Sharing Seashells - Part 2 Photos

 

Our Sea Shell Cove

 

 

 

The Best Spot for Shells

Sharing Seashells - Part 2

The last photo displays the variety of seashells I was able to gather during my stay with "M" in her Gulf Coast home this past winter.  I spent seven wonderful weeks with her in this serene setting, and made a mission out of collecting as many "Common Suncoast Sea Shells" (as listed in the photo on page 8 of The Florida Info Guide) as I possibly could. 

 

When I returned to New York State, I was only able to bring a select few back with me (that is, as many as I could carry on the plane without breaking my back!).  Two each of the smaller treasures, such as the Lettered Olives (aka "Oliva Sayana"), and one of the larger gems, like the Giant Atlantic Cockle (aka "Donocardium Robustum").  I arranged them lovingly in a white shadow box, as shown in the photo.  Although not nearly as impressive as "M"s hand-made shell table, it serves its purpose.  When I look at them, I remember the many magical moments I shared with "M" during that time.

 

The rest of my "loot" (and there was a LOT!!!) I left behind so that "M" would be able to look at them every day, just as she had done with her own collection back home.  The only thing missing was the hand-made table, but I was able to successfully improvise in that area.  It turns out that plastic fruit and baked goods containers from the grocery store can make quite a nice display case for sea shells!  Cheap and lightweight, yet still good for viewing!  And as reported by "M"s new Florida caregivers, she enjoys looking at the shells quite often, which is all I could have hoped for.

 

Thinking back to my time with "M" in Florida, I realize that it wasn't the shells that made such a lasting impression on me.  Rather, it was the process of sharing my finds  with "M" that made gathering them such a joy. 

 

During the course of my stay, I would often take "M" down to the very end of a lovely neighborhood called Pass a Grille, right at the tip of St. Petersburg Beach.  There, she could sit on a bench and not only watch a wide variety of boats go in and out of the Gulf, but also enjoy the only area of the beach that allowed access to dogs.  "M" loves all animals, especially cats and dogs.  While I searched the rocky shoreline for that "one of a kind" find, "M" was able to relax and enjoy the antics and companionship of her new canine neighbors.  It was a win-win!

 

I always had "M" in my line of sight while shell seeking.  We would go to the beach near sunset, which is when the best shells would roll in.  Wrapped in a brightly colored blanket, complete with a sunhat and shades, "M" stood out from the casually clad locals who walked their furry friends in this coveted little cove.  Every time I looked back to see if she was okay, I could see her beautiful white hair gently blowing under her sunhat.  So regal and distinguished looking.  Definitely a Snowy Egret!

 

Every few minutes, I would run up from the shore with a handful of shells and place them on a concrete wall that blocked the sidewalk and bench from the beach area.  Eagerly, I would lay them out and line them up so that "M" could see what I'd found.  She was delighted, and would point to the ones that she considered "keepers."  Then, deferring to her ninety years of experience in this hobby, I would run back to the beach to return the others to their watery home. 

 

Being a novice to shell seeking, however,  I didn't realize that many of my finds contained living crustaceans.  As the little critters began to polk their pincers out of their conch enclosures, I ran even faster!  So that was why the locals trolled this particular spot!  Dinner!

 

Every now and then, another shell seeker, always more knowledgeable than me, would come over to "M"s bench and assess our collection.  He (or sometimes she) would look at my chintzy Florida Info Guide and chuckle.  "If you want to find THAT shell, you need to look over THERE!"  Then, a craggy wet  hand would point to an extremely rocky embankment bordering a not-so-sturdy-looking wooden fishing pier.  Hmmmmmmm.  It was worth a shot.  Heeding their advice, I decided to find out exactly what was over THERE!

 

From what I've been told, the best shells wash on the shore around dusk.  Thus, my trips to the beach at the cove with "M" would be planned for that time of day.  While the sun was setting gloriously on the other side of the Pass a Grille Peninsula, I was stumbling around slippery rocks that in their greyish brown hue, looked exactly like the surrounding water.  Water shoes?  Nahhhhhh!  I was all set for the occasion in flip-flops!  In hindsight, this was NOT a brilliant idea. 

 

One time, however, a unique and very distinctive looking shell landed right at the foot of my scraped up feet!  I snatched it up as quick as I could, suspecting that it was something very special.  Then I ran/limped back to "M"s bench to share my find!  Her eyes lit up, and I could tell that she, too, knew it was a very special shell.  I checked it for creeping crustaceans, and the coast was clear!  This one was definitely a keeper, and I wrapped it up in a plastic bag to keep it safe.

 

Back at "M"s home, our seashell finds were creating quite a sight in the large, multi-counter topped kitchen.  After each trip, "M" would sit in her usual chair at the corner of the table that divided the kitchen from the living area.  It was a tall swivel chair with arms, very well suited for a woman of "M"s stature.  Her feet could even touch the floor, although mine were always hung limply in the air due to my much shorter height. 

 

While preparing dinner, I would lay the shells out (washed, dried, and placed on paper towels, of course) across the counter tops so that "M" and I could peruse them during our meal.  She seemed to take great pleasure in looking at the collection, and as hoped, she would often recall stories from her past triggered by a particular shell. 

 

On my end, I took great pleasure in hearing her tales.  Many of them involved a year she had spent during her childhood at her grandparents' home on a "key" about an hour south of where we currently were.  It was back in the late 1920s or early 1930s, and the area was quite different than it is today.  No condos or timeshares.  No sun-worshipping tourists.  No "snowbirds" seeking refuge from the cold Northeast winters.  Just a few hearty folks who were brave enough to set up shop in what was a still an untamed, tropical paradise.  "M"s adventurous, nature-loving spirit surely was a gift from her grandparents!

 

One of her favorite stories was about a man that her grandfather knew.  She couldn't recall the man's name, or how her grandfather was acquainted with him.  And she couldn't remember exactly how old she was at the time.  What she did recall was that he had an airplane.  And it was that very plane that inspired her eighty year love-affair with flight! 

 

Oh... Have I not mentioned previously that "M" was a pilot?  And that she taught young naval recruits how to fly during World War II? 

 

Aha!  This is yet another fascinating piece of "M"s remarkable patchwork that I will have to share with you in more detailed depth at a later date...

 

Thank you for joining us on our journey so far!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Great Snowy Egret - "M"

A Beautiful Bird

Sharing Seashells - Photo

 

 

Seashell Shadowbox

Sharing Seashells - Part 1

One of the many amazing items that captivated me when I first visited "M"s home was a hand-made wooden coffee table with a clear, glass top.  While it was not nearly as ornate as some of the other accent pieces that adorned the residence ("M"s father had been in the antique furniture business), it distinguished itself by its simplistic style.  Rectangular in shape, the table was framed with four pieces of a black-colored wood.  The wood bordered the see-through glass top that could be removed as needed (preferably by two very careful people).  "M" boasted that her late husband had constructed the table as a special place to display items they collected together in their travels.

 

I wasn't sure just what to expect when I first looked through the glass top,  From the stories she had shared with me so far, I knew that "M" had visited many fascinating places in her lifetime, not only with her husband, but also before she was married.  From Europe to the West Coast, and from Northern New England to the Caribbean Sea, "M" had more than likely been there at some point.  I knew that whatever was on display in this glass table was bound to be extremely unique and special, just like "M" herself.

My instincts were correct.  The table frame surrounded a sunken center that was covered with a light layer of sand, and scattered throughout was an amazing array of seashells.  Located in front of an Eastern facing window, the shells magnificently caught the morning sunlight.  There were local cockles from Long Island Sound, where "M" and her husband had spent a great deal of time sailing their small boat.  Also included were an assortment of rocks that had washed upon the shore, each of them molded by the ocean into its own unique shape.  "M" also spent a lot of time along the Gulf Coast of Florida, where her grandparents had lived when she was a child.  As an adult, she and her family would often travel back to that area, sometimes going on sailing excursions around the Caribbean.  Many of the more exotic shells were found on tropical beaches there.

 

To me, they were all stunning, and "M" beamed as she pointed to each treasure in her collection.  Despite her dementia, "M"s recollection of the shell gathering was remarkable.  Each and every shell had a story, and "M" was more than happy to tell it to my very eager ears!  I was amazed, not only by the wide array of shells that I had never even heard of before, such as the "Juno's Volute" and "Apple Murex," but also by the sparkle in "M"s eyes as she remembered in loving detail all of the magical moments that had inspired the display.

 

After viewing her collection, I made a promise to myself that if I was ever lucky enough to visit some of the incredible places that "M" had been, I would create my own shell display.  My travels in life thus far had taken me to the Northern Pacific Coast, where I had accumulated quite a collection of Pacific Ocean sand dollars.  Unfortunately, many of them did not fare well in my move back to New York State, but they did make for lovely, and very crumbly, accents in my flower garden. 

 

It was definitely time to start a new display...

 

 

More About "M"... and Me

Many of my experiences as a traveling caregiver have taken place with the Great Snowy Egret who I lovingly refer to as "M". 

She has led a very active life in a variety of places. and I have been privileged to visit many of these with her.  This summer, I will be reuniting with "M" in "The Woods", her family's hundred year old property in upstate New York.   I had the privilege of spending much of last summer in this idyllic location with "M", and have some (hopefully) moving stories to share from this wonderful time.

My journey also includes work with other individuals who are equally memorable, although I have not spent as much time on the road with them as I have with "M". 

Nevertheless, I will try to do them all justice in this blog by weaving their stories into my caregiving quilt.  My goal is to create a patchwork of people who have touched my life in unforgettable ways... ways that I believe are worth sharing with others.

That is the ultimate goal of this blog, and I will try to do each and every special person justice through my words.

Thank you for reading!

Around the World Without Leaving Home

 

Sometimes my work as a caregiver takes me around the world without ever leaving home.

 

That's exactly what happened during the five years I served as a companion for "N".  When I first met her at the age of seventy-nine, "N" was a happy, friendly, and very tiny woman who was recovering from a stroke.  She lived in her daughter's home, which was well-adapted to "N"s mobility needs, and attended a program for seniors during the day.  She was well-cared for and much loved, and the time I spent with her was sheer delight.

 

You see, even though "N" and I never left her home, we traveled together around the world!  During her working years, "N" and her husband had won a cruise that took them to places all over the globe.  She loved to tell the story over and over again, and I never grew tired of hearing it.  "N" always spoke of it as one of the happiest times in her life.

 

"N" never knew my name.  She suffered from short-term memory loss as a result of the stroke, and couldn't remember things that happened yesterday, let alone a few minutes ago.  Sometimes, it was sad to see, especially when she couldn't recall the names of her immediate family members.  They tried to act like it didn't bother them, but I could see the hurt in their eyes when she would be unable to come up with the name of one of her beloved grandchildren.

 

Eventually, "N" came to recognize my face because of the amount of time we spent together.  Her family was very active socially, and "N" and I spent many weekends and holidays together.  I think she was my New Years Eve date for about four years running!  And a delightful date she was!  We would watch TV Land, and one of our favorite destinations was the Ponderosa!  Whenever "N" glimpsed the majestic Sierra Mountains that surround the Lake Tahoe region, she would instantly be reminded of her trip around the world. 

 

"I won a trip around the world, you know!" she would exclaim with glee.  "Where did you go?" I would ask her, always eager to here.

 

The tale never changed.  Italy was her favorite country, and "N" visited all of its major cities and tourist attractions.  I suspect that the Sierra Mountains bordering the Ponderosa in "Bonanza" reminded her of the Alps in Northern Italy, and her mind would always retreat to this very special place and time. 

 

"N" was accompanied on her travels by her husband, and she had no trouble remembering him!  Around the home, there were many beautiful pictures of her family, but the most striking was the wedding photo of "N" and her husband from the mid-1940's.  Mounted half way up the tri-level staircase, "N" and I would always stop to talk about it as she stair-glided up to the bathroom.  Her smile was radiant, both in the photograph and in the present day.  I've never seen a happier bride.

 

One evening, "N" and I were watching a movie about a wedding.  It was a light-hearted comedy, and the story was not too difficult to follow.  Thinking of "N"s joy when she viewed herself as a new bride, I decided to ask her about her own wedding.   Since the event had taken place a long time ago, I figured that "N" would be able to describe in detail every aspect of that special day.

 

I couldn't have been more wrong, and the effects of the stroke on "N"s cognitive abilities became painfully clear that evening.  Just before I asked about her wedding, a commercial for Long John Silver's Restaurant had come on the television.  "N"s response to my query was full of excitement, but not at all what I had anticipated.  With a sparkle in her eyes, she pointed to the TV set and exclaimed, "Long John Silver's!  That's where I got married!" 

 

The harsh reality of her memory loss sunk in that night, and it was an experience I'll never forget.  What I will also never forget is the look of sheer joy in "N"s eyes, not only when she saw the commercial, but every single time we passed her wedding photograph in the stairwell.  She knew who the bride and groom in the photograph were, and somewhere inside her damaged mind, a treasured memory remained fully intact, full of love and happiness. 

 

"I won a trip around the world, you know!"  I did know.  And I couldn't be more grateful for the travels that "N" and I shared together.  Without her, I never would have seen the Alps... or the Ponderosa!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Three Senior Sisters Share Thanksgiving

I'd been working with "M" for a year at her home when I was asked to accompany her to Florida to spend Thanksgiving with her two older sisters.  At the time, "M" was 89 and growing increasingly frail, so I knew there was some urgency to the visit, as the sisters were 96 and 97. 

Although I did not fly with "M" from New York to Florida (her son took on this role), I met up with her in the Tampa Airport.  I'd never met her son before, but "M", who was uncharacteristically in a wheelchair for mobility purposes, instantly recognized my face when she saw me.  She smiled brightly and extended her long arms.  "M" doesn't know my name.  At least not when we're together.  She has Dementia, and at times, despite our 40 year age difference, believes I am a friend from her school days.  I don't mind.  I figure that as long as we both recognize each other, we're good to go!

"M" and I were roommates for five days at a small motel on Treasure Island, a tranquil treasure on the gorgeous Gulf Coast.  Her family had stayed there for years, and the owners were thrilled to have "M" back.  I've traveled a great deal in the continental U.S., but never had the privilege of staying in such a spectacular setting.  Two blocks away was the aptly named Sunset Beach, and the views, which I took time to enjoy during my short break times, were breathtaking.

We spent a lot of time at our motel, which was adjacent to a quiet, coastal inlet.  "M" often could not walk very far, so we would watch other guests fish off the motel's private dock.  And with the fish, came the birds.  Dozens and dozens of them.  I was in awe, as was "M".  She loves anything that flies.  In fact, she herself used to fly, and professionally taught others how to. 

Our first day there, I noticed a Snowy Egret.  In flight, white wings spread spectacularly wide, it was one of the most regal looking birds I had ever seen.  I looked at "M", tall, and lean, her white hair blowing in the warm breeze, and told her that she reminded me of a Snowy Egret.  Long-limbed.  Distinguished.  A magnificent site in the air as well as on the ground!  I'm not sure she quite got the analogy, but trust me, it couldn't have been more fitting.

When a flock of wild parrots flew over our heads, we both looked up and giggled with the joy of... well... two school girls.  "M" had a great appreciation for the simple things in life, and it was a joy to share these pleasures with her.   I've never enjoyed, or respected, our planet's aviary inhabitants as much as I have with "M".

With "M" reminding me of a great Egret, I couldn't imagine what animal imagery her older sisters would instill in my mind, and eagerly anticipated our first visit, scheduled for the next day.  It was to be an early Thanksgiving celebration at "A"s Assisted Living Facility.

The senior sisters, "L" and "A", did not disappoint.  I instantly recognized them as siblings of "M" by their height and distinguished looking countenances.  "M" and I waited in the lobby of the Assisted Living Facility where "A" resided while the two were escorted in by their caregivers.

At age 97, "L" was the older of the two sisters by barely a year.  Dressed in a striking blue blazer and matching pants, she was definitely dressed to the nines!  I would find out later that this was her style.  Of all the sisters, "L" was the most glamorous, always making sure that her hair and makeup were properly done.  Topping off her holiday outfit was a beautiful brown wig.  If I had to choose a bird analogy for "L", it would be the Great Blue Heron!

"A" reminded me much more of "M" in her appearance, but not only because of the white hair.  Something about her seemed more nondescript, as if she didn't want attention drawn to herself.  She wore a simple patterned dress with a beige blazer over it, and her hair was as white as "M"s.  Now there were two snowy egrets in the room!

 

"A" and "L"  were delighted to see their "baby" sister, and everyone in the facility couldn't help but smile at the reunion of the three sisters.  As "M"s caregiver, I felt proud to be there.  And oddly protective.  Every time someone would approach our group, I would nudge closer and closer to "M", partly to ensure her safety, but also to ensure my comfort level.  It seems the three senior sisters were causing quite a stir among the other guests.

 

We all sat down at our table, adorned with Thanksgiving decorations, and each caregiver was seated next to their respective sister.  As we awaited dinner, we were entertained by an enthusiastic karaoke singer who was quite loud, as many of the facility residents were hearing impaired.  This included "A", who needed every word hollered into one ear.  Between the music and the yelling, I wasn't sure how the sisters could hear each other at all, but they seemed to be communicating in their own unique language via expressions, glances, and touches that had been fine-tuned over 90 plus years.

 

When dinner was served, an odd thing began to occur.  I had shared many a meal with "M" prior to this occasion, and never found her lacking in appetite.  But while "L" and "A" enjoyed their food quite heartily, "M"'s countenance grew more and more disheartened.  Despite ongoing prompts by her two big sisters to eat her meal, "M" just picked at her food.  And the more the sisters doted on her, the stronger was her refusal to eat.  I couldn't figure out what was wrong, and "M", who was generally quite open with me about her feelings, had clammed up. 

 

Finally, one of the other caregivers explained the dynamic to me.  "M" was not only the main guest, but as the youngest sister, she really was the baby today... even at the age of eighty-nine.  With all the focus on her, she reverted back to a pattern she had displayed with her sisters eighty years ago!  The more they prodded and pushed at her, the more she would resist.  I guess when you've been alive for nine decades, you've earned the right to not be treated like the baby sister anymore.

 

I noticed more differences between the sisters as the afternoon went on.  While "L" and "A" had both been somewhat of socialites in their youth, "M" had been the opposite.  Even her current attire, a long-sleeved polo shirt and jeans, reflected her simplicity.  At one point, a very old photo book from their debutante days was passed between the senior sisters.  It seemed to be an album of their "Coming Out" ball.  I glanced over at "M", who had a sour expression on her face.  I knew that look.  And I understood it.  This was not her world, and she felt like the outcast.  She had always marched to her own very unique drummer, which was something I greatly admired and had in common with her.  Sensing her discomfort, I escorted her out of the room.

 

Back in our motel room that night, I tried to get "M" to discuss the events of the day.  Although suffering from mild dementia, "M" was often quite clear in her comments, especially when it pertained to something from years gone by.  Sure enough, she stated that she did not like being referred to as "the baby."  And as far as socialites went, "M" bluntly stated that she "couldn't stand all those snobs."

 

We shared some great moments together that night.  "M" and I were very much alike.  The first thing "M" had ever asked me when I met her was, "Are there still snobs in the world?"  As I uttered  "yes" with a hint of disgust, I knew that "M" and I would get along just fine.  

 

I guess that even though you can be sisters for over ninety years, it doesn't necessarily mean the bond between you is that close.  That night, I looked over at "M" in the twin bed next to mine.  Despite our forty year age difference, I felt like I was bunking with a another kind of sister.  It was a wonderful feeling, one I hope I never forget.

 

 

A Night in the "Country"

As a long-time caregiver for the elderly and disabled, one of the most satisfying parts of my work has been to travel with the people I provide care for.  Sometimes, the adventures take place a thousand miles away, and other times, they happen right in my backyard... literally! 

Take my experience with "D" for example.  It was only recently that she and I shared some exciting moments with a skunk on my front porch.  "D" is mildly developmentally disabled, and we've known each other for years.  In fact, she is like a sister to me.  I invited her to sleep over my house two weeks ago so that we could take in a movie the next day at a local theater.  I live about an hour north of "D", and though not that far of a distance, it's enough to separate suburban from "country."

 

"D" had been at my house before, and was quite taken with my cats.  I have three boys, all extremely quirky.  "D" had not yet met my most elusive feline, a white, fluffy creature with a tiger-stripe patch running up his back.  Aptly named Fluffy, the poor thing has the great misfortune of looking like a skunk.  My cats are indoor/outdoor, so I always leave some food and water on the top step, directly outside my front door. 

 

At one point during the evening, I thought I saw Fluffy slinking up the front walkway.  Excited, I encouraged "D" to come and see.  Imagine our surprise when we opened the front door to find an actual skunk!   I was near panic mode, but "D" remained cool as a cucumber.  Turns out she grew up in a home near the woods that welcomed many wild animals.  Interesting as this was, I did not quite trust her skills as a "skunk whisperer" and slammed the door shut before we got sprayed.  Suffice it to say that even if we had been sprayed, "D" would have known how to handle it.  Just another day in the country for her.  It's amazing how much I have to learn from the people I serve. 

Oh!  The film we saw was "Epic," the ironically appropriate Pixar flick about the many magical creatures that lurk right in our own backyards! 

Next entry, I'll take you on one of my far away journies with an elderly gem named "M".