A Day in the Life Brings a Ray of Light

Rarely am I at a loss for words, at least not written ones anyway.  I may sometimes (often) stumble in spoken conversations, but thus far, I have not found myself searching for something to say via my blog.  Those of you who have the interest, compassion, and patience to have traveled this far with me will certainly know what I mean!  (Long-winded?  Me??  Never!!!)

 

But for some reason, I now find myself with a case of Blogger's Block.  And being a newcomer to the wonderful world of blogging, I'm not even sure if such a condition exists!  I strongly suspect that it does, however.  It must!

 

So, in an attempt to pump some life into my blogging breath, let me simply describe a recent weekend shift with my delightful new friend "V". 
 

First let me say that I am privileged to be part of "V"s "Caregiving Team", which consists of four devoted and dedicated members.  "R" works the weekday shift, and takes "V" to medical appointments, the library, grocery shopping, recreational drives, and other outings as needed or desired.  The first on board the team, "R"s communication is the key to the team's success.  "R2" works the evening/overnight shift from Sunday through Thursday.  She keeps "V" safe and sound every single weeknight.  On Sunday mornings, "M" relieves me and brightens up the rest of the day until "R2" arrives and the weekly rotation starts all over again .

And last but not least, there is me, the new Weekender.  From 5pm on Friday evening through 9am on Sunday morning, I am "V"s grateful companion, a role that I have come to treasure in only four short months.

Here's a look into how our wonderful time together typically unfolds...

After driving over the river and through the woods (amazingly navigating the fall get-away traffic that  dominates the beautiful late Autumn landscape), I arrive at "V"s home at 5pm.  On the dot!  For about ten to fifteen minutes, I touch base with "R" about the events of the week.  She has a great relationship with "V", and our interchanges are generally filled with lots of laughter. 

 

After she departs, I spend some one-on-one time catching up with "V".  It's amazing how she always asks me how my week was before I'm able to inquire about hers!  Beats me to the punch every time!  For someone who is five years shy of a century, "V" is one sharp cookie!

 

Around 6pm, "V" likes to watch the evening news, but "not the sports part," so I try to time my meal preparation so that it is served near the end of the broadcast, when the overly-enthusiastic announcer is summing up the day's sporting events. 

 

"V" loves to eat!  And she especially likes salad.  I must confess that I am a horrible vegetable eater, so while "V"s salad is chock full of healthy tomatoes, cucumbers, and olives, mine consists mainly of lonely lettuce.  To spice mine up a bit, however, I always bring a small box of raisins, a sweet companion for the lonely lettuce.  But... although "V" enjoys eating almost every type of food, she does not like raisins.  (And scallops.  Definitely NO scallops!).  We always enjoy a good chuckle about my raisin fetish.  I suppose if I want to live as long as "V", I must develop a better relationship with vegetables.  It's odd.  I absolutely love chopping up the little red, green and black pieces for "V"s salad, and beautifully arrange them in her bowl of mixed greens, but I absolutely abhor the thought of them in my lonely lettuce!  Raisins.  Just Raisins!

 

Anyway... Our dinner together is always an enjoyable experience, regardless of whether or not we like the same produce!  Casual conversation, filled with more detailed catching up about the week that has passed, as we gently ease our way into the weekend. 

 

Like millions of other Americans and viewers around the globe, "V" is hooked on "Jeopardy."  With that in mind, I make sure that she is back in the living room, settled in her comfortable chair, by 7pm sharp!  Since she wears hearing aids, the volume on the TV is usually quite loud, which allows me to be stumped by the questions that I have no idea how to answer in spite of seventeen years of schooling while I clean up the dinner dishes.  Luckily, the next show is "Wheel of Fortune," which is a much easier, kinder, gentler game.  By this point in the evening, I am able to join "V" in the living room.  Once there, I settle down on the side of the couch closest to her, feeling at least some semblance of intelligence as I solve the seemingly silly, yet sometimes quite challenging, word puzzles.  The show may be seventy years shy of a century, but for the past thirty years, it has successfully managed to captivate audiences worldwide... including a very content "V"!

 

After "Wheel of Fortune," it's channel surfing time.  "V" enjoys watching old movies, as do I, but being the month of October, the station we usually watch is undergoing a Friday night "spook-fest."  That limits our choices somewhat, but "V" perseveres with the remote control until she finds something suitable.  Two weeks ago we were able to tolerate an early 1960's British film entitled "Burn Witch, Burn!" which, I'm pleased to say, was quite interesting and well-acted.  More importantly, it did not involve the actual burning of any witches!

 

If we can't find a film, we watch "Everybody Loves Raymond" on TV Land.  Nothing like a good belly laugh before bedtime!  And since both of us are from Italian families with relatives that have resided in or around the greater New York City area, we are both able to relate to the Big Apple craziness of the characters on the show.  Maybe a little too much so...  Now that is truly scary!

 

There is a set routine at bed-time, and "V" follows it diligently.  With the lights out, she allows me to gently assist her in getting undressed and putting her nightgown on.  She softly asks for "a little help" getting one leg into her bed, although I've observed her getting stronger over the past few months to the point where she can lift the leg on her own without really needing "a little help."  It's the routine that is important, however, and we stick tightly to it.  After "V" is safely in bed, I quietly (except for when I bang into the wall because the lights are out), put her commode in place for use during the night.  Lastly, I place her large-print book and reading glasses on her bedside nightstand, along with a glass of water, and we bid each other a peaceful night's sleep.  When I depart, "V" turns her touch lamp on and reads for a while.

 

That's our Friday evening.  Simple and relaxing, enjoyably spent together.  Quiet (when we are not laughing at the antics of Raymond's family), comfortable companionship, which is something I never want to take for granted.

 

"V"s bedroom has a baby monitor in it.  There is also one in "R2"s bedroom and one in mine.  This way, we can be there if "V" needs anything at all during the night.  Just in case.  "V" generally sleeps very well, and I can hear her put the book down when she begins dozing off.  That's when I start falling asleep, comforted by the lullaby of "V"s ever-so-slight snoring.  It is a sound that is soothing beyond words.

 

Saturdays with "V" are pretty much spent in a similar way as Friday evenings.  Casual meals accompanied by enjoyable conversation.  Addictive games on "V"s I-Pad and my new and improved Samsung cell phone.  (Farewell to my old friend Droid!)  "V" fully admits that she is a Solitaire junkie, and sometimes will play the game for hours on end.  Thankfully, she knows when to quit, and because of that, I assure her that she must not be an addict after all. 

"V" is a voracious reader, and much of her day is spent engaged in this extremely enjoyable activity.  She goes through large print books as quickly as the local library can supply them to her.  I find myself both mesmerized and envious of this.  It is incredibly difficult for me to become immersed in a book without falling asleep, and this is a source of great frustration for me.   As an English Literature Major in college, I was able to read scores of books... and stay wide awake at the same time.  Maybe I've just been taking a thirty year reading break?  Of course, now that I've discovered the wonderful world of large-prints, plus admitted with great reluctance that my eyesight really is diminishing with age and that I should be wearing reading glasses as an aid, perhaps I'll be able to finish a book again.

 

Occasionally throughout the day, "V" will take a stroll around her house.  She relies on a walker to ambulate, and this seems to be a source of great frustration for her, just as the books are for me.  "V" often tells me, her voice full of pride, that she was able to walk "on her own" up until her fall a year ago.   I always try to encourage her by explaining that the walker is not intended to limit her ability to get around, but is actually an aid to help her get around better.   On her own.  In the same way that the glasses can aid me while reading.  She nods and agrees, but I'm not entirely sure that she buys my reasoning one tiny bit.  "V"s ability to be completely independent is a very sensitive subject for her, and in turn, I must try to be sensitive to her feelings.  I don't push the issue.  No one likes a nudge!

Napping is rare for "V" during the day, and it's amazing to me that she is able to stay awake for the whole day at her age, especially since it is sometimes hard for me to stay awake, and I'm only half her age (give or take a few years)!  It's just so peaceful and quiet and relaxing in "V"s living room that Mr. Sandman can't resist trying to seduce me.  I'm able to battle him off, however, by engaging in some house-cleaning.  Nothing like a good romp with the vacuum to keep the juices flowing.   It's funny to watch "V" lift her legs just a tiny bit higher when I roll the Oreck under her reclining chair, as though she doesn't realize that her legs are already elevated.  And it is fabulous to see that she continues to happily read or play Solitaire in spite of my noise-making.

Dinner time is very much the same on Saturday as it is on Friday, except that the news is always delayed due to some kind of sporting event, which prevents "Jeopardy" from being on, which leaves us only with Pat and Vanna, which thereby allowing us to feel much more intelligent than the night before!  As I'm lovingly chopping up the tiny red, green and black pieces to beautifully arrange in "V"s salad bowl, I make sure to adjust my meal preparation time so that it coincides with the juggling television schedule.  Cannot miss Wheel!!!

Truth be told, our conversations at dinner on Saturdays are much more in depth than they are on Friday.  After twenty-four hours together, "V" and I are completely done "catching up" from the week before, and have settled into a cozy, comfortable rhythm.  We are beginning to develop a level of intimacy that allows us to chat more openly with each other, and I am thrilled that I am getting to know who "V" is as a person, and learn what her long life has been like. 

We laugh a lot as we share our individual stories, and I find that to be the most amazing thing of all about "V".  Her purely positive and uplifting attitude!  Every Saturday, "V" unfailingly hears some sad news about an old friend who is ailing or who is no longer able to stay in their own home.  And every weekend, she reaches out by telephone to connect with at least one of them, usually more, as she continues to be the consistent link in communication between a group of four close-knit friends girlfriends who are all a bit younger than "V".  I imagine that she was most definitely a leader among the ladies in their heyday!

This past Saturday, I watched in awe as "V" contacted one of these women, after learning that she had recently been relocated to a nursing home.  The old friend has no actively involved family members, and had been feeling very much alone.  She was so thrilled to hear "V"s voice that she exclaimed, "You are an Angel that God sent to me!"  I couldn't have chosen a more apt description for "V", who has the angelic ability to brighten up the lives of others.  A very real ray of sunshine on an otherwise dark day for her friend.

After the usual bedtime routine last Saturday evening (during which I successfully managed to not bang into the wall because the lights were out), I reflected on that phone call.  Maybe, I wondered, "V"s seemingly innate ability to bring cheer to other people is what keeps her so youthful and spirited.  If only everyone could be so generous, unselfish and kind... What a wonderful world it would be!  Feeling that my cup was more than full on this particular day, I once again fell asleep to the soothing lullaby of "V"s ever-so-slight snoring. 

The next morning, I awoke earlier than usual.  "V" generally wakes up between 7:30 and 7:45 am, so I always make sure that I am up and dressed and have the coffee brewing before then.  She likes to smell the aroma as she slowly wakes.  As I was carefully measuring the exact dosage of caffeine that "V" and I would consume together, I was struck by a sight I don't often appreciate (probably because I'm not one of those "morning people.").

On the horizon, behind "V"s football field backyard and quickly fading field of beans, the sky was just beginning to come alive with color.  It was a beautiful thing to see (especially for a former second shifter), and I of course rushed outside to take a picture of it with my trusty new Samsung camera phone. (It was a sad day indeed when I finally decided to ditch the Droid after two and a half fine years together!  Ahhhhh.... The memories.... ). 

As I watched the sun peak its head over the horizon, illuminating the brilliant late Autumn landscape, I snapped my picture.  Again.  And again.  You can never have enough photos of a glorious sight!  It was bright and beautiful, filling me with a deep sense of joy and hope. 

It was, in fact, just like "V". 

I sure hope this breaks the Blogger's Block!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Trying Something New

I've always heard it said that the one constant in life is change, and I highly suspect that I am not the only person on the planet who has found, sometimes quite painfully, that concept to be all too true.

 

Change is all around us.  And ironically, it really is constant!

 

In my lifetime alone, which has only been half a century in length, I have witnessed more changes than I ever dreamed possible.  Often they have been of a technological or mechanical nature, as modes of transportation, communication devices, and accessories to assist with and enhance every day living have transformed dramatically since 1963. 

Other times, the changes have been on a national level, with profound ramifications felt around the globe.  It is difficult to imagine that fifty years ago this month, President John F. Kennedy was assassinated in cold blood, an event which, along with the harrowing images of its heartbreaking aftermath, was broadcast by television around the world, enabling all nations to share in the disbelief, horror, and grief.

 

Most times, however, changes occur at a much more deeper, more personal level, often impacting a person in a life-altering way.   These are the changes you don't hear about on the most updated, state-of-the-art, must-have at any cost (thanks to credit programs for people who don't have the actual money to make the purchase!) flat screen television sets that can "interact" with all of the other new and improved must-have devices. 

 

Occasionally (have I mentioned that my microwave is one of my best friends ever?), the changes can be for the better!

 

But better or not, I absolutely refuse to acknowledge that a Blue Ray Disc is better than a DVD which was better than a VHS tape.  Or that a CD is better than a Cassette Tape which was better than an eight track (I confess that I have to side with progress in that particular situation!).  The reality may be one hundred percent true, but that doesn't mean that I have to acknowledge it!  I have hundreds of VHS tapes, just as I have hundreds of record albums (my son finds them absolutely astonishing... and archaic!), and I will not, no matter how cumbersome they are to lug around every time I move someplace new (now there's a topic about change that would take me decades to write about!), trade them in for something that is allegedly better!

 

I can't even fathom all of the changes that "V" has enjoyed, or perhaps endured, over the span of ninety five years!  That's a heck of a long time to be alive!  And a heck of a lot of changes to have witnessed!

Yet the changes keep rolling along...  Sometimes, they are widespread and dramatic, affecting millions of people around the globe.  Other times, they are as simple as trying out a new snack...

That's exactly the position "V" and I were in recently, and from where we stood, it was an extremely dramatic, life-altering experience!

It all started on my way to my weekend shift with "V", when I stopped at the local mini-mart to pick up a quart of milk for our cereal.  During the week, "V" eats an egg, over hard, prepared exactly the same way every morning by her weekday caregiver.  Because that's how "V" likes it.

On the weekends, however, "V" and I enjoy a breakfast consisting of cereal with milk, hers plain and mine chock full of raisins, not surprisingly.  Along with that, we have a slice of buttered toast, usually followed by a piece of fruit.  And there is always the accompanying glass of Orange Juice and the much-needed cup of coffee!  No changes there!

While at the mini-mart buying our quart of milk one recent Friday, I was struck by the sight of something I'd never seen before.  Sure.  The ever-enticing Entenmann's display of tasty treats was exactly where it always was, directly in front of the path to the check out counter!  Usually, I'm able to successfully dodge the darned thing, not giving into my craving for a variety of cakes and cookies displayed in a suspiciously captivating fashion, but this week... Well... The little yellow sticker that said "NEW" jumped out at me and I just couldn't resist. 

Thus, I headed straight to "V"s house with a brand new box of five Entenmann's Eclairs proudly in my possession!

 

It turns out that "V" also had a penchant for trying something new that week.  When I walked into her kitchen, the main entry way that is used to access her home, I was greeted not only by the weekday caregiver, eager to begin her weekend, but also by a box of Little Debbie Nutty Bars, which was a complete departure for "V"s otherwise healthy kitchen counter.

"What happened at the grocery store?" I asked, amazed at the sugary display.

The caregiver, an extremely health-conscious eater, explained that "V" couldn't resist the treats as they passed by the display.  Boy!  Did I know that feeling!

"She's never had them before, even though we walk by them every week." the caregiver explained, "But this week, she felt like trying them."

I told her that I had just encountered an eerily similar experience at the mini-mart, and proudly showed her my box of five Entenmann's Eclairs. 

"You two are going to have quite a sugar blast this weekend!" the caregiver exclaimed.  I promised her, however, that we would not over-indulge our sweet-teeth!

Floating on my anticipated Éclair high, I brought the box into the living room to show "V", expecting that she, too, would share my enthusiasm.

"Look what I got us for a treat this weekend!" I burst out rather too enthusiastically.

I was shocked as "V"s smiling face turned into a sort of grimace when she saw the box.  Slowly, cautiously, she queried, "What are those?"  After I explained that they were something new, as described by the bright yellow sticker that I was eagerly pointing to, "V"s chilly response was, "Well, I've never seen them before."

Hmmmmm... The Little Debbie Nutty Bars were new, too.  At least they were to "V"s kitchen!  But they weren't a new product.  They'd been out for years.  In fact, this is the 50 year anniversary of the snack product, as proudly displayed on the all sides of every type of snack they produce.  Apparently, Little Debbie is as old as me!  It turns out that "V" had passed them on display many times over the years.  She just never had the desire to try them before.  But for some strange reason, during this particular week, the Nutty Bars called to her, just like the Eclairs spoke to me.

It dawned on me that new things, especially if purchased by someone else, had to be introduced in a much more delicate manner, and I decided to tuck my Entenmann's Eclairs away in the refrigerator until a later point in our weekend, out of sight, out of mind...  at least out of "V"s mind, anyway.  My mind was still telling me to try just a little taste of one of the delicious-looking delicacies!  But I couldn't.  And wouldn't.  I had to wait for "V" to share one with me.

And so our weekend together began in its usual manner, with me preparing dinner while "V" watched the news, except for the "sports part," of course. 

After eating our meal, "V" almost always likes to have some dessert while still seated at the dining room table.  Before the frustration and fun, respectively, of "Jeopardy" and "Wheel of Fortune."  Thus far in our relationship, this tended to consist of a small bowl of blueberries, or perhaps another fruit if those were not available.  

But, as I'm certain you are already suspecting, this night turned out to be quite different!  Sure enough, without warning, "V" expressed a desire to try the Little Debbie Nutty Bars instead of the usual healthy fare. 

Wow!  I was stunned!  What had brought this on?  It was a huge change in our routine, even though it may seem small to someone else.

"What made you buy these?" I asked "V" as I brought her a package of the delectable looking treat.

"I just figured I'd try something new," was her response. 

My window of opportunity had just flung open widely.  Something new.  Here it was.  The chance to boldly bring up my Entenmann's Eclairs again, along with the reminder that they were always there, just in case, if she wanted to try one.  (Who am I kidding?  I was the sugar-crazed lunatic who wanted to try one, and in the worst way!)

"V" seemed to ignore my statement, and proceeded straight to her Nutty Bars.

"They are very big," she stated.  And she was quite right.  There are two Nutty Bars in a single package, and individually, they seem to be so much larger than some Little Debbie's other treats.

"Maybe next time," she quietly stated, "We'll have just one nutty bar each." 

I was stumped.  Next time?  Why not try my Entenmann's Eclairs next time, I wondered?  But I held my tongue and ate my Nutty Bars.  Crunchy and a tad bit dry, I thought to myself, but deliciously peanut-buttery at the same time.

The next afternoon at lunchtime, after finishing our otherwise healthy meal, we tried "V"s suggestion from the night before, and I split the package of Little Debbie Nutty Bars, leaving each of us with only one, yet still very large looking, snack bar. 

I couldn't help myself.  I just had to mention my delightful snack that, thus far, sat sadly in the fridge unopened.  "V" didn't respond to the Entenmann's Éclair reference, and so I again (albeit begrudgingly) dropped the subject.  "Maybe," I reasoned, "I could suggest it again later in the afternoon as a snack?"  "V" always ate a snack in the late afternoon on Saturdays, so it was a sure thing that another opportunity would arise to try out my new find.

As expected, late afternoon came, and "V" asked for a bowl of coffee ice cream.  Now here was the perfect opportunity, or so I thought, and I eagerly pounced on it.  "You know..." I tentatively began, "The ice cream would go great with one of those Entenmann's Eclairs that I brought..."  Hope hung heavy in the air.

"No," "V" answered all too quickly.  "The ice cream is just fine."

My dream was dashed again!  I couldn't understand it.  What was wrong with trying my new snack?  We had tried her new snack twice already, and, if my perceptions were accurate, "V" didn't even appear to enjoy them that much!  The situation was a complete mystery to me!

I suppose I don't even need to tell you what we had after dinner that night, because I'm sure you already guessed it.  But just because I feel the irresistible need to state it out loud, here goes... It was yet another Little Debbie Nutty Bar!!!  There!  That was healing!

I went to bed very full, but equally frustrated, that night.  I couldn't stop thinking about the new snacks.  Just because "V" had never seen the Entenmann's Éclairs before was no reason not to at least try one, I thought to myself.  Was it that hard to try something different?   Hadn't she gone through a phenomenal amount of new things in her lifetime?  Didn't she have room for just one more itty bitty new, and dare I say, delicious, thing? 

Or, I wondered, was it because I had discovered the new treat and not her?  Since "V" had not discovered the new snack "on her own," which is the way she preferred to do things, maybe it was difficult for her to try it at all?

Either way, I was putting far too much thought into the subject of snack cakes, and finally realized I should just go to sleep and stop worrying about it.  There were far greater things in the world to worry about, and if all I could muster was a nagging concern about which tasty treat to eat, then I had to concede that things were pretty good in my reality.  It could always be a lot worse, and I knew that first-hand, because there were many times when it really had been a lot worse...  Too many times, it sometimes seems.  There's another blog in and of itself, but I'm not sure I'm entirely ready to write that one just yet... 

Sunday was a brand new day, full of hope and promise.  The slate was completely clean, ready to be carved out one minute at a time.  You just never know what can happen at any given time...  And that morning at breakfast, this proved amazingly true.  Just after finishing our cereal, mine chock full of raisins of course, "V" made a surprising request.

"Let's skip the toast this morning," she told me, and I have to admit that I was a bit stunned by that alone!.  Skip the toast?  We always had a slice of buttered toast after our cereal, except during the weekdays, when the slice of buttered toast came after the egg over-hard.

Then, even more shockingly, "V" announced with a clearly discernible certainty in her voice, "We'll try your snack instead." 

Yay!!!  A much-needed reprieve from the deliciously peanut-buttery, although crunchy and a tad bit dry, Little Debbie Nutty Bars!  The mini Entenmann's Eclairs could finally be freed from their refrigerated prison where they were held hostage all weekend long!  It was a glorious day indeed!!!

I didn't want to appear to eager, but boy did I move like lightning into the kitchen to rescue those poor Entenmann's Eclairs from their refrigerated prison.  Carefully, lovingly, I laid them out perfectly on a plate.  They looked so beautiful.  I couldn't tell if the drop of water I wiped off my face was a bit of over-eager drool or perhaps a tear of joy.

Ever-so-proudly, I presented my prize to "V", and sat anxiously awaiting her response.

I have to admit, these were some terribly tense moments for me.  Getting "V" to try something new that she had not discovered on her own had thus far proven to be a gigantic challenge, far bigger than I ever anticipated.

It seemed like forever, but finally "V" uttered the words I longed to hear.  "Very good," she said, a satisfied smile clearly visible on her face.  At last!!!  Victory!!!  And coming from "V", who was understandably quite particular about what she did and did not like after ninety five years on the planet, this felt like an especially huge success on my part.  Not just because I had introduced her to a new snack, but because she actually agreed to try something she had not discovered herself

I left my shift with "V" feeling on top of the world, and within ten minutes, it seemed like I literally was, as I looked out over the glorious Catskill Mountains from a vista point in the road.  I found myself already looking forward to our next weekend together.  Because you just never know what might appear in "V"s kitchen...

I'll let the following photograph, which I took upon my arrival at "V"s home the next week, speak for itself:

And, truth be told, be it Little Debbie or Entenmann's or some other new product or brand that we have yet to encounter, they are all equally enjoyable to me... As is all of my time spent in "V"s company!







 

 

 

Through the Foothills - Photos

The Catskill Mountains Viewed Through Colorful Foliage

Viewed Through Greener Foliage

Over THAT Foothill to "V"s Home!

"Just in Case" the Weather Changes!

Little Blue Honda Fit in February 2013

Little Blue Fit in October 2013

Over the River and Through the Woods

As the end of October draws near, I am faced with a challenge that all people who choose to reside in the Northeastern corner of the United States annually encounter:  How do I prepare myself, and my car, for the possibility of an early snowstorm so that I can still get where I want, and need, to go.

 

In my case, I want to go spend time with "V"!  My new memories made with her thus far have been most enjoyable and equally inspiring, and I do not in any way wish to interrupt our connection.

 

"V" is an absolute delight!  I cannot believe how much I look forward to her company week after week, and, from what I can ascertain, it certainly seems to be a mutual feeling.  Although she is, in many ways different from my beloved "M", (they are two very distinct individuals with very unique personalities!) I am also discovering some wonderful similarities.  Of course, some of these may simply be because they were born and raised in the same era, a much difficult time, harder yet simpler in some ways.  Families muddled through life's hurdles together, and communication with friends and loved ones, especially those who loyally served our country during war-time, was done mainly through the written word.  As a result of this lifestyle, I think that both "V" and "M", along with many others of their generation, display a sense of patience, the ability to wait and trust as opposed to the tendency to hurry and doubt, that is rare in our society today.

And although I hate to admit  it, I am a prime example of the "must get it done NOW!" urgency that dominates today's whirlwind world!   At least I was the other day... 

The Fall season in the Northeast has been absolutely beautiful so far this year, full of brilliant colors and almost balmy temperatures.  Some have said that the leaves are "duller" than usual, but I beg to differ.  To me, they are stunning and spectacular, which is probably explains why I've loaded up my poor little handy-dandy Droid camera phone with even more precious photographs (I'm up to over 3,000!!!  Something's gotta give soon in cell phone cyberspace!). 

And it is exactly because of this beautiful, balmy weather that when the calendar turned to October 15th, I began to seriously worry about getting the snow tires back on my little blue Honda Fit, "just in case" an early snowstorm should surprise us.  So much for staying in the moment.  You see, In New York State, it is legal to drive with snow tires after that date, and despite the disturbingly loud noise that the tiny tires make on my dainty and delicate vehicle, I nevertheless felt an undeniable sense of urgency.  "Must get it done NOW!" thinking in its truest form!

 

Of course, I have my reasons, and in this particular instance, I feel they are pretty darned valid and will justify them to anyone who dares me to! 

If you recall my tale of two Autumns ago, you'll completely understand my rationale.  That is when I spent the weekend before Halloween huddled up with "M" in her daughter's cozy home after an early blizzard hammered Eastern New York and much of Connecticut.  It was an amazing site!  Most of the trees, some still fully clothed in their colorful autumn apparel, sadly sagging under the weight of an oppressively heavy white blanket.  I don't recall ever seeing anything quite like it.

 

Yet, during the exact same time period last year (which I have also described previously), I was able to bask in the glorious sunlight with "M" as we picnicked near her old yacht club, enjoying an unseasonably warm but undeniably welcome late Autumn excursion.

 

With those two scenarios in mind, you can clearly see why I have a pressing need to be totally prepared this year!  I have important places that I want, that I need, to go.  The most important of which, understandably, is to be able to drive, literally, over the river and through the woods to spend more valuable time with "V"!

 

So far, as mentioned, the October weather has been fabulous, and "V" and I have been able to spend some lovely moments sitting on her deck enjoying the beauty of the field of beans behind her backyard.  But last weekend during our visit, I couldn't help but notice that all the beans were brown and some of the trees were quite indecently half-dressed (or flauntingly half-naked, depending upon your point of view).   The temperature is still warm during the day, but the nights are growing increasingly brisk, which I directly discovered while I shivered through the frugality of the "V" & "M" generation that do not turn on their heat until it is absolutely necessary!  Actually, their generation has really rubbed off on me, because I do exactly the same thing in my own little home.  It's either that (which I reluctantly admit), or I am getting older (which I also reluctantly admit).

There I was, bundled up in blankets in my upstairs bedroom at "V"s house, when I realized that I must move quickly on my winter preparations!  (I should mention that there were plenty of extra blankets available, just in case, but I was warmer under the covers than above them!).  In spite of my uncomfortable coldness, however, I knew deep in my heart that whatever Mother Nature had in store for the Northeast this season, I want, and need, to be able to get to "V"s home.  Our relationship is budding, blossoming, and blooming right in the midst of the falling leaves!  I do not want to disturb this glorious growth in any way.

 

Thus, I spent a recent morning in the tire shop having my warm-weather, extremely road-weary tires replaced by ready-to-go studded snows.  And what a warm day it was!  Bright sunshine.  The leaves alive with glorious colors.  Above normal temperatures.  I felt like a complete fool!  What idiot has their snow tires put on when they could be out enjoying such a gorgeous day?  (I was relieved to learn from the manager of the tire shop that two other idiots had done the same thing a few days earlier, and sincerely hoped to loudly, and proudly, pass by them during my travels.

 

And sure enough, the night after my little blue Honda Fit started wearing her winter boots, the temperature plummeted!  (Alright... maybe that's a slight exaggeration... I'll let you decide if twenty degrees lower deserves that description.).  Instead of daytime highs in the upper 60's and even low 70's, with the nights not dropping under the low fifties, the days were now only reaching the low fifties, with the nights dipping below the freezing level in the "higher elevations."

And it is those very same "higher elevations," known in the Northeastern corner of the United States as the foothills to the Catskill Mountains, that I want, I need, to drive over to get to "V"s quaint valley home.  So that I can get to know her better.  Spend more quality time with her.  Share in her sweet stories of a simpler time, when people were more patient, able to wait and trust, rather than worry and doubt.

So bring on the snow, Mother Nature!  I am prepared for whatever your plan is for this year's Northeastern winter.  And I'm ready to huddle with "V"!


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In Honor of "A"

Two weeks ago, I learned that "M"s one surviving sister, "A", had passed away.  Her long-time caregiver in Florida had notified me, specifically instructing me not to be sad about the news.  "A" was only a month shy of her ninety-eighth birthday, but according to certain family members, had not had a high quality of life for a number of years.

 

I did feel sad, despite the caregiver's request, but I also felt honored to have spent a great deal of time with "A" during my extended stay with "M" in her new Gulf Coast Home last holiday season.  And although I did not know "A" nearly as long or as well as her primary caregiver did, I nevertheless was able to develop a completely objective, and rather contrary, perception of "A"s quality of life based on my time shared with her.

 

When I first met "A" in November of 2011, she resided in a small assisted living facility about twenty minutes from the Gulf Coast.  This is where I spent the wonderful 3 Senior Sisters Thanksgiving! After that, I did not see "A" for another year, during which time the oldest sibling, "L", had passed away.  Then, during a total of seven weeks that I spent in the sunshine state as "M"s caregiver during late 2012 into early 2013, I was privileged to enjoy at least the same number of visits with "A" at her residential facility.  And in hindsight, they were all full of quality!

 

Three of the visits were on holidays:  Christmas, New Years, and Valentine's Day.  All of these occasions involved parties that were hosted by every single member of the assisted living facility's staff, from the director to the nursing aides to the cooks.  For Christmas, they were all decked out as Santa's Helpers, wearing some type of green and red Elf outfit.   On New Years, the staff donned party hats, beaded necklaces, and a myriad of noisemakers.  Valentine's Day took the cake, though, with every employee looking like Cupid, with red and white hearts scattered throughout the facility.  In my mind, each of the events was a wonderful experience, filled with laughter, love, and companionship.  I remember feeling extremely grateful to be a part of the all the festivities.

 

I also recall that "M"s big sister "A", in spite of being restricted to a wheelchair, was absolutely delighted by all of the activities, clearly in her element in a part atmosphere that included music, food, and all around camaraderie.  Still a towering presence in a seated position, I suspected that in her heyday she was even taller than her little sister, who had been at least six feet in height in her heyday.   Side by side, both made a glorious pair of great snowy egrets!

 

Like "M", "A" loved to sing, and these holiday celebrations gave her the opportunity to belt out some of her favorite tunes.  "A" had the stronger, deeper, louder voice of the two distinguished birds, and took great pleasure in singing along with (and ultimately drowning out) the karaoke music and live singers (most of whom were staff members), all of whom so graciously gave their time and energy to ensure that the residents of the facility had a happy holiday season.

 

I can still picture "A" now, joyously singing along with holiday carols, hokey love songs, and a variety of other fan favorites, including "I Could Have Danced All Night" from "My Fair Lady."  Her booming voice seemed to echo throughout the dining room, and like her baby sister, "M", she quite clearly took great joy in her musical renditions.  The only difference was that unlike the humming "M", her big sister actually knew some of the lyrics.  For my part, I opted for a combination of singing and humming, so I wouldn't appear to side with either sister in style!

 

We all had great fun, and there were plenty of smiles to go around.  Admittedly, I did not know what "A"s life had been like prior to meeting her a year earlier, when the three siblings shared their last Thanksgiving together.  But based on the time I was lucky enough to enjoy with her in the year since then, she certainly seemed to relish every single moment as much as she possibly could!  It was quite admirable indeed, and I often thought how nice it would be if everyone everywhere could relish a moment with the as much joy as "A" did.

 

From family stories that were passed down by "M" before her Dementia worsened, I learned that at one time, "A" had been extremely active physically, participating in a number of outdoor recreational hobbies.  "M" used to tell me about how she and her sister would go hiking up in the Woods when they were girls, occasionally getting far off track, and it sounded as though "A" shared the same adventurous spirit as her younger sibling. 

In fact, other family members had confirmed the story of "A" qualifying to be in the Olympics as a young adult.  The event was in one of the Track and Field categories, and "A" was one of the top competitors in her area.  Unfortunately, due to the growing wartime tension in Europe at the time, where the Olympics were to held, "A"s father, opting on the side of safety, had kept his daughter from participating.  I imagined that "A" must have been heart-broken, perhaps in the way that "M" would have been were she prohibited from flying.  In fact, when "M" tried to reveal bits and pieces of the story to me, there was always a sadness in her voice as she told the tale of her older sister.

 

One early winter afternoon (which would translate into 70 degree temperatures in Florida) while visiting with "A" at her assisted living facility, we had a quieter, considerably less festive visit in her bedroom.  "A" had lived in the facility at this point for a number of years, and her bedroom was decorated nicely with mementos from her past, especially a number of photographs.  The room was large and bright, and included its own bathroom, and "A" seemed to think of it as her home.  I had heard that she lost her real, long-time home in Florida due to some unscrupulous legal doings, but it seemed to me that "A" had obviously adapted to her new setting.

During this one visit, and subsequent ones, I couldn't help but notice that the Tennis Channel was always on "A"s television set.  Being very hard of hearing, the volume was always turned off, but the scores were shown consistently across the bottom of the television screen.  It was quite clear that "A" took immense pleasure in watching this particular sport, and I was especially impressed at how well-versed her caregiver had become in tennis terminology so that she could discuss the games with "A".

 

Curiously, I asked her caregiver the obvious question, "Did "A" used to play tennis?"

 

Surprisingly, her caregiver replied, "No."  Apparently, although "A" participated in a number of other physical activities over her very long lifetime, tennis was not one of the regulars.  Nevertheless, she had developed an enjoyment of watching the matches in her later years, and had become such a fan, that she could tell you anything about prominent tennis players or current matches.  I remember telling myself that if I ever had the opportunity, I would love to sit down and watch a tennis tournament with "A", just to experience her unabashed enthusiasm.  Unfortunately, I never did get that chance.

 

In the time I spent with "A", I also learned that she loved cats and kittens.  In fact, she had one of her own that was being cared for by a friend.  The cat had lived with "A" at her former residence, located in the Gulf Coast suburbs, and it was a huge loss for her to be separated from her loyal companion. "A" had many pictures of cats in her bedroom, and was quite pleased when I showed her pictures of my own brood.  "A"s friend was kind enough to bring the kitty to visit her when she could, and I was thrilled when "A"s caregiver forwarded me some photos taken later this spring of one of those special reunions between "A" and her beloved friend.  It appeared to me that "A" looked as content as any cat lover I've ever seen, and believe me, as the owner of multiple cats, I know how it feels to be separated from them for a long period of time.  Sheer bliss to have your furry feline nestled safely in your arms again after what feels like an interminably long absence.

The photo of "A" with her cat was the last one I ever received of her, and I am so grateful that it is saved somewhere in cyberspace on my trusty Droid (among dozens of other pictures taken in "M"s company).  A few months prior to that, during my last visit to Florida, I photographed "A" and "M" on the patio of the assisted living facility.  They were sitting next to each other in the warm sunlight, both their heads of beautiful white hair shining brilliantly.  "M" was leaning in towards "A" so that her big sister could hear her.  They were also holding hands and smiling, in the way that loved ones do when they know that their time together may be very short but nonetheless precious.

I may never know what the quality of "A"s life was like before I met her that Thanksgiving of 2011.  I suppose I could find out from her devoted caregiver and friend, if I chose to.  But I think I prefer to remember "A" the way I knew her.  Joyously, and loudly, singing holiday songs.  Happily, but a bit messily, savoring her meals in a dining room full of eternally dedicated staff members dressed in extremely goofy attire.   Holding her baby sister's hand on the patio, warmed by the sunlight and the memories of a gloriously shared youth.  Watching tennis in her room, surrounded by photographs of loved ones, including her dear kitty cat.

Perhaps these times were not of the quality "A" had earlier in her life, but to me, they had a different kind of quality... one filled with frivolity and fun, but still characterized by a high degree of dignity and grace. 

I can only hope that "M" continues to have more times such as these, even without her sister.

And I vow to relish the many more quality moments I intend to spend with "V".

 

From Shelling to Shucking (Photos)

Beyond the football field...

Basking in the Autumn sunlight...

Lies a field of beans...

Tiny pods of soy beans...

Beautiful yellow-green...

So small and fuzzy...

Field of Beans

In the Northeast part of the United States, residents are privileged to enjoy a phenomenon known as
"Indian Summer."  Sometimes it comes earlier in the season, and other years, it arrives later.  Autumn can be ferociously fickle, as are all matters involving Mother Nature.  Only two years ago, our region suffered a blizzard the day before Halloween.  There have been other years when children have trick or treated in shorts and T-shirts.  You just never know what you're going to get!

 

This year, the leaves have started to turn early, especially in the valley where "V" lives.  There have been many mornings where fog has gently blanketed the entire area, an unusual site around here, as the prematurely cold nights magically transformed into stunning sunny days. 

 

Going into the second week of October, the forecast calls for temperatures in the high seventies, which is an absolute delight for early Autumn!  The trees are clearly confused, not knowing whether or not to shed all of their leaves, as some have already done quite unashamedly, or remain completely clothed, modestly waiting to show off their stunning Fall wardrobe made up of spectacular shades of gold, orange, red, and yellow.

 

For most of the Spring and Summer, "V" has been extremely cautious about going outside, even if it is just to sit on her back porch.  There is a small step going from the dining room to the deck, and "V" is understandably fearful of falling, despite a very capable walker (not to mention even more capable caregivers) to brace her.  Her only ventures into the community begin with the kitchen door, where there is a handicapped ramp that leads straight to her car.  Then, she is driven by her weekday caregiver to doctor appointments, grocery stores, the local pharmacy, the library (which somehow manages to keep the large prints in stock!), and any place else that she wishes to go.  Sometimes she is treated to a scenic overlook near the Hudson River, which she very much enjoys.  The world viewed primarily through a car window!

During my last visit with "V", however, she ventured into new territory, much to my surprise and delight.  On a bright and beautiful Autumn afternoon, "V" asked if we could sit out on the back porch.  It was later in the day, so the sun would not be directly upon us, which "V" preferred.  I don't think I've jumped up that quickly from her comfy couch in the past two months!   Sit outside?  Of course we could, and would, sit outside!

What this really meant was not so much that "V" desired fresh air or even a change of venue from her comfy reclining chair, but that she had begun to trust in me as one of her caregivers.  Walking is a scary task for "V", and I didn't want to push her into doing something she wasn't yet comfortable with.  Trust is something that needs to be earned, and I believe that her request to sit on the patio was the first of a series of steps that needed to be climbed on the ladder of trust.

And so we began our journey.  Carefully and ever-so-cautiously, "V" slid her walker up to the double sliding glass door that separates the dining room from the deck.  Outside the screen door, there is a small, somewhat awkward little step that needs to be taken in order to get outside.  Standing as closely behind "V" as she would allow, I watched as she gently guided her way out onto her patio, something she may not have done since before her debilitating fall last year.  There were two white, plastic Adirondack style chairs just waiting there for us to make their acquaintance, and we sat each sat down in one, the glorious rays of the late afternoon sun beaming down on both of our backs.

"Wow!" I exclaimed.  "This is wonderful!"

"V" looked at me and smiled, nodding her head in agreement.  I happened to notice that she looked very proud, as she very well should be of her accomplishment.  I imagined how tentative my own footsteps would be, if I took any at all, after a nearly debilitating tumble down the basement stairs leading to a broken neck.

"You did great," I encouraged her!  "You're a natural at this!"

I, on the other hand, managed to not-so-gracefully trip over the small step, juggling our two large-print books as in the process.  "V" had asked me to bring them out with us so that we could both read, and she seemed entertained by my misstep.

"I often fall asleep reading in the warmth of the sun," "V" told me, and I responded that there was nothing wrong with that.  She was not one that was prone to naps during the afternoon, and I was amazed at how she was able to stay awake throughout the days we'd already shared together.

About an hour later, I opened my eyes with a start!  A bit disoriented, I looked around to get my bearings, and noticed my large print book wide open on my sagging lap.

"You fell asleep, Dear," "V" informed me, her tone one of amusement. 

"Oh my gosh..." I began to apologize.  "I'm so sorry."

"No need to apologize, Dear," "V" consoled.  "I've done it many times."

Well maybe she did, but certainly not today!  While I was slumped in my chair, not-so-gracefully snoozing on the job, "V" was taking in all the glorious splendor of the early October day. 

Her property was large and multi-leveled, the driveway under the porch separated by some steps and a rock wall from the football field sized backyard below it.  And just beyond that, separated by a layer of wildflowers and bushes, lay a spectacular, yellow-green field of... ??? 


I certainly had no idea.  Nor did "V" when I asked her.  I wasn't a farmer by nature, but I had grown up in the Northern suburbs of NYC, as well as gone to undergraduate school in Albany, New York.  Actually, my first boyfriend in college was a corn farmer, who dabbled in strawberries when they were in season.  Although the relationship was destined to last a mere seven months, I nevertheless learned a lot about the hard work being a farmer involves... Especially in the Spring, when middle-of-the-night watering of the fields provides a harsh lesson in sleep deprivation.  It's funny now to think that at one time, I had envisioned being a farmer's wife.  I don't know who I thought was going to do all of the cooking in the giant home-style country kitchen, but I certainly knew it wasn't me!

Back to the present, and "V"s mystery field.  There it lay in all its glory, whatever it was!  And so, ever-curious by nature, and much less fearful of seeking out an answer than I had been in my earlier college days, I announced to "V" that I was going to walk down to the field and find out what was growing there!

"You're going down there? she asked with a hint of horror, as if I were about to go cliff-diving.

"Sure.  It's a beautiful day and I could use the exercise," I reasoned.  "Plus, I have to find out what the heck is growing!"

"Okaaaay," she said hesitantly, drawing the word out cautiously.  Then, she instructed me in a very motherly way to go ahead, but to take the utmost care.  Another sign of trust, I wondered?  Perhaps.  We were making some major headway today!

So off I trounced to the field below the yard shaped like a football field, eager to solve the mystery.  Or perhaps I bounced.  Whatever I did, I'm sure it was an ever-so-graceless combination of the two!   And either way, I landed at the foot of the large yellow-green field, absolutely in awe of its beauty.

From behind me, and much to my surprise, a voice called out, "Go ahead.  Try some!"

I turned around quickly, and was thus introduced to one of "V"s neighbors, a friendly, slightly scruffy looking man around my age who lived in the house next-door with his family. 

"Is this your field?" I asked, expecting a definitive "Yes!" followed by a resolution to the nature of the mystery crop.

"Nah," he drawled with a smile.  "It belongs to the farmer."  I wondered who "the farmer" (as if there was only one in the area) was, but kept that query to myself.

Instead, I asked the question of the day, "What's growing out there?"

"Those?" he pointed to the yellow-green field, which was much larger up close than it looked from "V"s porch.  "They're all soy beans!"

Then he again encouraged me, this time in a softer voice, to try some.  "They're ready for pickin'.  And the farmer won't mind."  Almost in a whisper, he added, "I took some myself the other day."

Well... if "the farmer" wasn't going to mind, and if they were ripe for the picking, then I guess I would try some, I reasoned to myself.  There was just one tiny problem.  I had no clue whatsoever how to handle a soy bean plant!  My ignorance must have been crystal clear to the neighbor, probably due to my baffled expression, who instructed me to "Just pick the pods off the plant... like peas!"

Oh!  Like peas!  I was too embarrassed to admit that I'd never picked pea pods directly off the plant, but I had a strong hunch as to how to manage the task..  I may not have learned much about farming or cooking in my early years, but I certainly knew what a pea pod looked like!  They are my favorite vegetable, and I savor their sweet flavor.

And so, I picked my first soy bean pods!  I didn't want to go over-board, even though there were thousands and thousands of plants, each with dozens of pods, so I decided to pick three!  One for me, one for "V", and one for the next caregiver on shift, just in case "V" and I were accidentally poisoned by the mysterious beans.  Then she could figure out the source of our unfortunate demise!

I thanked the neighbor for his hospitality, and hurried out of the field, eager to share my "discovery" with the waiting "V", whose head I could see from a distance still nose-down in her book.  I guess she wasn't as worried about how I was faring in the field of beans as I had first thought... that, or she had dismissed me as being completely insane!

Bouncing and trouncing (and huffing and puffing) my way back up to "V"s porch, I held out my hand and proudly (and ever-so-gracefully) displayed my treasure.  "They're soy beans!" I managed to announce through my embarrassing efforts to catch my breath.  I obviously needed more exercise... or an oxygen tank!

"V" expressed her amazement that I actually went down to the mystery field and spoke with the neighbor, as if I had gone on some sacred expedition.   "He's very nice, isn't he?" she said.  "What's his name again?"

I told her his name, and she nodded and smiled with remembrance.  "That's right.  I had forgotten."

"But what about the pods?" I was thinking, trying to remain cool as a cucumber ("V"s favorite vegetable) on the outside.  "Ask me about the pods!" my mind raced eagerly.

I couldn't wait any longer, and thrust my fisted hand in front of "V"s face to unveil the mystery hidden in my palm. 

"See?"  I finally unfolded my hand.  "They're soy pods!"  The silly words seemed to stumble (of course, not-so-gracefully) out of my still-gasping mouth.  I just couldn't conceal my glee at my accomplishment any longer!  Not only had I solved the mystery of what was growing in the yellow-green field, but I had survived the dangerous trek there and back!

"V" gently reached out her hand, her skin so clear and unblemished even after ninety-five years, to touch the fuzzy pods, and I could sense her satisfaction at my achievement.  "I'm so glad someone finally found out what was growing down there!" she complimented me with a big smile.

"Do you want to taste them?" I asked, as if I was about to share a gigantic secret with a special friend.

"Sure," "V" replied.  "Let's give them a try!"  She sounded like as big an adventurer as me!

Carefully, I slit the pods down the seam on the side to reveal three tiny light green beans.  Soy beans!

Still a tad bit concerned about poisoning "V", I tentatively tried the first bean myself.  I'm not so sure if "V" noticed due to the glare of the late afternoon sun, but my face contorted at the not-so-sweet taste of the oval-shaped little gems.  Peas they definitely were not!!!

"You try one," I handed a bean to "V" to see what her reaction would to the taste would be.

"They're not bad," she said, but I think she was just being kind.  Criticism did not seem to be a part of "V"s kind nature, and in the two months that I have been acquainted with her, she has not said a harsh word about anyone or anything.   I very much admired that about her, and vowed to try harder to be more that way myself.

"Let's bring them inside and save them," "V" suggested after tasting one.  "Then we can show everyone what they are."  If that wasn't an ever-so-polite way of saying "Yuck!  These taste terrible!", then I don't know what was!

And that's exactly what we did.  I displayed the soy pods on top of the bright red candy container that sat prominently in the center of "V"s dining room table (talk about two opposite taste sensations!), and "V" and I were equally able to admire their beauty while we ate our soy-less dinner salads, mine full of sweet peas and hers brimming with tasty cucumbers.

Afterwards, we both retreated to the living room to watch another Turner Classic Movie, a highly entertaining comedy farce from the mid-1930's.  Before tucking her into bed following the film, "V" thanked me for a "very nice" day, and I felt very happy and fulfilled.  The foundation of trust that we were building had become cemented in our relationship thanks to a sun-drenched afternoon on the porch and a field of beans.

While I lay in bed that night, I acknowledged my gratefulness.  I still missed "M" terribly, but I was lucky to have another delightful elderly friend in my life, someone not only to share new experiences with, but to savor fascinating stories of the past.  I felt very full (but thankfully not of soy beans!).

"How odd," I thought before falling asleep.  "I've gone from shelling to shucking in under a year!"

You just never know where the next road is going to take you...




















 

Packed to the Gills

The Barilla Was On Sale!

Those Donuts Deserve Devouring!

 

A Few Extras... Just in Case!

 

 

Just In Case...

The more time I spend with "V", the more she reminds me of my late Grandmother, Rose, who would have been one hundred and three years old last Sunday.  Grandma lived until the age of ninety-four, but the last three years of her life were devoid of any quality, as she was the victim of a heart that would not stop. 

 

Usually, it's the other way around when it comes to matters of the heart, at least according to Celine Dion's unforgettable, eternally gut-wrenching theme to the film "Titanic."  She (and the song-writers) couldn't' have been more right.  The heart does go on after a loved one's life is lost, and they are remembered in many different ways - memorials, testimonials, photographs, memoirs, home-movies (probably now done on the computer), just to name a few.

 

Even when the situation does not involve death, and a loved one moves on in a different manner, perhaps due to a relationship ending or a long distance relocation, they are kept "close at heart," thereby allowing the heart to go on in a never-ending way.

 

In my Grandmother's case, her body, laid up in a nursing home, deteriorated until nearly every internal system had shut down.  All except for her coronary functioning.  She could not speak.  She could not move.  She could not eat.  She just literally shrank from the larger-than-life Grandma that I so adored and admired to an almost skeletal resemblance of a human being.  It was truly heart-breaking, and I often wonder why she was not taken from this life sooner so that she would not have to suffer in that manner.  Why did her heart keep beating?  What was it, or she,  fighting for?  Was there something left undone in her life that required her heart to go on even when the rest of her was entirely gone?

 

I'll probably never know the answer to that, and I'm sure that a lot of others who grieve the loss of their loved ones must wonder the same question. 

 

Other than the last three years, however, Grandma had been clearly cognizant, very verbal and visibly vibrant, always speaking up (sometimes with great persistence) for what she needed or wanted, most of which she usually received.  I remember her telling stories of what it was like living through the depression era, many of which are extremely similar to the stories that "V" is now sharing with me. 

 

In fact, one phrase in particular stands out significantly, as I've now heard it uttered by both Grandma and "V", along with many other older folks that I've been privileged to know.  It seems to reflect a more frugal way of life indicative of the their formative years.   Much later, this way of life became the complete opposite for many of these same people.  For example, take the 1950s, when every day living was made vastly easier by a variety of new gizmos and gadgets, and money was not so much of an "object" as it had been two decades earlier.  Today, we have even more gizmos and gadgets, all highly improved and of a nature that people simply can't live without. 

 

So if you asked "V", or my Grandma (while she was still cognizant, verbal and vibrant), why her kitchen cabinets, cupboards, and closets, (as well as every other area of the house where it was possible to stuff belongings to the gills), were so full, the answer would be exactly the same:  "Just in case."

 

Here's a recent example of a conversation I had with "V". 

 

"Why is your freezer full of things that we don't use?" I asked delicately, already suspecting what the answer was going to be.

 

"What do you mean?" she replied, genuinely unclear of where I was going with the query.

 

"Well..." I continued with some trepidation, not wanting to hurt her feelings in any way, "Like the boxes of donuts, and the frozen cakes, and all those other yummy treats that we don't eat..."  At this point, I wasn't only envisioning the freezer, but also the refrigerator and cabinets, one of which contained over twenty cans of tuna fish.  Honestly, in my seven weeks on the job, I had only used one can for a casserole, and a daytime caregiver had used another one for tuna salad, so, if my math is correct, that still left eighteen cans of tuna fish!   And it wasn't just the canned fish that lined the shelves in great abundance, but also jars of olives, pickles, three bean salad, tomato sauce, etc., many of which were well past their expiration dates.

 

"V"s response was simple and succinct, "They're there just in case."  As satisfactory an answer if ever there was one!  My mind flashed back to my Grandmother's pantry... and freezer... and kitchen cabinets... and linen closets... and every other area of the house where it was possible to stuff belongings to the gills.  Amazingly, she had always said the same thing as "V" did about the excess items.  They were there "Just in case."  Come to think of it, the cabinets, cupboards, and closets throughout "M"s home were much the same way.  Stuffed!  To the gills!

 

In case of what, I used to wonder when I was younger.   Not anymore.  In fact, reflecting on my own storage system, I'd have to say that, at the half century mark, I'm much more like my Grandmother and "V" than I was thirty years ago!

 

"In case of company," was the most obvious answer that both "V" and my Grandma gave.  And upon further explanation, it made perfect sense.  They both were advanced in age, had made many friends over the years, and had a myriad of extended family members, which included not only children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, but also cousins, nieces, nephews, and their children!  Of course they would want to have a variety of food and drink to offer the many visitors that could show up at any given time!

As if her answer weren't satisfactory enough, "V" added, "What if anyone stops by?"  Again, I could recall my Grandmother asking the very same thing.  Sadly, I also remember the many hours she spent alone, just waiting for anyone to stop by.  Except that hardly anyone did.  And if they did, it was only for a short period of time, just long enough to say they were there, but not enough to share some genuine, quality time.  Their early exits were usually justified by valid excuses such as having to pick up the "kids" from some kind of sports practice, or having to drop off the kids at some kind of school function, or even just getting back to work (even if that work was done from home). 

Virginia's point was quite well taken.  I certainly wouldn't want someone to stop by my home and not have any kind of snack or beverage to offer them.  It was the polite thing to do.  Old-fashioned, perhaps, but definitely polite.  Something that all too often seems to have gone by the wayside in today's hectic times.  Besides, people are now able to meet for a "quick cup of coffee" (in an amazing array of tastes and sizes!) at numerous establishments that cater to an easy in and out.  Busy people.  On-the-go.  Always something to do and somewhere to be.   And by the way, watch out for places that serve only tea!  It is making a magnificent comeback in popularity during recent years!

Obviously, it is now a very different world than the one that "V" and "M" and my Grandma knew when they were growing up.  Money was tight, and scarily, some people never even knew where their next meal was coming from.  Folks tended to stock up their cabinets, cupboards, and closets for very good reason, just in case there was no more to be had at the local marketplaces, and so that their families would not go without food and other essentials necessary for survival.   Even when economic times improved, the habit of stocking up "just in case" became ingrained in many individuals who had muddled through some very meager years.

"V" was clearly one of these people, and I admired her frugality, as well as her sense of hospitality, both of which kept her home full of anything that was needed.  I also admired her pride, which was probably the driving force behind the over-flowing storage areas.  My grandmother had exhibited this same quality.  It was much easier to keep the house well-stocked "just in case" than to face the reality that not many people really "stopped by" anymore. 

During my last visit with "V", however, I couldn't help but add to the collection of goodies stored safely throughout the kitchen.  Since we never touched any of the treats that were tucked away in the back of the refrigerator and freezer (the "just in case" stash), I decided to bring my own collection.  Since I would be with "V" for the entire weekend, I packed up a bag full of cookies, soda, and other sugary snacks sure to tempt any taste buds.  Many of these were items that perhaps "V" had not tried before, so I was also hopeful to introduce her to some new taste sensations, as well as reacquaint her with some old favorites, like cherry pie.

After lunch, I eagerly offered "V" some of my cookies, thinking that this would make a lovely dessert following a healthy mid-afternoon meal.

"No thank you," she said very politely, perhaps trying not to hurt my feelings.  "I would just rather have a piece of fruit."

Fruit?  Really?  But I was sooooooo used to cookies, soda, and other sugary snacks that had become staples in my diet.  How else does one get through a hectic day in today's whirlwind world?

"Okay..." I thought, trying to fight off extreme internal resistance.  "I'll try a piece of fruit, too."

Wow!  What a miraculous discovery!  The fruit, in this case a pear, was delicious!  What a concept?  Something natural, and not filled with sugary additives, but that still tasted sweet!  I vowed to eat more fruit with "V" after our meals.  Besides, it never hurts to try something new.

By late afternoon, however, I was growing sleepy.  I was used to my mid-day sugar high, the one that would keep me going during a typically busy day.  "V" had placed her large-print book down in her lap and napped for a while, and following her lead, I began to doze off, too.

Suddenly and somewhat startlingly, "V" chirped, "Would you like some ice cream, Dear?"

I seriously thought I misheard the question, so I stupidly reiterated the same words in return, "Would you like some ice cream?"

"Yes," "V" confirmed.  "Just a little, though, because it's a little too cold today."  I was ecstatic!  A little was better than nothing, and I could feel my mouth begin to water at the thought of the sugary sweetness.

Then, an even bigger surprise slid out of "V"s lips. "Can we have some of that pie you brought with you, along with the ice cream?" 

Pie?  Of course we could have pie!  I had purchased two individual sized cherry pies at the corner quick stop before arriving for my shift, and had hoped with all my might that "V" would show some interest in them.

"Only half a piece, though," "V" cautioned.  "Okay," I again reasoned to myself.  Half a piece is better than no piece at all.

Of all the pie a-la-mode I've had throughout my lifetime, I'd have to say that this particular serving was the most enjoyable ever, thanks to "V"s company and her thorough enjoyment of the treat.  She seemed to savor every bite, as if to make the experience last as long as possible.  I wondered if this was what it was like during the Depression.  Did people savor every bite, wondering when and where the next one would come from?  Did they enjoy life's little pleasures, such as a good conversation over a piece of pie, stripped of all the gizmos and gadgets that are supposed to make life "simpler"?

By the end of the day, "V" and I once again became engrossed in an old movie on showing on television.  Actually, we were on the second film of an unintended double feature.  The break between the movies was not long enough for me to prepare a proper, healthy meal like the ones we usually ate at the dining room table.  I expressed my concern to "V", who much to my surprise, suggested, "I suppose we could just have some leftovers and eat them in front of the TV." 

Had I just heard her correctly?  My ears had been clogged up a bit from a recent cold, so perhaps they weren't operating at one hundred percent yet.

I once again stupidly reiterated the her words in return, "Do you want to have some leftovers and eat them in front of the TV?"  By this point, "V" must have thought I was either hard-of-hearing or completely incapable of making a decision on my own.

"Sure," she answered with a slight glimmer in her eyes.  "Why not?  We certainly don't want to miss the movie."

I didn't have to hear that twice!  I hurried into the kitchen and whipped together some hot dogs and leftover macaroni and cheese from the night before, getting the meal together just in time for the film.  Not the healthiest, properly prepared, formally served meal that we had become used to eating, but definitely not something we would starve from either! 

"Hurry up!" "V" called from the living room.  "You're missing the start of the movie!"  Her voice was louder and more insistent than I'd ever heard it thus far in our relationship.  It was a wonderful sound.

I hustled the food into the living room while "V" updated me on what I had missed during the first two minutes of the movie.  I was both amused and surprised at the sight of her.  There she sat in her reclining chair, large print book laid out on her lap, completely ready to have the dish  set down so that she could eat in front of the television set.  It was as if she'd been doing this all her life!  (Which, sorry to say, I had actually been doing most of my life!).

"There's a tray over there for you," she pointed, and I rushed over to retrieve it.  The tray was covered in dust and decorated with a few cobwebs, so I raced into the kitchen to give it a quick rinse.  Judging from its appearance, it definitely had not been used in a while, if ever.  Perhaps it was one of those "just in case" items that was stored around the house for use if anyone happened to stop by.

Both "V" and I thoroughly enjoyed our meal and the movie.  And after it was over, she surprised me yet again.  I didn't know what to expect from this youthful elderly woman anymore!

"Maybe we can have some more ice cream and the rest of that pie?" she asked, a big grin on her face.

"Sure!" I exclaimed, perhaps too gleefully, but at this point, who cared.  We had already broken all rules of mealtime etiquette and gone way beyond the proper dinner-time regimen. 

After we were both seated with our pie a-la-modes, ready to watch two of "V"s favorite Saturday night BBC programs, I asked her if she had ever eaten dinner in front of the television set before.

"Nooooo!" she said emphatically, shaking her head back and forth.  "My mother didn't raise me that way."  She described the mixture of despair and disappointment that her long-passed mother would experience at such a sight.

"I think your mother is smiling down on you right now," I told "V" in all sincerity, then added, "And if she had lived to be ninety-five, I bet she'd be doing the same thing."

"Maybe," "V" mused.  "But I'm not so sure.  She was a stickler for being proper."

"I think she would have approved," I countered, thinking of how happy mother's feel when they know their children are content and at peace.

One thing was certainly for sure at the end of our evening.  "V" and I had clearly jumped over the hurdle of the "just in case" stash.  Granted, I wasn't exactly "company" in the truest sense of the word.  I was being compensated to provide companionship for "V".  But salary aside, the enjoyable time spent together with "V" could not possibly be measured in monetary terms.  It was an absolute delight and a real privilege to share this experience with her, and once again, I was left feeling extremely grateful.

As I went to sleep that night, I imagined my Grandmother smiling down at me on what would have been her one hundred and third birthday.  I wished I had spent more moments with her enjoying life's little pleasures.  In particular, I was extremely sorry that I had not taken the opportunity to enjoy her "just in case" stash by simply taking the time to stop by more frequently and enjoy some conversation, and perhaps a few sweets, with her.

Just like "V"s Mother, I had the feeling that Grandma would have greatly approved of the way "V" and I had spent our day.  In fact, I was absolutely certain she would, as I my mind began to recall many memorable times that I shared with my Grandmother as a young child eating ice cream and pie in front of the television set.

I would definitely have to replenish my own cabinets, cupboards and closets when I got home... just in case...