Moral of the Story: Don't go barefoot.

My dad had a lifetime supply of canned pineapple at his house.

I was talking about cereals with a friend today, and I remembered that we ate granola at my dad's house for breakfast almost every time we visited. When he cooked Ramen for lunch, he taught us to appreciate not only the finer points of the thrifty cuisine, but how fascinating it was when the crispy block of noodles metamorphosed into the curly mess. We baked the pepperoni pizzas we got at Aldi's and watched through the oven window as the edges of the pepperonis curled up and made a little bowl with residual grease in the center. In one of our monthly Charlie Brown Encyclopedias, we read about different kinds of holidays, so one winter we "celebrated" both Christmas and Passover. He made sure I got my Little Mermaid cake that I desperately wanted for my seventh birthday. And at every meal on the side was pineapple, my favorite fruit, in rings or bits or puree.

He lived with my grandmother, trying to get back on his feet after the divorce two years ago had financially and emotionally massacred him. My brother and I were allowed to see him every other weekend and he could share us on holidays. The drop-off/pick up point was the parking lot of a Lion's Choice halfway between the apartments.

My dad grew morning glories in the backyard area of my grandmother's townhouse. She grew strawberries and tomatoes, covering them in netting so the rabbits wouldn't get to them. Once while digging she unearthed a little brown porcelain bunny figurine, which she gave to me. Rabbits were my favorite animal.

I kept my favorite pair of shoes there: a psychedelic pair of Nickelodeon Keds. We had piles of books donated from relatives and a stack of newspaper comic strips to read. My dad bought workbooks from the education store and made us practice our handwriting, spelling, and math skills. He took us on nature walks around the complex. One winter, the temperatures dropped suddenly and the water in the fountain froze solid in midspurt. One spring, he crushed a cheerio on the sidewalk when we began a walk so when we returned there would be ants for us to look at. On clear nights, we would go out with our telescopes and pick out stars and constellations. When I lost a tooth, my grandmother made a star-shaped pillow with a pocket for me to put it in so it wouldn't get lost before the Tooth Fairy could get to it. But the crowning glory was that he had one of those slip and slide things--where you run, bellyflop onto the wet plastic landing strip, and slide through the crocodile's mouth. I forgot what it was called.

After awhile, visitation rights shifted and we weren't allowed to see him anymore, just visit my grandmother. My brother and I mostly stuck to ourselves, reading the comics and picking fights and skipping our Skip-It outside. One summer day we set up the crocodile slide and went a few rounds before I got a splinter in my foot. My grandmother tried to get it out but I wouldn't let her get close enough. She took us back to our mom's, since it would violate the restraining order if my dad had any contact with us.

My mom was laying out at the pool when we reached her. She took us back to the house and prodded the splinter out after lots of tears, protests, and hydrogen peroxide. We weren't able to go back to my grandmother's house that day. There were only a few times after that incident that we were still allowed to visit her at all. My mom got them deemed unsuitable to care for us and received full custody.

Needless to say, I consumed significantly less pineapple from that day forth.

My grandmother is well into her eighties and in a nursing home. She's slowly losing her marbles one by one, but it's a riot to hear her interact with my dad when he makes his obligatory visits and I'm with them. She grinds on his nerves so much. I've been seeing him secretly since I was fourteen; my brother visiting him for about three years before that. My mom found out about my brother, and though I know she suspects, hasn't been able to prove anything with me. I've lied to keep up the ruse. It would break her heart.