Happyness

She’s Done it to Me

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She did it again this morning. At least that is what I thought when I found most of my ingredients out to remind myself what I intended to do today.

A couple years ago, when Cheryl was struggling physically more with Parkinson and her struggle with the dementia aspects of it was taking away her ability to follow simple directions, she coerced (maybe too strong of a word) me into helping her make cookies. I did not want to do it at the time.

Once or twice these were Snickerdoodles. And a couple other times we made chocolate chip cookies, the recipe is on the two pound bag of Nestle’s morsels. “You have to get the yellow bag!” she said to me once when I when I returned from the store by myself in the midst of the COVID pandemonium and price-shopped for supplies. “Those won’t work.” I was disheartened. I had purchased the store brand of chocolate chips. I argued my case for twenty-two milliseconds before realizing that there was no point in contesting the issue further. I returned to the store for the correct chips (“Morsels! It will say morsels on the bag. The bag is yellow.” She spoke to my back as I left.)

I can hear her voice. Little stories like this help me to recall her voice.

Yesterday, because I could avoid it no longer, I went to the grocery to restore my larder to its previous vigor. At the beginning my list had only two things, dried cranberries and raisins. Both of these I add to overnight oats which has become a new favorite breakfast treat. I have a pint Ball jar that is just the right size to contain a half cup of rolled oats, a cup of milk and whatever else I put in with those usually raisins or craisins some honey and chia seeds to set in the fridge overnight. I have also added at times cocoa powder, cinnamon, cardamon, vanilla or tahinni and used brown sugar instead of honey. This mixture goes well with my assembly of the coffee in the evening as well as drinking the coffee in the morning.

While putting all away I discovered that the bag of dried cranberries that I purchased would not fit into my quart jar I use to save dried fruit. Alas, some remained in the ziploc bag that only zips most of the time. I left them on the counter to become a healthy evening snack near the apples and bananas.

After preparing some lunch I hunted for some sweetness to satisfy my heritage and hit upon spreading the Nutella look-alike I purchased at Aldi sometime in the past on a saltine cracker and sprinkling cranberries on top. That tuned out pretty good. (If you are not a believer, try it.) I realized that I was inventing a variety of cookie – biscuit or digestive to the Brits out there – and heard Cheryl say, “You could try making a chocolate cookie with stuff in it.” I blame Cheryl when I hear these inventive thoughts about cooking. She was not very inventive with ingredients but very inventive with technique.

I launched myself into search for a basic chocolate cookie that I could modify with extra ingredients. Below is the final product:

  • 2 C. all purpose flour
  • 2/3 C. powdered cocoa
  • 1 tsp. baking soda
  • ¼ tsp. salt
  • 1 ½ C. white sugar
  • 1 C. unsalted butter
  • 2 large eggs
  • 2 tsp. vanilla extract
  • 1 C. chocolate morsels (in the yellow bag)
  • 1 C. dried cranberries
  • ½ C. smashed walnuts (crushed in the bag but I smash them further)

I creamed the butter, eggs, vanilla and sugar for a bit. Whisked the flour, salt, soda and cocoa together in a separate bowl dry and then dumped them into my mixer. (I bought a new mixer recently. It has extra paddles.) After a bit of mixing I tried out my folding paddle and dumped in the rest of the ingredients.

Bake in a 350F (177C) – medium oven 8 to 10 minutes. This lump of cookie dough makes about 4 dozen if you use a teaspoon from your table wear set to scoop and spoon some on to UN-greased cookie sheets like I did. (My mind always wants to grease the cookie sheet and Cheryl always tells me, “No!”)

After 8 minutes on the timer, I rotated the cookie sheets in the oven and added 4 minutes to the time. This worked for me because I dislike (maybe hate) chewy soft cookies. There is something special about just the right crunch that makes me smile.

Cheryl! You turned me into a cookie recipe experimenter. It is all your fault. (Dammit.) I love you and you are right. These are good. The tricky part will be spreading them out in my eating habits. I have eaten three while writing this story. They go well with coffee.

In future experiments I may try crushed peanuts and raisins. GORP cookies sounds good to me.

I wonder which wine pairs well. Pinot Noir? Chardonnay?

A conundrum. There was a big one there in the gap. It was begging to be eaten before I took this picture and I obliged.

Carpe Diem. (life is better with cookies and chocolate)

Autumn Haiku and Inner Thought

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friday comes with cool
sun peeks higher in the sky
autumn is awake

she speaks in my head
often with her quiet voice
our love continues

this day Cheryl is
this day memories of us
happy memories

Haiku form – 5 : 7 : 5 – is a favorite poetic form to me. Real poets, I do not consider myself a real poet, are able to paint a picture, elicit an emotion or start a meditation with seventeen syllables. Distilling feelings and ideas to their basic form. I have noticed in myself that many times words do not work. The search for a word with the perfect nuance of what I feel alludes me often. Perfection at reading what is not there is not my strongest ability.

And yet, funneling feelings into seventeen sounds is sometimes satisfying.

Meditation (I use that word instead of prayer) comes in many forms to me. Today it is distillation of thought into seventeen bits of non-prattle.

abracadabra
in mind appears some pictures
our happier times

grieve companion lost
happy memories abound
love is present, found

Thinking about Cheryl today as I write about our life with its past joys and wonderful trips and the sadness and struggles near the end has pushed me into haiku today. Waiting to see what the rest of the day brings and the realization that existence takes care of itself without my help is comforting.

Is that prayer?

Carpe Diem.

What a Days I Have Been In.

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Yesterday we tripped to a couple wineries to enjoy a bottle and some snacks. Today we saw waterfalls.

Don’t go chasing waterfalls, please stick to the rivers and the lakes that you are used to. I know that you want to have it your way or nothing at all but you are moving too fast. – TLC

This song often pops up in my head. It has a good cadence for bike riding and as a result it is on my playlist from Spotify. It has a metaphorical meaning that I interpret as look around and understand where you are before you dash off looking for something better. Another phrase is – the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. Maybe it is maybe it is not. I suppose that we always want the thing that we do not have. We want what the other guy has rather than merely celebrating with him that he has it and enjoying what we have.

When I would take mom to dinner at a restaurant which has not happened for some time, she would ask me what I was having. This a different form of the same thing. Why would Mom want to be interested in what I was about to order from the menu if she did not believe in some way that it was going to be better than what she was intending to select for herself? Is there something I am missing here? Once I protested telling her what I was thinking about having and made that argument to her. She responded with – I might want to change and get what you are getting. That is a reasonable response.(After we ordered and the food came, often she would take her fork and get a bite of my whatever it was. I loved Mom but that always annoyed me.)

We all have had experiences like this. We all have a fear of missing out (FOMO). We are not missing out on anything. We may be unsure of our decision but that specificity does not imply that the particular decision that we have made for ourselves is the wrong one. That cannot be known or understood until it has been executed. The decision may morph into a learning experience. That is a good thing.

These days as I wonder what purpose this portion of my life is for, thinking about and pondering big changes to my life, I look for the waterfalls.

In the background while I am doing the day-to-day activities of life, various chores, duties near to and necessary for the little part time job I have with a local community college, I think about making larger changes in my situation. Cheryl was all of my day before she moved to memory care. She was a huge part of my day when she moved and had full time care not from me. Now that she is gone there is a vast empty time.

I have thought about continuing with volunteer work or activities of some sort at the memory care facility where she had been. I just do not think I can do that. The memories are too raw. My heart sinks when I think about it. I feel that I am letting them (the patients there) down. I do not know where that feeling comes from within me.

For now, I have filled it partially with bike trips. These trips of 12 or 15 miles at a stretch let me get much needed exercise. They provide solace and distraction. It is easier to imagine the times when she was not sick.

This week I am filling my time with visiting with my sister. We have a commonality in that she became a widow a few months before I became a widower. We support each other in that respect. She was not expecting to lose her husband and I was not expecting to lose Cheryl. Even though it was right in front of me I refused to believe Cheryl would be gone. I have come to grips with that now. (I still do not like it but there it is.) I notice myself talking about Cheryl and trips we made. It is easier as time continues.

Where do I go from here? Should I look for a new waterfall? The pool below the fall is close to the ground but still agitated. Often the stream below is swift moving. When the water joins the river it is moving slower and calmer.

Carpe Diem.

Too Much Money

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Some have too much money. A few days ago I found myself reading an article in the Wall Street Journal about a couple who had bought a “four hundred year old fixer upper” for a trivial sum of seven million dollars. I initially thought “good for them” they have enough money that they are not concerned about the 7 mill cost and the place may need another couple of millions to rehab and get it livable. It is the American dream. Money is fungible. Why not funge some of it into a building assembled in 1600 and something, own a piece of history.

Some have too much money. Remember the story about the needle eye and the camel?

A few days ago I rode to a restaurant on the river  bank with  a group of my in-laws. The conversation wandered around all over as it often does when I am with Cheryl’s youngest brother and the boat owner. Somehow Melinda Gates and her leaving the management of the Gates Foundation popped out of the rabbit hole and Ken asked what I thought about other folks just giving their money away. We never finished that thought because the restaurant was near and the crew (me) was in experienced. However later as I drove home I thought I care little about what others do with their money. I do not envy them. They have to figure out how to get though the eye of the needle without stepping in the camel dung.

Some with too much money buy 400 year old fixer uppers. Some donate vast sums to political campaigns. Some travel to exotic places. Some buy yachts and sail to distant shores merely to enjoy the wine. Some buy lots of wine and keep it in the basement (cellar) to drink later if they live long enough and remember which basement stores it. Some give their money to foundations to support a cause that they believe in whatever project that is. Scrooge McDuck used to sleep with his if I remember the comic correctly. It matters not how they spent their money.

I only care about my money. My hope is that It will run out about the same time I do. So far that seems to be working out on its own. There is a story about that in the Bible too.

When Cheryl was still with me, I thought if I could buy a cure for her damnable disease it would be worth every penny of savings to do that.

Do I think there are better things to do with 7 million dollars than buy a 400 year old fixer upper? I do but it is not my money so what I think matters not. Godspeed to them, I say.

I do miss Cheryl though, and all the money in the world will not bring her back and make her healthy.

Carpe Diem.

I am Still Learning

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It is possible to keep learning as one ages. I have found over the past few years that as I learned prayerful and careful concepts by taking care of Cheryl, I learned much about myself and my own motivations and along with that my own emotions. Today a new inner desire, perhaps need, has come to me.

Two days ago I received a copy of my collage of photos that I had printed on glass. I remember sitting up late two weeks ago searching for online special printing folks. Cheryl was still alive then. Why it became urgent to get that made at 12:30 AM is not important now. At the time it was an urgency for me. The following Monday morning she was gone.

In anxiety about not having it in time I found Northside Printing a local specialty printing business that specializes in specialty printing. I took my collage to them to have it printed on a big format to display at Cheryl’s service on Monday.

The more that I look at this collection of smile photos, photos of good times and family, I notice that the image of her in ill health and death fades from my memory. It is still there but what I think of first is her wonderful smile. It lights up my heart and helps me move past the Parkinson and dementia.

Often when someone dies, close friends and relatives create a memorial shrine. They do this to help them with the loss. I did not understand the importance of this action when I would see flowers and a cross along side the road but many years ago I found myself near the site of the Oklahoma City bombing and a fence filled with small stuffed animals left as a memorial to all the children killed in that tragedy. It saddened me at the time.

This morning I found myself hunting for the perfect place to assemble my thinking space to remember the good times and Cheryl’s smile.

I have started to do this on the left mirror of her dresser. That is the spot she would often stand to brush and comb her hair. She would pick up her hair spray and shake it a little. That would be my cue to get out of the room so that I did not smell like hair spray. The last step was to spray a little Chantilly into the air and walk through it. My grand daughter Virginia now has the leftover Chantilly. Cheryl likes that fact. She just told me while I was typing this story.

Carpe Diem. And carpe all of the special moments in your life. Later you will savor them as I am now.

Godspeed Cheryl.

A Budding Scientist

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One of the hidden benefits of my sister-in-law’s retirement from her lifelong private babysitting business is the fact that Zane her grandson often comes to help his mom spruce up my condo. Zane came yesterday and brought his rock collection. He is so proud of it.

I have many magnification devices and he had none, so, I gave him one of mine so that he could further explore his collection and expand his knowledge of his world. I also gave him a special Rubbermaid rock case to house his collection. He seemed satisfied with both

I snapped a few photos of the future STEM student. I am hoping that Zane will come to help his mom often. And I hope he will keep up his interest in geology.

It is unlikely that his interest in rocks will last throughout his lifetime but it might. Maybe many years from now when I am gone he will remember the good time he had yesterday examining his collect with the special magnifying glass Uncle Paul gave him.

He has such a great smile.

Carpe Diem.

After the Eclipse

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Scott figured out the exposure controls on his phone and took this picture. All I got was a blob of white light. The corona is still quite bright and phones have poor optics.

Leading up to and leading away from the time of totality, the light takes on an odd quality. In much the same fashion as just after a fierce rain storm, a thunderstorm, the light is oddly yellowish. It is dimmer of course but it is diminished and yellowish.

After the eclipse, young people’s conversation was about other things in their lives. My thoughts were about what I had just witnessed. I think I was a little awestruck and underneath the complete shadow, I felt a little sad. The sadness passed quickly as the awe took over.

After the eclipse shadow passed over us the newly blooming tulips where opening back up. The plants had closed their eyes for the night when the moon blocked out the sun.

Sunlight was dim but getting brighter. Little half moons appeared where the sunlight filtered through the bushes nearby.

Mostly though my thoughts went to Cheryl. Cheryl was fascinated with astrological phenomena. I was saddened that I could not enjoy the spectacle with her. I spent some time thinking of her reaction and discussing what we saw. We talked at length about how magnificent the corona appeared once the moon completely shut off the rays of the sun. She noted that she felt chilly when the shadow of the moon was directly overhead. (I am glad she did not need me to get her jacket from the car.) I told her that I noticed that the wind had kicked up somewhat . I supposed because the air was cooler. Many but not all of the birds stopped chattering to each other. I asked her if she had noticed the eerie sunset like quality to the horizon in all directions. This was unexpected for me.

Perhaps this is a way to mentally deal with grief, just simply talk to her. Later when I go to find the northern lights she can see them with me.

Carpe Diem.

Sunday Awake Day

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My cheesy grin

Today is Sunday. When I was here earlier Cheryl was dozing. She had taken her meds earlier and ate a little breakfast. Often when I come over on Sunday afternoon she is alert and  active and talking to someone else who is invisible to me. This day is no exception.

She let me sit with her and hold her hands for a few minutes. Now she has rediscovered a knitted fidget that has beads, a pocket, a loop and buttons. Cheryl discovered this shortly after she moved to Bridgeway Pointe and it seems to keep her interest for long periods. She is struggling with the loop to hook it over the bead and button.

The loop is the most fascinating thing. She loves to loop it around her fingers.

I take every opportunity to hold her hand.

Carpe hand holding Diem.

Florida Again

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After a few months, I find myself in Florida again without Cheryl. In June of 2023 when Cheryl and I came to the Florida panhandle with Anna and her family it was fun and it was exhausting. This time Cheryl is not with me. This time Joyce is often driving and I am able to watch the scenery. This time is different.

Last summer may have been our last trip together. This trip is not the first one without her that I was not going to work but this trip feels different. I cannot put my finger on what is different. Is it because Cheryl is not with me and it is the nation’s designated vacation spot? Surely that’s not it. I am visiting family with family. Is it because I am not worried or concerned about her care? As I was visiting with my sister in the previous October? I am still analyzing those thoughts.

Judy’s pool view

This trip started as an invitation to participate in an informational weekend about  the activities supported by the Southern Poverty Law Center  founded years ago by Julian Bond et al.

The weekend’s events culminated in jubilee commemoration of Bloody Sunday 59 years ago on the march from Selma to Montgomery Alabama.

Edmund Pettus Bridge

My impression of Selma is that it is remarkably poor. This impression is supported by empty and boarded up storefronts and the slow or non-existent recovery from the tornado that passed through a couple years ago. Whatever the vision is in the leadership of the great State of Alabama may be for the future it seems to have left the the small village of Selma behind. It is a pretty area. The few pictures I took of the river area show this fact and Selma has a grand boulevard in the center of it. There is a Walmart Super Center less than two miles from the town center. Big box stores tend to kill off the core of little towns. It seems to be happening here.

The bridge crossing happened on Sunday and after we walked across the bridge and completed wading through the crowd on the other side taking selfies and deciding what to do next and generally recrossing the bridge on the sidewalks back to the carnival atmosphere a block off the side of the boulevard, we found our bus back to Montgomery. That evening we went to a nice local restaurant for dinner. Fifty-nine years ago many of those bridge crossing folks spent the night in jail or the hospital somewhere. It is quite a contrast, then and now, but the poverty is still there.

The next day we were off to Port St. Joe, Florida to visit with our nephew Mark and his wife Leslie. Their little vacation home in Port St. Joe is set up perfectly no TV, no WIFI,  just conversation. Port St. Joe is a sleepy little town with the distinctive title of original capital city of the State of Florida. Leslie grew up there. Mark and his family took us to a raw bar. I later found out this is another name for a sea food restaurant.

As I conversed with Mark it struck me that he is very much like his father, my brother. In addition to resembling his father physically, his mannerisms, his focus, his jesters, I felt like I was talking to a younger version of my brother. I have not seen Mark since Mom’s funeral and we did not talk at length at the funeral.

Cheryl came flooding back into my mind. I looked around and in my head she told me that if she could have been there she would have sat near Leslie and the kids to talk and catch up. Family and conversation is very important to her. Sitting with Mark, my sister Joyce and his family, I realized how much I was missing Cheryl. She would have enjoyed this trip very much. And the additional aspect of lived history would have had her telling about this trip over many dinner conversations into the future.

The next day we continued on to visit with Mark’s mother, my sister-in-law, Judy. My brother left this Earth in May of 2020. Sadly, because of the COVID travel restrictions, Cheryl’s inability to travel easily and other factors, we were unable to attend services for my brother Bill. Judy showed Joyce and me a wonderful memory book put together by the funeral services company as well as the program for Bill’s celebration of life. I picked up the book and looking through it had to catch myself as I wanted to turn and show it to Cheryl. (I was missing Cheryl again.)

This was perfect; family, history, hiking, a beach nearby, Judy’s beautiful house at the end.

When I got home in the early evening my son Scott picked me up at the airport. As we rode along my only thought was to drive over and visit Cheryl. She was in bed already so I kissed her goodnight and returned home to eat something and consider various aspects of the trip, my relationship to my own family and enjoy sleeping in my own bed.

Carpe the road trip Diem.

Ice Cream

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This morning my thoughts turned to ice cream. Cheryl and I often went out for ice cream in the evening. In two smaller suburbs there was a Dairy Queen in one – she likes Oreo Blizzards – and Aglemessis Bros. which is a small local ice cream and confectionery. She likes black raspberry chocolate chip.

There is a very good story about the second store. many years ago when Cheryl was still working one of her coworkers would have what she referred to as “Grandma’s Camp”. She invited the grandchildren to stay with her for a week in the summer individually so that she could get to know each child without the distraction of the others and the bigger family around that would be there during big family gatherings. Cheryl decided that this was a good, bordering on great idea.

Audrey, Anna’s third child, stayed with us during this episode of our life adventure when she was about seven years. I am unsure exactly how old she was but it suffices to say she was a young child. She was a very early reader which became apparent when I took her with me to visit my mother at the independent living situation she was staying in to help organize her meds for another week. Audrey read some of the names of the medications and was asking me what various ones were for. Mom took a bunch of stuff.

Afterward I took her to Aglemessis Bros. for ice cream. This store has an old fashioned soda fountain style counter in it that you can sit at and watch the folks (soda jerks) dish up the ice cream and sodas. We sat there. There is a big board on the wall listing all of the flavors and other less important information about price. There is also a menu of sundaes and other goodies in addition to a display case for various chocolate delights and chunky chocolate all sold buy the pound. It is a chocoholic addict’s downfall. Audrey looked up at the board and said to me, ” Grampaw, they have chocolate chocolate chip!” I responded yes they do and you can probably get hot fudge on top if you want that also. I did not know at the time that my granddaughter was a chocolate fan like me. (It makes me smile inside when I recall this experience.)

I think she got chocolate sauce on her two scoops of double chocolate chip ice cream as did I and we sat with satisfaction as we ate and watched the activity behind the counter. I suppose that is why I particularly enjoyed bringing Cheryl to the Aglemessis store. It always reminds me of this story. I think tomorrow perhaps I will see if I can bring Cheryl some black raspberry chocolate chip ice cream from there.

From a precocious, chocolate loving, early reading, intelligent young girl to a beautiful young woman, when I think of Cheryl and I going to Aglemessis Bros. for ice cream, I think of Audrey and chocolate chocolate chip.

Carpe Diem.