FUN Tuesdays and Dog Tales in the Dark

Welcome to the dog days of summer in New York State!

It seems like only a short time ago I was whining about our winter woes... and how difficult it is to travel by car across the Catskill Mountain Foothill Region of the Hudson Valley to visit a very dear friend named "V".

Given that not too distant experience, it would not seem fair for me to whine about the severe Summer storms our region of the state has been having the past few weeks, especially when other parts of the country are being ravaged by terrifying tornadoes, devastating droughts, and ferocious floods.

To be fair, there was a tornado that touched down in a small New York State town the other night that killed at least four people.  For people not from this area, this occurrence is actually not uncommon.  Nor are floods, as there are certain rivers and creeks that often overflow from a surplus of rain, crippling entire communities in their wake.

If only we could share our deluge of water with the drought victims out West...

Recently, I went to visit "V" on a Tuesday night.  It is a fun evening to share with her, as her eyes light up at the prospect of watching the long-running, immensely popular television drama, "NCIS."  I believe that "V" has a crush on the show's star, Mark Harmon, and any mention of his name makes her eyes sparkle almost as brightly as seeing her new great-grandson in person.  Almost.  Nothing can quite compare to that joyous moment.

But watching Mark and company on a Tuesday night comes pretty darned close, and I get great joy out of sharing this not-so-secret pleasure with her.  

Alright.  I admit it.  One of the other main characters, Tony, is pretty easy on the eyes, too.  As a movie buff, I find his frequent film references and quirky characterizations quite entertaining.  Equally valuable are the other members of the cast, most of whom (We miss you, Ziva!) have become an endearing constant in a world filled with never-ending change.

Plus, it's just plain FUN to watch something FUN with another person that appreciates the FUN!  And that's what "V" and I, and millions of other viewers, have in common on Tuesday nights.

This recent Tuesday, however, was definitely different.  

For one thing, "V" didn't want any chocolate pudding and cream puffs during the show, stating that she was on a self-imposed diet.  What?  No chocolate pudding and cream puffs during "NCIS"?  It certainly wouldn't be right to have some without her. I sensed this was going to be an unusual evening.

Although FUN had been downgraded to fun, I still knew we would have fun, chocolate pudding or not!

A more significant change in routine occurred throughout the entire broadcast, and it was something that simply could not be ignored.

Across the top of the TV screen in BIG RED LETTERS was an ongoing warning about a very dangerous storm that was moving quickly approximately fifteen miles Northwest of "V"s home.  60 MPH winds.  Heavy downpours.  Lots of lightening strikes.  And a possible tornado.

Okay, the letters were not THAT big.  They only seemed that way to me thanks to my brand new birthday bifocals.  Yes.  I am proud to admit that I have officially joined the millions who, as they age, must begin wearing bifocals for distance and close-up reading.  And to think... if this weather warning had been flashing across the TV screen only a few short weeks ago, before my birthday bifocals, I would not have been able to read it, thereby continuing to enjoy "NCIS" in blind ignorance of the severe weather that was approaching.

I also wouldn't have been able to see Tony quite as clearly as I now could.  WOW!  The actors on TV really aren't all blurry after all!!!

As if the letters weren't enough, my new Samsung Galaxy cell phone (not the latest and greatest edition, just a mid-grade model), whose performance was greatly inferior to my trusty old Droid, decided to step-up and be noticed.  Extremely loud and unpleasant sounding noises emoted from the gadget throughout the course of the show, also alerting me to the dangers of the imminent storm.  I suppose this is a very good feature to have in a mobile phone, but NOT during Tuesday night's airing of "NCIS"!  Luckily, I could put that feature on vibrate.

"V" is hard of hearing, although she does wear hearing aides, and her vision is inferior to mine.  That turned out to be a good thing.  With every weather warning that I heard or saw, I looked over at her to see if she had noticed it.  Nah... She remained happily engrossed in Mark and Co., even though, to be honest, he rarely looks happy in the show... probably because he is so seriously solving crimes while at the same time being the straight-man leader to a bunch of amusingly quirky sidekicks. 

"V" was having FUN.  And I was having fun.  And there is a difference!

Next to her television set is a window that looks out upon a giant maple tree.  It is a beautiful tree, especially in the Autumn, and its' gorgeous rainbow of leaves can almost make one forget the mess that it makes when those very leaves turn an ugly brownish gray and all drop to the ground.  Almost. 

"V"s Home from a Distance... With a Giant Maple Tree as a Hat!

Even in the dark, I could see that the leaves were beginning to blow wildly, but not steadily.  More of a gusty pattern.  Increasingly gusty.  Thanks to the bifocals, the leaves weren't blurry either, and that beautiful maple tree began to look more and more like a major threat as the branches swayed back and forth with a highly uncharacteristic fury.   My FUN level had now dropped from fun to fun.

I didn't want to interrupt "V"s FUN, however, so I kept my growing anxiety about the approaching weather to myself.  

Luckily, the storm passed North of us, and we were able to finish watching the entire episode of "NCIS."  Another case solved in a most satisfactory manner!  And another whole week to wait before seeing our favorite heroes save the day (unless you watch the USA Network at certain times during the week... then you could enjoy what is commonly called "Marathon Viewing," episode after episode after episode aired back-to-back-to-back... talk about taking away the FUN of anticipation!  Some things still actually are worth waiting for, making the experience that much more FUN!!!)

"V" turned to Turner Classic Movies after "NCIS" ended, which is her usual back-up plan when something she usually watches has come to a conclusion.  An early black and white film featuring a very young Maureen O'Hara and a supporting "B" movie actress named Lucille Ball (in a flamboyant back-up role that was not a Lucy to love) was playing, and "V" told me she had seen this when it first came out in theaters, seventy-five years or so ago!  It always amazes me when she tells me about seeing some of these old classics as first-run features so far back in time.  Then again, my seventeen year old son seems to have that very same amazement when I talk about films from the 1970's and 1980's... long before I needed bifocals!  And especially ones I saw at the now nearly defunct Drive-In Movie Theater.  (We are indeed lucky, however, to have two in our area!)  

Ahhhhhh... The Good Old Days!

I couldn't help but wonder what kinds of movies from his youth he would talk about when he got older, and the thought was a scary one!

Maureen and Lucy were not to keep us company for very long, however.  Although it had appeared and sounded as though we had dodged the severe storm, a sudden power surge drained all of the electricity from the house, reminding me that we were still dangerously close to the wild weather.

Dangerously close and now extremely dark.

Luckily, "V" had a wide assortment of flashlights strategically placed throughout her home, in all colors and sizes.  Knowing there were two near the microwave, I fumbled into the kitchen and found the blue one for myself.  Next to "V"s chair was an everything side table, where she literally kept anything and everything she could possibly need while seated there.  Not surprisingly, this included a yellow flashlight, which I helped place in her lap.  

And there we sat... "V" in her blue chair holding her yellow flashlight, and me, now feeling kind of yellow, clinging to my blue flashlight.  

This, I thought miserably, is NO FUN!!!

Or was it?

"V", oddly enough, seemed completely un-phased by the loss of power to her home.  I suppose that when you live to be ninety-six, you've more than likely experienced one too many moments in the dark.

We started chatting, and at first I was not sure where the conversation would lead.  

After a while, though, the direction became very clear, and it wasn't a bad one at all.  In fact, it had an element of FUN about it!

It was time for dog tales in the dark!

"V" initiated the conversation by talking about their family dog named Lex.  He was a beautiful, but characteristically temperamental,  Irish Setter, with a coat of hair the color of Lucy when she really was loved.  In fact, that's probably around the same time period when young Lex had actually graced the lives of the members of "V"s family.  Her boys were... well... boys, which meant that her tale took place about fifty or sixty years ago.  Over half a century, to put it in a more amazing perspective.

The story was about the time Lex ran off in a terrible thunderstorm.  He was gone three long and worrisome days, and everyone in the family was very upset, especially "V"s youngest son.  "V" recalled how he would crawl into bed with her and her husband, seeking solace as he grieved the possible loss of his beloved pet and best friend.  

With her yellow flashlight shining up onto her face, the only light in the dark room other than my blue flashlight, which was turned off for the moment, "V" looked just about as happy as she did when she was watching Mark Harmon in "NCIS."  And if you've gotten anything out of this excessively long blog entry so far, then you know just how happy that is!!!

As she talked about the lost dog, and the comfort she gave to her youngest son, who was only a small boy at the time, I could swear that "V" actually did look fifty or sixty years younger, transported to a very bright time and place that defied the darkness.  She was back in another era, a young mother to a treasured family, a memory that had been rekindled, perhaps, because of the power outage.  Or in spite of it.  There may not have been much light around us, but whatever light there was radiated from "V"s tone of voice and flashlight tinted joyful expression.  

She continued her tale about her family's missing canine.  After three days of anguish, Lex showed up at the front door, bounding into the home happily.  Everyone, especially the boys, was thrilled at his return, even "V", who was then tasked with cleaning up Lex's large muddy footprints from everywhere in the house! When a pet goes missing, she and I agreed, it is like a piece of a puzzle that just can't be found.  Better to know the fate of the pet than to be left in the dark about its whereabouts.

I suppos it's that way with many things in life.  

When "V" was done talking about Lex, I told her about my girl, Goldie, a clumsy Golden Retriever mix who had been an integral part of the family when my son was a little boy.  And although the tale didn't happen nearly as far back as "V"s, it nevertheless held many similarities.

I told "V" how I felt when Goldie ran off in the thunderstorm.  She was gone for over a week, and I was full of guilt and sadness, which I tried to hide as I, too, provided solace to a young boy who was grieving the disappearance of his beloved pet and best friend.  It was only thirteen years ago, not nearly as long as "V"s five or six decades, but the memory had been rekindled by the same power outage, and the images were just as clear and crisp.

My family found Goldie after nine days, and hundreds of dollars worth of signs posted throughout the county.  I told "V" how we would get leads about her, phone calls to come look at dogs that had been found after the storm.  It's amazing how many of our four-legged companions go missing in the wake of severe thunder and lightening.  And it is indeed a miracle when they do come back to us.

Lex came back to "V" and her young family a long time ago, but the images were as clear in her mind as if it was yesterday.   In fact, I imagined that Lex had crossed the Rainbow Bridge quite a few decades ago, yet here he was, brightening up a dark room in present time.

As was my Goldie, who crossed that same bridge only three summers ago, at the age of sixteen.  

Me and Goldie a Month Before She Crossethe Rainbow Bridge

How much joy both animals had brought to our children!  And to us, as Mothers!  Were it not for the lights going out, "V" and I may never have shared these wonderful memories.

And so our FUN evening ended, with thoughts of Mark, Tony, Lex, and Goldie warming our hearts.  (The rest of our bodies were already quite warm, as the air conditioner had now been off for a while, and the wild weather brought with it an 

Lex (Immortalized Forever as a Figurine)

oppressive mugginess that is a common 
characteristic of the dog days (no pun
intended) of Summer on the East Coast!)

Ultimately, the power came back on, and in the morning, the savage storm seemed like a distant memory, just like "V"s tale of Lex and my story of Goldie. 

Luckily, our beloved pets continue to wag their tails in our hearts.  Perhaps as "V" and I were sharing our dog tales in the dark, Lex and Goldie were watching from the Rainbow Bridge...


Postscript

A very odd thing had occurred during the night, however.  At one point, I heard "V" speaking in her bedroom.  I went in to see who she was talking to, and as clear as a bell, she pointed to the little boy that she saw standing on the other side of the room. 

"I think that little boy has to go to the bathroom," she told me, pointing at the image only she could see.

I didn't ask who he was.  At ninety-six, I imagined that a great many people and places from the past visited "V" while she slept.

"Okay," I assured her gently.  "We'll help him." 

With that, "V" fell back to sleep within seconds.  In fact, I don't think she even remembered the exchange the next day.  I decided not to bring it up when I saw her again.  Some things are best left to the mysteries of the mind.

I bet that boy had a beloved dog and best friend, though :)

 

 

From Face-Chat to Face-to-Face... A Most Memorable Meeting

During the year that I have been maintaining this blog (and for anyone that has traveled with me for that long, THANK YOU!!!), I feel that I have at times been unfair in my comments about the power of modern technology, particularly the Internet. 

I have a tendency to be a bit cynical (I'm sure you've picked that up, haven't you?), and although I try to say things as politically correct as possible, sometimes my sarcasm slips through.

What can I say?  I'm human.

In all sincerity, however, I would like to officially apologize for anything derogatory I may have said about "www.com."  Seriously.  I take it all back.  

Okay.  There are no "take backs" in life.  Especially when it comes to the written or spoken word.  Believe me, I've learned this the hard way.  Justifications, excuses, and even apologies occasionally  come close to erasing the thing you long to take back, but they never really do.  Not fully.

I don't think that "www.com" has suffered much from any harsh comments I might have uttered, however.  It seems to be pretty firmly established in our society.  Nothing I can say will make it go away, that's for sure!

And after this past week's events, I don't want it to go away.  EVER!!!

Last Friday, I had the pleasure of witnessing what was certainly one of the greatest joys of "V"s very long lifetime.

When I first met her last August, it was immediately following the birth of her fourth great-grandson, whose parents happen to reside in another country.  

And I believe it was during my first weekend with her that I witnessed her actually interacting with the beautiful new baby first-hand, "www.com" and the power of modern technology.

I remember being quite impressed that "V" owned an I-Pad.  I myself don't own an I-Pad.  For Christmas this past year, I was given a lovely little Kindle by a dear old friend, and I treasure it.  And recently, Verizon talked me into purchasing a lovely little tablet for a mere $25.00 when I went in to buy just a keyboard and nothing but a keyboard to use on my lovely little Kindle.  So that I could write entries on my blog, which just so happens to be part of "www.com" (Gee... I never really thought of that before... I've been criticizing and popularizing the very thing I criticized this entire time!  My bad!!!).  

But I still don't have an I-Pad, which seems to be the bigger and best choice for portability and convenience among Internet users (at least if you want to keep your vision in tact, as I unfortunately learned at my eye doctor appointment two weeks ago when I was prescribed bi-focals.  Bi-focals!!!  Really???  No one in my family ever needed Bi-focals at such a young age.  My vision had been fine a few years ago.  Granted, I qualified for AARP benefits a year ago, and have been using store-bought reading glasses for a while, but gee whiz... BI-FOCALS!!!  Those are for old people, right?  Wrong!  It seems I'm a contributor to stereotyping as much as anyone else, and I'm not at ALL proud of it!).  Anyway... I digress... And apologize.

Yes.  When I first met "V" ten months ago, she and her I-Pad seemed to be very close friends indeed.  Granted, much of their interaction involved long games of Solitaire, during which I did not hear as many winning bells as I would have liked to.  Every now and then, the I-Pad would ring or ding, which meant that "V" had an e-mail coming in, but she generally ignored these interruptions in favor of battling her beloved Solitaire.  And occasionally, the gadget would play short, charmingly delightful musical rift, indicating that a phone call was coming through.  Sometimes "V" could hear it, but often she could not.  And again, sometimes she would ignore these interruptions in favor of battling her beloved Solitaire.

If I happened to be close by during a ringing, a dinging, or a charmingly delightful musical rift, I would drop whatever I was doing and run to "V"s side, desperately trying to catch whatever "www.com" was trying to send through.  When the I-Pad was on her lap or next to her, "V" sometimes responded to the sounds herself, usually if she was reading a large-print book and not playing you-know-what.  And the results of these responses were always remarkable

Sometimes, it was a call from her son who did not live nearby.  "V" is always happy to hear from both of her sons, as well as other family members, but it seemed to bring special joy to her that she could actually interact with her farther away son during a face-to-face conversation on her I-Pad.

I soon learned that this process is called "face-chatting", and I have to admit, I was impressed.  I recalled the many times I stood on line at the pay phone in my college dormitory thirty-something years ago, desperately waiting to phone someone I genuinely cared for and greatly missed, (after 11pm of course, because the rates went down then).  I particularly remember that the wait seemed like an eternity...

Then I remembered the process of sending hand-written letters.  Some of you MUST remember those, right?  Those long-ago things that generally were printed on paper, placed in an envelope, and posted by the U.S. Mail?  I sent a LOT of those, being a long-winded, romantic English Major with a preponderance of words that absolutely must be said in a sappy letter or mushy card.  To be fair, I actually received quite a few in return, and still have some of them in a flowery keep-sake box.  I pretend to be jaded about such things, but truth be told, I'm still romantic, sappy, and mushy.  And let's not forget long-winded!

Most people (and I say most because, believe it or not, in today's computerized world, I've actually met some folks who do not seem to fit in with the following statement) value connecting with people they care about.  I stress the word value because it's comforting to know that in our technological world, there is still value in human connection.

Most people now connect via some form of the Internet.  It's just the way things are.  Even our televisions are controlled by Internet carriers, and it's unusual for someone to not have a bundled package of services that include telephone, television, (a thousand cable channels to choose from instead of the the 4 or 5 channels we AARP folks got to select from, if your antenna was facing the right way and you lived near enough to a major city), and, of course, the Internet.  And out of those three, I would bet that a majority of people choose their bundled service carrier based on its Internet capacity, rather then its telephone or television capability.  I could be wrong, though, and if I am, well... I am!

"V" does a lot of her connecting through the Internet, since she has quite a few family members that live a long distance away.  Not all the time, but some of the time.  And she has a bundled service package that allows her to do so for an exorbitant monthly price because they are the only game in town.  (I have the same carrier, so I'm allowed to state that it is indeed exorbitant!).

That's how she can keep in touch with her son.  And two of her grand-children.  Connections she values greatly.  Through this "face-chatting" process, where she is not only able to speak with her loved ones, but also see them at the same time!  And vice versa!  I must admit, that's pretty cool!!!

And that's how she has maintained contact for the past ten months of our acquaintance with her newest great-grandson, a precious and gorgeous ten month old whose parents live in another country.

Through the magic of "face-time", which, at least to me, seems as close to magic as you can get. 

I have to confess, I was mesmerized the first time I witnessed a conversation while "V" was using it.  I don't have face-time myself, so I don't benefit from its magic.  Yet.  And I'm okay with that (for now).  E-mailing is just fine for me (at the moment).  And then there's Face Booking.  Yes!!!  Yes!!!  I admit it!!!  I like to communicate via Face Book!!!  It is amazingly instantaneous and gratifying, which is what people in our world today want, if I'm not mistaken.  Don't let the word get out to too many people, but I have a confession to make.  I actually still write letters and cards that are sent through the U.S. Mail.  Not to a lot of people.  But a few.  And I still feel a surge of genuine, unadulterated JOY when a letter or card addressed to me shows up at the post office.  Ahhhhhh...  The good old days of delayed gratification and patience.  In fact, some cards should be coming my way this week for my first post-AARP birthday!

"V" likes cards and letters very much, by the way.  She keeps an address book on her dining room table, and still sends out birthday and holiday cards to valued friends, as well as receives them when she is having a special day. 

To My Dear....      With Love Always....

But nothing can compare to being with someone you care about in person.  Not a letter.  Or a card.  Or a phone call.  Or a "face-time" chat (there are other names for this type of communication as well).  Nothing is quite as valuable as connecting with someone face-to-face.

And that most genuine form of human contact, where one's true feelings are out there in the open for all to see, is what I was greatly privileged to witness during my most recent visit with "V".

After ten months of "face-time", "V"s newest grandson, a beautiful baby boy with charisma and charm that cannot be completely captured on a computer screen, was right there!!!  In the middle of her living room.  Surrounded by two of "V"s grand-children (one of which was the baby's father, accompanied by the baby's wonderful mother), three of her older great-grandsons (and their wonderful mother), and "V"s faraway son, the baby's proud Grandfather.

Words aren't enough to describe the look on "V"s face every time she looked at this amazing child.  And, at least for the time I was there, it was difficult to find a moment when "V" was not looking at him!  Cherishing him.  Adoring him.  Taking in every sound, smell, sight, and touch of this amazing new life.

FACE-TO-FACE!!!  IN-PERSON!!!  Right before her very eyes in her very own home from her very own chair with her very own family surrounding her.

It was astounding to be in the room for this incredible occasion, and it is moments like this that make being a Caregiver such a wonderful thing. 

I could not be more grateful that I was able to see "V" interact with this beloved baby boy who stood (well... sort of stood... he was actually propped, positioned, and held, but it won't be long before he really is standing on his own) only inches away from her. 

The expression on her face was invaluable, the tears joyful, the joy genuine...  At one point, I think every single person in the room had a camera or camera-phone flashing at the baby and his Great-Grandma.  Except me.  I stupidly left the phone in the car because I was so excited to rush into the house to see "V" and the baby.

No worries, though.  There were plenty of pictures.  And, thanks to the wonder of modern technology, some of the photos were quickly posted on "www.com" via the Internet for everyone to see, wherever they happened to be located.

In fact, much to my surprise, there is a picture of the baby propped up against "V"s chair, with her looking proudly down on him.

But wait...  What's that in between the two of them?  Look closely.... Oh no!!!  It's me!!!  The crazy caregiver who had to be right near all the action!!!  Immortalized on Face Book!!!  I'm not savvy enough to transfer the photo to this blog, and for many reasons, perhaps that is meant to be.  But for those people who are lucky (???) enough to be my Face Book Friends, the picture is somewhere on my Timeline.  (I'm' not entirely sure what exactly my Timeline is, but trust me, the photo is there!)

After the visit ended and all the family members had departed, "V" was exhausted.  Just plain pooped!  For that matter, so was I!  I whipped up a quick dinner for us (Yes!!!  Me!!!  Okay... It was only pasta and microwaveable meatballs, but it involved the stove and a pot, so that qualifies as cooking in my book!), which we ate while watching "Jeopardy."  But by the next television show, "America's Game... Wheel of Fortune", "V" was dozing in her chair, an extremely content and peaceful expression on her face.

She looked so beautiful...  

And I felt so grateful to have been there for a most memorable meeting between "V" and her newest great-grandson... who is also beautiful.

It is only then, in the satisfying silence of a wonderful event experienced first-hand, I realized that it was my son's birthday!  Seventeen!  Where had the years gone?

Me and My Baby Boy, Peter - 1998

We had celebrated that morning with the opening of gifts, and he was spending the weekend with a good friend, so I knew that he was preoccupied with teenage talk (face-to-face and probably on "www.com" as well), and therefore wouldn't miss me too terribly much!  In fact, he was probably grateful that I was spending the evening with my friend "V" rather than getting in the way of him and his almost seventeen-year-old buddy.


But I couldn't help but think back... to when he was just a baby... and when I flew him from the Bay Area of California (where we resided at the time) to New York State to visit my beloved Grandmother, Rose, for the first time.  He was only five months old!  It was so much easier to fly way back then... before 9/11 changed the world irrevocably.

She was only 87 at the time, nine years younger than "V" is now.  I will never forget the joyful tears and heart-warming expression on her face when she saw my son, Peter, (named after her husband and my grandfather, Peter), for the very first time.  In person.  Face-to-face.  Because seventeen years ago, all we had were photographs.  And videotapes.  And these types of things were still sent frequently accompanied by a letter or card via the U.S. Mail.  And, of course, there were phone calls... much easier ones than when I was in college waiting on that long line that seemed to take forever...

Peter and Grandma (Granny) - Watching "Blues Clues" - 1998

It's ironic how much times have changed in such a short amount of time!

I wondered what "www.com" will look like in seventeen more years, as well as what sort of technology I will see when I am as old as my Grandmother or "V", if I am lucky (???) enough to live that long.

I also wondered... do I even want to be around to see it?

The verdict is sadly out on that question.

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY - PART 2

Me and My Dad - December 18th, 2012

I can finally tell you a little more about this Father's Day, and I apologize for the two-day delay.  I wasn't able to write anything on the actual day, although I had so many thoughts swimming in my brain.  It was more like they were drowning in my brain, and needed life preservers desperately. 

Luckily, I found the life preservers during my visit to my Dad's place of rest, a Mausoleum that consists only of engraved marble stones to honor the residents. 

My Sister, Colleen, went with me to visit my Dad.  She is only fifteen months younger than me, and as little girls, my parents and grandparents used to dress us alike.  I think it was more my grandparents' doing.  In particular my Grandmother, as my Grandfather would do whatever she asked him to.  She was sooooooooooo happy that her daughter had baby girls, as her son had four boys and only one girl!  Grandmothers can be funny that way.  What's even funnier is that my Sister and I have always been polar opposites in so may ways.  Hairstyles.  Clothing.  Interests.  You name it, we probably did it differently!  Sisters can be funny that way.

But we did, and still do, share one very important thing... our love for our Father, Bill Wilson.  And since his passing on Valentine's Day, Colleen had not been to his resting place, and was understandably a bit anxious about the Father's Day visit.  Being the brave big Sister, I assured her that everything would be fine.  I had been there before on St. Patrick's Day, and found it to be extremely peaceful and pleasant (except for the bitter cold and a wicked wind that chilled right through my bones!).  Sure.  The place was bound to be busier on Father's Day than on St. Patrick's Day (I was the only soul in site!), but we could handle it!  We'd get through the sadness together.  Besides, the day was absolutely beautiful.  Sunny.  Seasonable.  Not too hot.  Not too cold.  Low humidity (I hate humidity.  It makes my hair all weird!)  Just right.  Probably the nicest day we've had so far all year!

Were we in for a surprise when we arrived at the cemetery.  I'd never seen one quite like this.  There were no tombstones, as there were for my beloved Grandparents.  Rows and rows and rows of tombstones.  Not a one at this place!  Just marble plaques.  They were displayed as memorial benches.  And placed into the ground in extremely well-manicured grass.  There were even memorial boulders, where you could have your loved one's ashes placed.  I think I'd go for the boulder, if I chose to be at a cemetery (which I probably won't because I'd rather become one with nature in some other manner, like being tossed out in the ocean or off a mountain or something similar to that).  The boulder was definitely a cool idea, though.

A lovely view for a former Climber and Pruner!

My Dad was in the actual Mausoleum.  An expansive marble structure with many different sections that were home to thousands of marble plaques.  It could be very confusing if you didn't know where you were going, because the structure had different levels, with one stairwell that reminded me of walking down into a train station. 

Dad's drawer (for lack of a better word... when he was placed there, the coffin was slid into a big drawer) was facing the outside, and had a beautiful view (if drawers can have a "view") of the lush green hills and fully bloomed trees.  He would have liked that, being a climber and pruner for a living.  Lots of greenery.  He would have absolutely loved pruning one of those giant maple trees adorned with his ropes and harness and chainsaw.  In hindsight, our garage was rather scary when I was a child.  Just a bit too many ropes and harnesses and chainsaws.  Not to mention the wood chipper across the street.  Not your average Craftsman cabinets from Sears chock full of practical tools for the at-home handy-man. We were always the odd family on the block, anyway.

My Sister and I were also surprised at the casualness of the cemetery.  Some families had settled in on the lawn to have a picnic, complete with umbrellas, lawn chairs, and food baskets, right near their loved one's in-the-ground marble stone.  It felt a little bit like a musical concert at one of those outdoor pavilions.  Quite a relaxing site on a Sunday afternoon in June, yet also bit off key (pardon the pun) given the venue we were in.

Father's Day - June 15th, 2014

My Dad's marble mausoleum stone is still very bare.  He's one of the newer guests.  I looked into the prices of having a weather-proof photo plaque placed on the stone, or even a simple flower holder.  $400.00 for the simple flower holder!!!  Yikes!  

I decided to take another route rather than displaying fake flowers in a $400.00 container permanently mounted on my Dad's marble stone.  

Stickers!  I had plenty of them at home.  I like stickers.  And stores like to sell stickers to people just like me, who use them for oh so many things.  Tag Sales.  Lost Pet Signs (Sad, but true.  Although I did have success once in finding my beloved dog, Goldie.  She passed away three summers ago, but thanks to the stickers on the giant poster-board signs, we were able to locate her after she went missing.  Granted, it cost $2,500.00 for her new leg, as she had broken one of hers during her twelve day ordeal.  But at the time, my husband and I were able to pay for the bill with something called Care Credit on a monthly installment plan.  And when Goldie got older, and had difficulty walking, that new leg was the one that worked the best!  Go figure!  Modern medical technology at its finest!).  Cards and Scrapbooks.  Flyers.  And now Mausoleum decorations!

It seemed like a good idea.  My only concern was that we might get arrested for defacing property.  No one else had stickers.  They all had flowers.  In the $400.00 containers permanently mounted to the marble stones.  In fact, many of them had artificial flowers, which I figured was due to the fact that the families couldn't afford real ones after paying the $400.00!

But it is technically "our" property.  Granted, my Dad and his wife had purchased the drawer and stone years ago, so it is definitely their property.  But after all, Colleen and I are his daughters, and he is our Father, and we had both watched sorrowfully as his body, contained in a shiny coffin, was slid into that drawer, now concealed by the marble stone, only a few months ago.  Surely we were entitled to decorate the stone with some stickers to commemorate Father's Day.  Weren't we?

I didn't care.  I got busy with my stickers while my Sister cheered me on.  I was always the one to take risks.  Bright green stickers (because Daddy liked greenery) saying "Happy Father's Day".  A few hearts in pretty pastel colors (that's all the store had).  And the word love written out in letters from a psychedelic display I had planned for my porch.  Yes.  I admit it.  I'm a hippie at heart.  Something that, at times, made my Dad cringe.  How we used to fight over my peace, love, and happiness beliefs when I was a teenager.  Harsh words from him about how those ideas would never get me anywhere in life.  Thirty-five years later I still cling to those ideas, although I have a better understanding of where his words were coming from.  He just wanted me to be okay.  To be able to take care of myself as an adult... The same thing I now want for my teenage son.

How ironic that I was now decorating his memorial mausoleum stone with my hippie heart. 

Somehow, I don't think he would have minded.  Not one bit.  Rather, he would have been pleased at the sight of his two polar opposite daughters celebrating his memory in a fun way rather than mourning over a memorial marble stone.  The hippie and the fashionista, united in our mission to honor our Dad.

Yes.  You read it correctly.  Fun.  My Sister and I had FUN at the cemetery.  It was enjoyable to decorate Daddy's marble stone with words and pictures reflecting our love for him.  In fact, I wish there was another holiday sooner than his birthday so that I can do some more stickering!  And since his birthday happens to fall on September 11th, I'm not sure how much decorating I should do.  I don't know.  Maybe the brave men and women who gave their lives on that unforgettable day in our Nation's history would enjoy the display, as there is a monument to 9/11 within viewing range of my Dad's stone. 

What's even better is that our Dad is finally near to us geographically.  Even though he lived in Florida for most of the past decade, he is now at rest in a location that is only ten minutes from the house we grew up in... the one with the ropes, harnesses, and chainsaws in the garage.  And don't forget that wood chipper across the street!  That odd Wilson family!

I promise I will visit you again soon, Dad!  I'm sure I can find lots of stickers of trees and shrubs, although you won't really need them, since you are surrounded by so many lovely ones.

Hey, Dad?  You never saw my mobile home.  It's a bit old, but I've made it cozy.  I decided to decorate the large enclosed porch with stickers!  You'll never guess what kind!  Here's a photo of your hippie daughter's back door!  Don't worry.  I can take care of myself! And wherever you are, I know you are embraced by peace, love, and happiness.

To my loyal readers (if there are any left), I promise all of you that I will update you very soon on my visits with "V".  Here's a brief preview:  She has been doing wonderfully, and is as much of a delight as always!!!

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY

All I can say today is Happy Father's Day.  My sister, Colleen, and I, miss our Dad, Bill Wilson, very much.  We hope that he is resting somewhere surrounded by peace, love, and happiness.

Me, My Dad, and My Sister - 1989

Daddy and His Two Girls - 1965

Honestly Speaking

There comes a point in any relationship where the newness wears off... along with the niceties.

It happens in romantic relationships all the time.  After the honeymoon period (which can vary in length depending upon the two people involved) of being a new couple is over, no longer is one greeted with "I couldn't wait to see you tonight," or "I thought about you all day!"  Really?  ALL day?  Every second of every minute?

The same phenomenon occurs in friendships as well.  There is a "getting to know you" period where true thoughts are not always spoken out loud.  "You look absolutely awful in that color," may be what one of the friends wants to utter, but somehow it spills out as "You look awesome in that color!" 

It's okay to admit it.  I'm sure this has happened to everyone at one point or another in some type of budding connection.  Honesty is necessary for the relationship to blossom.  And genuine, heart-to-heart, cut-to-the-chase honesty is entirely essential for the relationship to grow and thrive.  

Of course, the truth can always be told in a kind and gentle way.  "That's a very nice outfit you're wearing, but I think blue is a better color for you than orange."

From personal experience, I can tell you that effective Caregiving is deeply rooted in relationship building, although it might not be as obvious in the early stages of getting to know a new person.  Or, on the other hand, it might be crystal clear.

Having been a Caregiver for many years, I always enter a new relationship quite cognizant of exactly what I am saying.  I don't want to be overly sugary, but let's be face it.  I want the person to at least like me!  If I'm going to be tending to their most private, personal needs, it's usually best that they feel comfortable around me!

In some Caregiving relationships, the process of "getting to know" each other flows rather quickly, especially when the person suffers from a Dementia related illness, with the tendency to say the same things over and over again.  

Even in that case, however, one can always dig deeper and learn more.  After all, look how rich and rewarding my relationship with "M" turned out to be!  Our relationship, although defined by the parameters of her short-term memory loss, most definitely grew in wonderful ways the more time we spent together!  I miss her terribly, but can't help smiling every time I see an airplane!

After almost ten months together, I can definitively state that "V" and I have entered that more honest, truthful phase of our relationship.  The newness has worn off, and the niceties, although still clearly evident due to "V"s inherently polite personality, are becoming more and more honest the more time I spend in her company.

For example, a few months ago, I discovered that she liked it when I put shredded mozzarella on her salad, along with my ever-so-carefully chopped tomatoes, cucumbers and olives.   Since my sickly looking bowl of lettuce always looks so naked except for the raisins (I just have to have them, even though "V" despises the shrunken little grapes), I decided to try some shredded mozzarella one evening.  Knowing that "V" likes cheese, I put some on her salad as well, and she told me that she liked the "white stuff" very much.

Is the "White Stuff" the right stuff?

But now, as our relationship has budded and blossomed, I am forced to wonder... Was she really telling the truth, or was she just being nice so as not to hurt my feelings?

The reason I am wondering that is simple.  The other night, I told "V" that I we were having pasta and meatballs for dinner.  Usually, I put a bowl of grated cheese on the side of her plate, right next to the salad with the shredded mozzarella that she likes so much.

Before I even began serving the meal, however, "V" called me to her side and said something that completely and utterly surprised me.

"Please," she told me with an earnestness that I had not heard in her voice before.  "No more cheese."

No more cheese?  Had I heard her correctly?  She had said months ago that she liked the shredded white stuff on top of her salad!  What had changed?  Surely not the mozzarella!

"Okay," I said, a bit taken aback.  Actually, my feelings were a bit hurt, an emotion that commonly begins to occur after the newness and niceties of a budding relationship start to wear off.  I didn't show "V" my this, of course, but deep inside, I felt like a bad Caregiver.  There I had been putting shredded white stuff on "V"s salad for months, all the time thinking she was enjoying the taste, when in reality it turned out that she perhaps she wasn't enjoying it after all!

I pondered the situation all throughout dinner, extremely careful not to show my disappointment as "V" and I engaged in our usual pleasant conversation.  

Afterwards, when "V" was relaxing in the living room and I was hidden away in the kitchen cleaning up the dishes, her words hit me even harder.  In fact, they rung in my brain like a church bell chiming.  Or like "V"s little antique clock that rang every hour on the hour.  Over and over and over... "Please... No more cheese."  "Please... No more cheese."  "Please... No more cheese."

My thoughts began to get a little crazy.  Was this the end of our relationship?  Was she going to ask me to leave because I wasn't a good enough Caregiver?  Where had I gone wrong?  What could I do differently?  How could I not have seen the signs that she was sick of cheese?  Did she even like cheese in the first place, or was she just "being nice" because we were developing a new relationship?

Luckily, I had long ago learned a phrase in a Twelve Step Program that I diligently attend that began to ring in my brain just as clearly as a church bell and as persistent as the hourly chimes of the little antique clock.

"How important is it?"  

If ever a slogan was more appropriate, it was this one!  I was tearing my insides apart over something so silly as cheese.  

Slowly, I began to see the situation more rationally.  It wasn't the end of the world that "V" didn't want mozzarella on her salad anymore!  This was something we could learn and grow from!  In fact, this was a wonderful turn of events!  "V" was being honest with me about her feelings.  It had finally happened!  We had reached the point in our Caregiving relationship where she felt comfortable enough with me to tell me the truth.  She didn't want anymore cheese!

My disappointment quickly turned to delight.  I wanted to shout out the front door, for all the world to hear, "She doesn't want anymore cheese!!!"  This, of course, would surely define me as more than a "little" crazy, and I certainly didn't want the neighbors thinking there was an insane woman caring for the elderly woman next door.  How would I ever be able to explain the cheese thing to the authorities when they came to take me away?

When my crazy thoughts at last evened out over the rest of the evening, I felt a great satisfaction inside.  "V" was now able to speak honestly to me.  If she could tell me that she didn't want anymore cheese, then perhaps she could tell me other things that would make me better able to meet her needs.  Our relationship was no longer in the "Honeymoon" phase.  "V" had begun to trust me enough to state her true feelings, even if it meant hurting mine a bit.  This was a good thing!  A great thing!  A giant hurdle, one that so often stands in the way of the success or failure of many a relationship, had been jumped by me and "V".  "V" and me?   Who cares?  We had landed safely! 

I again felt like shouting out the front door, but was able to contain my emotions much more quickly.

Solidifying the new phase of our relationship, a similar situation occurred the very next week when I was getting "V" ready for breakfast.  We were going to have our usual oatmeal made with milk (mine would be instant made with water... and including raisins!), half a glass of orange juice, one slice of buttered toast and coffee.  Just three quarters of a cup. 

Before I even started the breakfast preparation, "V" motioned me closer to her.  She hadn't even gotten to putting her hearing aids in yet, so I figured that whatever she was going to tell me must be especially important.  This was so special.  How nice to be at the point of a relationship where you could speak honestly and openly with each other without worrying about hurting the other person's feelings.  

"Make sure you don't serve the coffee too early," "V" told me.  "You've been giving it to me too soon, and it's been cold."  OUCH!!!  That wasn't what I expected to hear at all!  And as if insult upon injury wasn't enough, "V" added, "I like my coffee hot!"

Was I hearing things correctly?  Maybe I was the one that needed the hearing aids!  Had "V" just told me in no uncertain terms that for ten months I've been serving her coffee too soon, and she'd been drinking it cold?  

Coffee in Bloom

After my initial shock at hearing the painful truth wore off, I thought that I must be the worst Caregiver in the whole world!  Here I was, eagerly trying to meet all of "V"s needs so that she could lead a comfortable, content life in her own home, and I had been starting off her day with cold coffee!!!  For almost a year!!!  Instead of shouting out the door, I wanted to crawl under the bed and hide so that no one would know what a HORRIBLE Caregiver I had been!

I helped "V" to the dining room table and began to get breakfast ready, overly conscientious about when to serve the coffee.  Should I serve it with the orange juice, so that all the beverages were on the table at once?  Perhaps I should put it out with the oatmeal, so that the two hottest things would be ready at one time.  Or maybe it should come out later, with the buttered toast?  Or maybe even after all the food was finished, so it could be savored by itself, nice and hot, the way "V" liked it?

What a dilemma!  I didn't know what to do with the darned coffee!  I just wanted "V" to have it the way she liked it... hot!!!

It was time for a deep breath and another recitation of the phrase "How Important Is It?"  I was dealing with a three quarters of a cup of coffee, not a high clearance top security government crisis!!!

Finally, rationality set in, and I realized how much courage it must have taken "V" to start speaking to me honestly about what she wants and doesn't want.  Here is a woman who has spent ninety-six years being courteous, considerate and catering to other peoples' needs.   A dutiful daughter.  A loyal and loving wife.  A devoted mother.  A reliable sibling.  A faithful friend.  A there-when-you-need-her grandmother.  And great-grandmother!

It suddenly dawned on me that "V" didn't want to hurt my feelings any more than I wanted to not satisfy her needs. 

For months, we had been dancing around each other, like people in a new relationship exchanging all the proper niceties.  A delicate balancing act.  Carefully trying to get to know the other person's needs and wants so that they could be properly met.  And even more carefully trying to avoid saying or doing the wrong thing so as not to offend the other person in any way.  Because you want the relationship to work!  To be successful and fulfilling and comfortable and even fun!  Just like a romantic relationship.  Or a friendship.  Or any other kind of relationship a person may find themselves involved in!  So that the other person trusts you enough to be able to speak openly and honestly with you, without fear of damaging the relationship in any way.

With Caregiving, it is definitely a delicate balancing act!  The entire relationship is contingent upon the ability of the person being cared for to speak honestly with the person who is caring for them... even if it means hurting the Caregiver's feelings a little bit.

Because after all, how important is it?  No relationship is worth giving up on just because one of the parties doesn't want cheese anymore, or because the coffee isn't hot enough.

"V" and I are now at a very healthy point in our relationship, and I look forward to it continuing to bud, blossom, grow and thrive!!!

FULL BLOOM!!!

 

Happy Mother's Day - Flowers and an Arbor

I sincerely apologize for the gap between my last blog and this one.  I have seen "V" weekly since I last wrote, and certainly there were plenty of things I could have written about. 

Yet for some reason, I simply could not gather up the energy to share them with you.

Perhaps it was the car accident.  Although I have been able to get to "V"s house with another vehicle, something about totaling the little blue Honda Fit that "M" so loved really shook me up inside.  Plus,  a few weeks ago was "M"s birthday, and I have yet to honor it in any way.  I wanted to take a ride in a small plane, just to know how it feels like to soar through the clouds... and, just maybe, get a tiny taste of what "M" must have experienced every time she flew.   

Of course, I can still do that, regardless of what day it is!  The memory will still be the same.

A week after "M"s birthday was Mother's Day, and I can't recall ever having been filled with as much conflicting emotion as I have on this most recent occasion.  

Here in the United States, we commemorate the holiday every year, and it is usually a joyous event.  Even for those who have lost their Mothers, Grandmothers, Aunts, Sisters, anyone in their lives who felt like a Mother in some way, it is still a time to celebrate their loved one's spirit.

I was lucky enough to start of my Mother's Day this year in "V"s company.  And even though I may have been in a funk, she was far from it!

Earlier in the week, she had received an extremely large potted arrangements of colorful, outdoor flowers.  I was lucky enough to be at her house when they arrived, and we both just stared at them in shock as the poor delivery man stood at the door waiting for me to tell him where to put the quite heavy package. 

"The deck!" we both announced at the same time.  "Just put them on the deck!"

After giving the young man our sincerest "thank you's", "V" and I agreed upon putting the potted plants in a place where she could see them during each and every meal from her dining room chair.  

At first, however, we disagreed.

"They always go over in the front corner," "V" told me pointing to an area of the porch where she was unable to see them from inside the house, but visitors walking up the ramp to the front door would undoubtedly spot them right away.  

I understood her desire to have the flowers viewed by guests.  They were, and still are, absolutely gorgeous!  But since the flowers were from "V"s oldest son who was not able to visit her this Mother's Day, I figured "V" would like to look at them as much as she could, and suggested a spot that was visible from eating area.  That way, at least three times a day, she could spend a few hours seeing their beauty.

I understood "V"s statement a little better when she told me quite clearly that she would rather see her son than the flowers.  Wow!  Her viewpoint became painfully clear to me, especially coming from a ninety-six year old with a son in his seventies! 

I only have one son, and he is sixteen.  I knew I would be seeing him later in the day, because he had spent the weekend with my Mother and Sister, and I planned to pick him up from their home later in the afternoon, thereby seeing all of my family in one shot!

I thought about how I would feel if I could not see him for some reason.  What if he was in California with his Dad?  Or suppose my accident had been more serious, and I wasn't able to see him because I was... I shudder at the possibilities...

Ultimately, after discussing our feelings about being unable to see certain loved ones on significant holidays, "V" allowed me to move the pot (and let me tell you, I could really empathize with the delivery boy now - that pot was HEAVY!!!).  I placed it front and center on the deck, where "V" and any guest who sat in her lovely, bright (even on a cloudy day) dining room could see the beautiful arrangement.

We had been doing that a lot lately, "V" and I.  Discussing our feelings about certain things that were bothering us.  Kind of like group therapy for two.  She knew about my Dad's loss, as I had been away from her for a week prior to his passing.  And "M"s.  And the little blue Honda Fit.  And I knew about the many losses she had experienced during her long life-time, including her husband, three brothers and a sister, a list of close friends longer than I could possibly imagine...

Yes.  "V" had endured her share of losses.

And yet here she was, very much looking forward to going out to dinner with her younger son and his wife, along with her best friend and her family.   Instead of talking about those people who weren't in her life at the moment, "V" conversation celebrated the people who were!  

In fact, just the day before, her granddaughter had stopped by unexpectedly with two of her great-grandsons to wish their Grandma a happy Mother's Day and drop off a hanging plant (which was MUCH easier to place than the pot!).  I had never met the granddaughter or the boys before, but I saw their photos and heard about their activities every week.  "V"s granddaughter and the boys were exactly as I pictured them!  More importantly, they were very happy to see their Grandma, excitedly telling them of their recent academic and sporting achievements, among other things.  I got the sense that they were an integral part of her life, even when she didn't see them, and it was a wonderful feeling indeed.  I wondered how many people in our lives that we see more often did not have play such an integral role.  Note to self!!!  Appreciate those who are around you at the present time much, much, MUCH, MUCH more!!!

I was happy for "V" on this beautiful Mother's Day.  The weather was finally warm, the flowers at last in bloom following a horribly cold winter, and the birds, along with all the other animals who had survived the arctic chill, were happily finding food.  In fact, one of "V"s other companions had already hung up her hummingbird feeder, and the little winged creatures were joyously alive and well!  By the way, the feeder was a BIG consideration in deciding where to put the GIANT pot of plants from "V"s oldest son.  She did NOT want to distract the hummingbirds from their feast with the colorful array of perennials, so I took care to place it far enough away so that they could concentrate more clearly on their sugar water.  Gotta love those hummingbirds!

I wasn't with "V" when she went out to dinner with her younger son, his wife, and her friend's family, but I was able to participate in the conversation about what she intended to wear.  

Recently, "V" had ordered three new pairs of pants and three new blouses from a catalog that she receives regularly.  Although the items were all plain if designs and decorations, they were absolutely NOT plain in color.  Lavender ("V"s favorite), peach, and a bright green that would have those hummingbirds ditching their food dish for sure in favor of "V"s outfit.  

At the time I left "V"s house, the plan, not surprisingly, was to wear her favorite color, the lavender.  However, the next time I saw "V", I learned that she had gone with the peach outfit instead.  Good for her, reaching out and embracing change!  I needed to start doing more of that in MY life!

I also learned (and witnessed in the form of a variety of leftovers squeezed into the fridge) that dinner had been fabulous, topped off by a face-time chat with not only her oldest son, but also "V"s youngest great-grandson, a ten-month old who resided in Canada.  Not only that, but "V"s grandson was arranging a trip for the beautiful baby to come see his cousins, Aunts, Uncles, Grandparents, and Great-Grandma "V" within the next few months.  I don't care WHAT is on my schedule that day, I must be there when "V" meets the baby in person.  From the number of times I've seen them "talk" to each other on the I-Pad, I am quite certain that there will definitely be some recognition already established,  Could "V" even have imagined such a thing eight decades ago?  

Later that same day, I drove down to my old home town, where my Mother resides with my Sister and her two children.   That's where my son was, having spent the weekend with his Grandmother, Aunt and Cousins.   

Funny thing, my Mother said the same thing about seeing my son as "V" did about seeing hers.  It was a much better gift to see him in person.  I would imagine that many Mothers everywhere feel exactly the same way.

In fact, my son had done something very special for his Grandma that weekend.  He, along with his cousins, had helped put together an Arbor for my Mother, and the three did a wonderful job!  My Mom had purchased the Arbor with the intention of it being placed at the top of the old cement steps that led from our lower yard to the upper yard, right where she could see it from her kitchen window.  Just like "V" could see her flowers from her dining room table.  And not so ironically, where I could now watch my own flowers bloom through the window above my laptop, where I am writing this blog entry at this very moment. 

I guess sometimes it's alright to alter traditions, like how you spend a certain holiday, and who you spend it with, but to nevertheless try and keep the tradition as firmly rooted as possible.

Just like the flowers that, no matter how wearying the Winter, always manage to pop their beautiful heads through the soil every single Spring.

Somehow, even in what may seem the bleakest of circumstances, life triumphantly prevails.

Be It Ever So Humble... My Own Backyard