. He has begun ukulele lessons and he intends to finish. He played the trumpet in an orchestra a million years ago, and he intends to begin again. He has recently moved to a new suite within the Village, made boatloads of new friends and he intends to continue to nurture those AARP cliques. He intends to complete a painting he began, pre-stroke. He has a memoir to write, photos to take, bread to bake and life to live … a big, fluffy, charismatic life to live, with a shaker of Manhattans.

“The secret of genius is to carry the spirit of the child into old age, which means never losing your enthusiasm.”

My father is this genius.

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Life Deconstructed

Maria Jiunta Heck

Maria Jiunta Heck, of West Pittston, is a mother of three and a business owner who lives to dissect the minutiae of life. Send Maria an email at mariajh40@msn.com.