Here's a sample of the conversation I had with my dad tonight.
Dad: Got much snow?
Me: Yeah, over a foot.
Dad: It was really nice here in Boise today.
Me: Yeah, I know. We were down there for doctors' appointments and it was a big improvement on Cascade.
Dad (long pause): You know how I can tell you hate me?
Me: Huh?
Dad: Do you know how I can tell you hate me?
Me: I do?
Dad: Because you come down here and you don't stop and see me.
Me: We don't always have time to come and see you.
Dad: Because you hate me.
He's turning into his own mother. My grandmother died when I was 13, and I can remember very clearly in the years leading up to her death that my father hated going to see her because she was the Absolute All-Time Mistress of the Guilt Trip. All us kids got to see how well that worked on him, and he's passed his own reaction to that along to us. Aren't genetics and behavioral conditioning wonderful things?