memories

Dad’s Lesson

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Daily writing prompt
Describe a decision you made in the past that helped you learn or grow.
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Many years ago I had the privilege of working with my father at a company that manufactured machine tools. Dad and I worked very little together but on one project we found ourselves in many design meetings essentially working for a guy Dad did not particularly like. I could tell that by how my father held himself occasionally while in the meeting this gentleman was talking about various ideas. When I asked my father about it he said that you always have to listen to the other guy even if you think he is a jerk because it is possible that he might have a good idea.

That thought has helped me through many uncomfortable conversations where I might have rejected the other’s opinion or thought simply out of hand because he rubbed me the wrong way.

I could have rejected my Dad’s lesson but I decided to keep it for my own.

Easter

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Yesterday (a few days ago actually) was Easter Sunday. Like many families we gathered to celebrate it and simply be together.

Grandpa made a ham and all the kids showed up with food and drinks to provide sustenance.

All of the grandchildren, save one, are teenagers or older anxious to get onto their lives. As I looked around the room and watched Cheryl light up and become mom for awhile I wondered who they would all turn out to be.

The oldest soon to be graduated from the university will remain in the same city. After having accepted a position with a business consulting firm there, apartment hunting is the main concern. Frugality seems the overriding criteria although location is also important. There is a gap between starting the new job and commencement at the university so there is time for vacation with family and trips with friends before starting the new career. This time of life is exciting. It was for me. I can understand a little about how this grandchild is feeling. She was such a cute little one growing up. We have many great memories of her. I pray she will do well in life.

Her younger brother is in his first year of university. It is the transition year. He is looking for himself. He is attending classes at the same school that I was graduated from 50 years ago. The fact that he is attending my old school probably influences how I think about him. He will do fine in life if he becomes aware of other’s needs. He is attentive to his grandmother. I remind him when I get the chance to take classes in topics that he may be interested in. He is actually a pretty good family storyteller. He found some old videos from his family’s younger years and strung them together in a competent narrative. I suggested journalism might help with his nascent storytelling talent.

Behind him in age is a younger sister who after becoming an early reader and chocoholic like me, flashed by him in high school math classes. She ran through the math available at her high school and takes college level classes. She has learned to fly and is interested in attending the Air Force Academy in Colorado. Her mother wants her to have a backup plan if she does not get into the academy but I think her heart is set on Colorado. She is so young. Her entire life stretching before her. She is a wonderful dancer and a part of her high school’s competition dance team. She will accomplish her goals.

The baby sister in that same family is clever and crafty. She is a child that has been and is always interested in many things both arts and crafts. She has her own workroom in the basement of their house were she can pursue her interests without disturbance. She plays in her high school band and seems to love it. Just a few months from driving age and the freedom that driving yourself to activities and friend’s houses, she too has limitless horizons in front of her.

Her cousin is an avid swimmer and swims with his high school swim team. He is ahead of his younger sibling by eleven years in life. Their relationship is special. At grandma’s house he often sits quietly somewhere with his earbuds in, futzing with some game on his phone. Like many kids his age (and his Dad) he is an avid gamer. He does not isolate himself though, if you address him directly he responds. He has a couple more years until he needs to think about university or other. I hope he gets his driving license soon. I could hire him to take me places. He is a good student and will do well.

His tiny brother is eleven solar circuits behind him. His happy face lights up the room and makes my heart smile. Grandma got down on the floor to help with the marble track. Oh, to be young again.

Another grandson and the oldest of his family group is still searching for himself. He has come to the conclusion that driving pizzas for a living, although okay for now, is not a career goal. He is a wonderful photographer with a high skill for composition that I think he should pursue. But I am grandpa. I am not a counselor. He is still searching for his dream.

The only one of the grandchildren missing is his sister. She graduates from high school next month and has her sights set on a university in southern Ohio. She is president of her high school class, an avid volleyball player and has her sights set on bigger things. She will do well in life.

It was a wonderful visit and I hope a good time was had by all.

There is a sameness to our daily life with this disappointing disease of Sam Parkinson. On many of these days I am saddened by the fact that he described it but was unable to say, “Aha! Here is a cure.” Early on few have been able to describe all of the other features of the disease. From my perspective, preparation is a big part of success in future endeavors. All of these kids I have described know this. Some learned it early, some learned it later but all of them recognize preparation is important. I want to be prepared for what the future brings Cheryl and me. So many aspects of Parkinson disease are unknown. Every day is new. Every day is the same. Easter, however, was special. Most were here.

Carpe (lamenting the future) Diem.

Sometimes In The Evening

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Late in the evening when I am able to sit quietly and think about where we are with this parkinson thing I start to realize how it is affecting me. I ponder and think about how it is affecting her. Self -doubt pursues me everywhere.

As Cheryl’s confusion and memory lost develop into her dementia, I wonder if she is aware of her disability. I wonder if she knows about what is going on around her. I wonder is if she is scared. I know it scares me. She has always been self reliant. She often resists help. She makes me feel intrusive and yet I know her mind is awash in confusion. (Do I actually know that? Is that a misconception?)

Yesterday we had lunch with our daughter and talked about their family’s planned trip to Florida. We talked about the logistics of getting six differing schedules aligned for a family vacation. I thought it might be nice to go to there with them. I held Cheryl’s hand and asked her if she would like to do that. She was reluctant but interested in visiting with other family. (If we went along would we be a burden to Anna’s family and their time off vacationing together?)

My daughter pointed out to me that I keep track of Cheryl’s health like a hawk. She asked if I was keeping track of my own health. I think I am. But when I drift into deep discernment, meditation, prayer and thought, I am unsure. I think back to times when Cheryl and I went off together somewhere sometimes for a week or so, sometimes with friends we met up with, sometimes for a weekend alone with just us to entertain each other. Once Cheryl planned a special surprise for my birthday, all the kids and grandkids showed up – it was a well kept secret. These are all wonderful memories and it makes me long for those times. I makes me attracted to the idea of vacationing.

I think Anna was trying to tell me that a vacation would be good. I agree with that thought and in this part of my life and our marriage it would be useful if I was able to get away from the day to day care for Cheryl. Maybe it is time to give that away and return to simply being a husband.

A vacation from caring seems attractive.

As I write this and think about that aspect it lifts my heart. Worry and anxiety are easier to bear if there is occasional relief. I think I need to work on that sort of relief.

It is late in the morning now and she is gently snoring in the bedroom. This is one of those days when the day just seems to be slipping away. I begin to worry that she may not sleep tonight. I wonder how a professional caregiver would respond. I talked to her earlier when I put her meds in the bathroom for later. As I sat on the edge of the bed and comforted her a bit she fell asleep, so, I got up and left her to rest some more.

I am not surprised that she is sleeping late. Although she did not disturb me overnight I think she slept fitfully. I slept my normal get up to go to the bathroom every 2-3 hours. Occasionally she was whispering a list of people out loud as she thought through the planning of a family reunion style gathering that our sister-in-law has taken over but Cheryl cannot let go of in her mind. No amount of “Tari is handling that” relieves her from thinking about logistics. I often hope that Tari will spontaneously call and talk about it but I recognize that she probably will not. (I sent her a text message and requested her to call Cheryl. I will wait and see if she does.)

I mentioned – return to simply being a husband. I big part of that idea is not doing Cheryl’s things for her.

Many things wander through my thoughts as I checked on Cheryl again and got cleaned up, brushed my teeth (now the coffee tastes funny) and put on clothes for the day. I can hear my mother’s voice as she told me years ago, “I do some of my best sleeping in the morning.” When Mom was still alive if I visited her before noon, she might be just barely awake. Once or twice I made her breakfast and sat with her for awhile. I start seeing that happen with my wife. (I suppose I do not want that for us. I want us to be young and vibrant or, at least, think we are.)

I know that she wants to go to church services tonight. It is just before Easter. Easter is a big deal for Cheryl. She has been talking about coloring eggs for several weeks. I have extra eggs in case I cannot get out of doing that. It is getting late, so, as a husband I will get her up and listen to the complaint while I do that.

She is up now at 11 AM. I made her favorite breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon with grape jelly toast. She told me that after she was done with breakfast she wanted to lie down again.

Carpe Diem.

Like a Bunch of Random Boulders

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What Rose Forgot is a novel by Nevada Barr. Rose, the main character, is struggling with mental illness and memory loss brought on by some unseemly characters in her family. Her granddaughter helps her through the dilemma that she finds herself in. But one line early in the novel stuck out – memories fell into her head like random boulders from a bucket high up all jumbled with no relationship to each other.

Cheryl’s conversation, especially in the evening, is much like that. Kathy came to visit her today and I noticed that her conversation and memories are like that during the day also. Kathy ignored any incongruities if she knew they where there. Had I been sitting near Cheryl I would have had to correct her memory of people and events. It is really, really difficult for me to not jump in to the conversation to fix things.

But I am getting better at it.

I am not certain that I got the quote right but the image is there. Random chunks of memory come into Cheryl’s head. It makes me sad. Sometimes she realizes that this is happening.

Tonight when we came back from getting ice cream at our favorite ice cream store, she went off looking for her Mom in our condo. I did not stop her or correct her impression. And, to her, perhaps, Elaine was there.

I am in pursuit of her calmness of mind. And I admit it makes me anxious.

Carpe Diem

Monday, Bloody Monday

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I hate Mondays. Mom told me this late in her life. I asked her why? I pointed out that she had not worked for decades. I don’t like Monday was her response.

Parkies can be grumpy on Monday too.  Cheryl is not typically. I guess I am a bit because I did not sleep as well as I wanted.  My bladder got me up at 4am and itchy legs kept me up for awhile.

I finished the wordle and went back to bed about 5am. The sun was up when I awoke again at 8. Cheryl was awake also so I made coffee and went retrieve the garbage can and the newspapers.

Except for the fact that I am retired and Cheryl has Parkinson’s disease and does not move well. A regular day. Ho Hum

Carpe Monday Diem

A New Idea – Restaurant(ing)

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A week and a half ago we stopped at an old Dixie Highway landmark called the Greyhound Tavern. We had passed it several times going to and fro when visiting her cousin Gerry in hospice. On our way home from our last visit with Gerry we stopped there at about prime gray hair eating time.

The reason was made up but we had a good time. Sherri had asked in conversation whether I thought the fried chicken at Greyhound Tavern was as good or better than the Purple Poulet where we had eaten a few weeks before. Well, everyone has their own personal likes and dislikes about comfort food. Cheryl’s mother made fried chicken and we ate it cold on a picnic in June in 1969. It was delightful. My aunt Johanna made fried chicken along with a lot of other stuff for Sunday dinner at her farm in Indiana. It was delightful. Long ago we had the KFC’s original recipe at the first place that Colonel Harland David Sanders opened in Corbin Kentucky. It has a little museum attached. It was delightful. (I have always liked original recipe.) But while I thought that the fried chicken at Greyhound was good, the chicken at the Purple Poulet was excellent.

While we were awaiting the arrival of our meal, we split the chicken since neither of us can eat half a chicken anymore, Cheryl said that we could visit various restaurants in Cincinnati and the surrounding area and eat lunch there. This is an excellent idea I replied. Let’s do it.

Today we did. Today’s choice was the Sweet Heart Cafe in Colerain township. We have been there before but it has been a year or so. There are actually about three stores operating out of this store front – a bakery, a cafe/diner, a clothing shop. It has a very unique ambiance and they make their own jams and preserves.

We brought home pie for dessert tonight or maybe the whole dinner.

A good list to start with.

Carpe – the diner – Diem.

Hospice

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A Hospice center is a quiet, peaceful and sad place.

The old meaning of a place of rest for travelers is an appropriate one. It is a place of rest between here and the after.

Cheryl and I have been visiting Fr. Gerry Witzemann.  He is dying. Gerry married us years ago or as Cheryl likes to say, officiated at our wedding. Her comment is more correct of course. Cheryl’s cousin started out as a Franciscan priest. When his mother became ill and elderly her wanted to do more for her. His order wanted him to go to the southwest to minister. He left the Franciscans to remain in the area and help his mother as best he could.

This is our fourth visit. Gerry is not ready. On our first visit he indicated that he was ready. Are any of us ready for afterward? Sitting with someone that you know will not recover turns one to introspection.

Soon and very soon…

Today his niece Sherri is here. Cheryl can talk to her cousin about things that she knows little about.  That part of her family lived close by when she was a child.  But as people grow older they spread out. Sherri’s mother Verna, Gerry’s sister passed away a couple weeks ago. Sherri took care of her mother for the last three years of her life, at home, with dementia. What a grace filled presence. She once got up to talk to her uncle, “It’s okay Uncle Gerry. Mom is waiting for you. So is grandma and grandpa.”

Sheri was in the army. She was a nurse and a nursing supervisor. She is a very pleasant conversationalist. Her husband passed away in 1993. They have no children. As a reservist she was called up and spent a year in Iraq in charge of the nursing staff in the hospital set up by the army. Gerry was the Witzemann family archivist. It was his hobby for years. He has lots of notes about the family history. Sherri now has his information.

We exchanged phone numbers.

Gerry won’t be with us much longer and that is sad. Many folks who come to visit him and he has many, are uncomfortable. That is understandable – and sad. Somehow it was neither sad nor uncomfortable with Sherri there. We were just there with Gerry.

Soon Gerry will be gone from us.That is why he is with hospice.

(Fr. Gerry Witzemann passed out of this existence at 5:30 am February 5, 2023. A Sunday the Lord’s day. How appropriate. May he rest in peace forever.)

Carpe Diem

Children are a Joy

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Even at somber occasions like funerals kids are a joy to the heart.

Verna’s funeral was today. (Cheryl’s cousin) Visitation was in church before the mass. Children playing hide and seek before mass in amongst the pews seems irreverent to many adults but not to me. The joy in their hearts shouldn’t be squashed or demeaned in any way. Some were wearing kitty ears. Some were wearing pigtails. All were dressed in their Sunday best because they were going to great Grandma’s funeral.

Funerals can be sad but not with kids around. One little guy spotted his Nana. He went to visit and scored a bag of fruit snacks. Nana is good for a treat. The same little guy needed the restroom in the middle of mass and upon the return decided to get back as fast as he could to Daddy. His father smiled and laughed with him when he returned. (Mom was more somber.)

Roman Catholic funeral mass liturgy is full of hope. There is a format but less ritual. The opening hymn was “Morning has Broken“. It is a good one full of hope and cheeriness. I always will hear Cat Stevens’ (Yusaf Islam) beautiful rendition of it in my head and because I like his music, the music of my youth, I know all the words.

Verna’s son, in his eulogy remarks, commented that someone had told him that he was now an orphan. I suppose one could say that since both of his parents had passed from this life but looking around the church full of family, children, grandchildren and friends, it seemed a poor term to describe this part of his journey through life.

Cheryl found and met with a couple cousins she had not seen for years.

She is making the snicker-doodles we started last night.

Carpe Diem.

A Great Time

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We went out with friends to a new restaurant. We had to be seated on the second floor. There was a ladies room on the second floor.

What a relief it was to us both.

Not the most appropriate opening to a story about going out to dinner with friends but parkinson makes the very small things in life into major obstacles. Those need not be obstacles but they can win out in the “Is it hard? v. Is it easy?” tug-of-war that enters the discussion whenever any social activity happens.

I have written about women’s restrooms and some of those experiences. This is not a blog post about that. This is a story about how truly graceful are friends that Cheryl and I have in our life and have had for half a century. It starts with an email from Jan in early December proposing that we gather for dinner somewhere for our annual holiday gathering. Cheryl used to refer to this group as the defunct bridge group because although we used to play bridge at our gatherings, over time we simply gathered for a meal and socialization.

Jan suggested a few dates in January and suggested collecting at her house or a restaurant somewhere. I immediately voted for a restaurant somewhere for two reasons; it puts the eventual clean-up in someone else’s bailiwick, it gets Cheryl into a social situation were she does not believe she is a burden to anyone. (Grace on Cheryl’s part, she does not want to be a burden.) And besides, Gary and Jan go to restaurants that we might never pick just because of unfamiliarity. She picked the Purple Poulet in Newport Kentucky.

In a later email after Jan had confirmed the reservation, she wrote that we would be seated upstairs and asked if that would be a problem to anyone (grace – Jan did not single us out). I did not respond to her email because upstairs by itself is unimportant. It does tell me what equipment I might need. It also tells me that I need to call the restaurant to understand restroom facilities which I did not do. (no grace for me) Somehow with our narrow life activities, I never got around to calling the Purple Poulet and asking about ladies restrooms. I am not shy about that idea merely incompetent in this instance.

Yesterday was January 20th, the day that had been previously selected for our dinner gathering. Sherry called to ask if we would like to come to her house late in the afternoon for a drink and we would leave from her house to go to the restaurant which was a thirty minute drive through the center of town. (Grace on Sherry’s part for offering extra time to socialize and catch up.) Sherry has a sister who also has parkinson as a part of her life. Her sister is living in an institutionalized setting but Sherry spends a good amount of her time there. Cheryl is comfortable in conversation with Sherry and Sherry understands Cheryl’s difficulty with mobility and mental agility.

After I accepted Sherry’s invitation, we discussed restaurant steps, parking arrangements and restrooms facilities and, oh bye the way, if steps and restrooms were a problem, why did I not speak up? (She left out – you fool!) Sherry is too polite for that last part. She did start dialing the phone. Pretty soon it was all settled. We would meet at her house and ride to the restaurant in Gary’s GMC Acadia. (Grace to Gary and Sherry.) Sherry suggested that if the Ladies was downstairs which was my fear, we would just deal with it at arrival. (More grace to Sherry – her words – I’ll just tell Cheryl I have to go and we’ll go together when we get there.)

I managed to get Cheryl to Sherry’s house before everyone so that I could put our car deep into her driveway and out of the way. I was successful and the evening was all set. Denny and Katy arrived a few minutes after us. Gary and Jan arrived shortly thereafter. Sherry had drinks and snacks. For an hour or so we were surrounded by just friends not Parkinson. What a relief it was to us both.

It is not often that we acknowledge the kindness and graciousness in our life. There is no excuse for that. Many explanations but no excuse. This group of friends surrounded us with love and kindness and helpfulness and grace. For a few hours we, Cheryl and I, could just be. (Thank you, all.)

About the Purple Poulet; I linked their website to the first mention of them above. For me at least and I think Cheryl would agree it was a great dining experience. The restroom on the second floor was marked Ladies on the door near our table but was in fact a well appointed handicapped restroom. I have been in many. I know.

The steps turned twice and had handrails on both sides. If there is no elevator the next best thing is handrails on both side of the steps and a gentle slope to the stairway. Up is never a problem for Cheryl. Down, however, is a perceptual problem as well as a physical one. A short gentle run of steps is much less intimidating than a long or steep straight run. (grace to the stairway designer.) I have not gone down a set of steps with Cheryl forward for many years. (Sherry managed the walker while I was helping Cheryl manage the steps down – grace to Sherry.)

We both had their chicken. On their website they claim “The Best Fried Chicken by Southern Living” – It was the best fried chicken I have had in quite awhile.

This morning Cheryl is still sleeping. I am not but I should have skipped that second glass of Robt. Mondavi that I allowed myself because I was not driving to and from the restaurant. (no grace to me – grace to Gary for driving)

Carpe – the best fried chicken – Diem.

And surrounded by grace is another reason to stay connected.

Grace to you, Denny, Katy, Jan, Sherry and Gary for letting us simply be us.