I can get used to Dad not taking care of himself and going the way of his father (1 heart attack, bypass surgery, and colon cancer).

What's scary to me about my dad is that he has always more or less taken care of himself -- never overweight, quit smoking at 30, pretty physically active, drinks in moderation. But his father died of a stroke at 53, as did several other relatives. And my dad had his first heart attack and got an automatic defibrilator at 42.

Dad is almost 55 now, so I'm hoping he broke the family curse.

Wow, I killed the thread dead. Sorry.

she speaks from experience and knows the ways of the stubborn greasy spoon fancier.

Your food snobbery is showing. And the best cheeseburger places don't even provide spoons.

My husband's grandfather, after his massive heart attack, went to live with one of his sons, who proceeded to take away his cigarettes, booze, and porn. The man was in his 70s. Son policed him rigorously for months. Grandpa called another son and said, "Get me out of here." Son #2 pulled up, Grandpa got in, Son #2 drove him to the place he'd lived for 50 years, looked the other way when Grandpa got out the whiskey and the Camels, said, "You sure about this?" Grandpa said, "Go home, boy." A few weeks later, Grandpa was dead and the rest of the family was calling Son #2 a murderer. Hubby said, "Grandpa died like he lived and made his choice. What right do any of us have to tell a grown man who knows the risks 'No'?"

Nobody gets out of here alive. Wheat germ doesn't change that.

I'm not going to ask dad to eat wheat germ, but while I am the main cook in the house I'm going to make some changes.

I checked out The Dreaded Brocolli, a funny cookbook written by a woman (and her daughter) after her husband had a heart attack and they changed their diet. Both women love to cook and love food, but have a really relaxed attitude. I made Barley Mushroom Ragout recipe that was very tasty and made way more than I thought.

My dad made broccoli slaw the last time we saw him. It was surprisingly tasty. Not in that "Okay, I can barely tolerate eating this" way, but in the "Hey, coleslaw only crunchier!"

My mother's dad started working in coal mines when he was 12. He smoked non filter cigarettes most of his life. He made his own moonshine. He drank heavily up until he died (including a case of alcohol poisoning at age 80 and an incident where they had to call the police and evacuate his trailer park because he got drunk and started shooting at "rats"). The man ate bacon every morning and loved sausage gravy and biscuits with fried eggs and fried apples.

He lived to be 88 with no cancer, no long hospitalizations and he died with a full head of hair. Go figure.

The Dreaded Brocolli title comes from the fact that when ever the couple went out to eat anywhere (and they were in NY -- this was in the late 80s) the vegetable choice was almost always broccoli.

Yip. You can pretty much bet on it. Or the ever-popular steamed broccoli-cauliflower-carrot melange.

Question: I'm supposed to staple my W-2 forms to my Form 1040A to my Form 8880, right? Not just use a paperclip?

Gotta say, connie, I'm inclined to side with Son #2.

My maternal grandfather smoked a pack a day until he was nearly 80. After grandma died (of lung cancer--she was also a pack a day smoker) he was a widower in a Seniors-only apartment complex. Every other day one of his admiring female neighbors would leave him a plate of cookies or a pie. (The man lurved his pie.) When my aunt asked Grandpa's doctor to read the riot act to him, the doctor said something along the lines of, "The man has bone cancer, prostate cancer, semi-blocked arteries, and God knows what else. Let him have his pie."

Grandpa died at ~83. His last words were, hand to God, "My arm hurts. It's 'cause all the pretty nurses won't stop laying on it." Yeah, it might have been nice for him to see 84, but he was a grownup (and a cut-up) and he wanted his pie.