travel

Astoria column

The Left Coast Trip

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The Pacific and Oregon

I have been to visit my sister in Portland several times. It is always a relaxed visit for me. It seems a relaxed visit with Debbie this time.

Seeing and visiting with my sister in her own environment is always a treat. I learn new things about her and find out what a remarkable woman my sibling is.

The next door neighbor who is a single mom, and her daughter had traveled to Mexico to visit with the mom’s boyfriend’s family. For some unknown reason the daughter was flying home before mom and Joyce had volunteered to pick up the daughter at the airport and give her a ride to her home next door. There was a small delay and some excitement at the international part of the airport apparatus as mom had given the 14 year old daughter a bottle of tequila to transport home.

At the custom’s desk the question of – anything to declare? – was met with the young girl’s honest response of – yes I have a bottle of tequila. Not to be judgey but – Gee Whiz, Mom. What are you thinking about?

Info from the Customs and Border agents website — Generally, one liter of alcohol per person may be entered into United States duty-free by travelers who are 21 years or older. …. It is illegal for travelers under the age of 21 to import alcohol – even as a gift. They confiscated the tequila of course and when Joyce communicated this information, Mom was incensed.

Columbia River


This sort of information is not hard to find. I found the words italicized above by typing “amount of liquor one may bring into the us duty free?” into Google. I would imagine Duck Duck Go would work too. I did not need to spell U.S. correctly. An amazing service Google is. Gee whiz, Mom. Were you in an area with no bars for your carrier? Her daughter was burdened with a lot of follow-up questions. Who is picking you up? Where is your mother? Imagine in today’s climate a light brown-skinned child’s anxiety.


A child, a dog and three older folks

My sister swung into action and invited the young one on our own excursion into the Columbia river tour and peach purchasing trip. Ice cream treats were served at the end of the afternoon. What a joy to have this mature inquisitive vivacious young girl with us. I think I may have forgotten the joy and wonder that young people bring to life.

Debbie works with young children in her clinical practice so she is tuned into the younger generation and the culture. This young woman was on the cusp of starting a new high school experience. Much of the conversation was sparked by this fact and the excitement that she felt with starting into a new school in a few days. Mom works remotely at her job so as long as the internet was available she could do her job from Mexico. I could hear the dad in me wondering, shouldn’t mom be here commiserating and agonizing with her daughter about high school, teenage-hood, and all the new stuff? Gee whiz. Maybe go and buy a couple new shirts and some of those pre-ripped jeans that the kids wear?

The huckleberry shakes were pretty darn good although I thought the straw was kind of smallish for an ice cream shake. And what is a huckleberry anyway? The conversation was great. I had forgotten the enthusiasm of young people.

Later in the week we visited Rockaway Beach for two nights. We had the best food at Mama Mia’s in Nehalem. We stopped at Astoria to see the column. We bought a couple refrigerator magnets because tourists do that. We ate more food and came back to Portland.

All in all a good time was had by all.

Carpe Diem

Holy Cow It is March 30th

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And it is soon to be March31st.

Debbie, et al. is stuck in the great state of spring break. Allegiant air has disappointed them by changing days for their return flight. Oh well, that is part of the excitement of breaking. She went there with two kids and three grand kids. She is still there.

The universal flight constant was out of alignment with their travel plans.

There are many of these constants constantly cramping various plans humans make for themselves.

A cynical comment is “Man plans. God laughs.” It has several variations but always ends with god laughs. I find it disappointing to believe in a creator who laughs at you. I much prefer a creator who laughs with you.

The universe did not laugh at us when Cheryl and I imagined our future full of travel and good times. A future that was full of family and mirth. A trip hoped for and planned for to Alaska had a little rain and funny towel sculptures. Life had birthday parties and grand kids graduations, dance competitions and valedictorians, surprise visits. We laughed together. We had fun together. Laughed with.

The universe has a vision. Details are in the pixels. Finite divisions of the view are defined by various constants.

Many, many years ago I took a couple photography classes. One of the things we talked about was how color images and black & white images are printed. Tiny little dots (pixels) are used to do this. Our own eyes do this to convey information to the brain and it constructs a view of the world which is remarkably uniform and complete. Our brains are complex and rapid computers. The details are in the pixels but the brain extrapolates that discrete information into our view of the world.

We have vision. We should stay focused on the view. Universal constants realign with the vision. And the universe although unraveling, is doing so as it will.

Debbie et al. will be home soon. The flight tracker app shows her little airplane in the air over the gee in Georgia. The universe is laughing (maybe giggling is a better word) with me. She will be home soon.

Carpe Diem.

Toaster Ovens

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Far be it from me to criticize the American appliance industry but I often wonder what jumped into the engineering head of folks who decided a toaster oven was a much needed appliance.  Having a small oven is handy in its own way but why call it a toaster? Why temp us toast lovers with the ability to get warm morning toast when one actually gets the stale bread a week later.

Indeed toasted bread can be achieved in several different ways with one critical ingredient, great heat applied for a short or relatively short period of time. Toaster ovens are unable to do either. Generally they fit into the vast category of “Almost A Great Idea” or AAGI (aw-gee) for short. At one time in the past we owned a toaster oven which also had the ability to roast a chicken. It had a built in rotisserie gizmo to spear the chicken with and rotate through the meager heat source. (aw-gee) After much trial and error we determined that the timer needed to be able to set itself to much more than the 45 minutes on the dial. The heat source warm up is include in this time since it is not instant on. (Alas and aw-gee)

Many devices fit into AAGI. Instapots and Airfriers might be two more. But often it is fun and necessary to use a device with a small heat source that supplies invaluable cleaning expertise and practice.

Microwave ovens supply this valuable expertise as they are able to rapidly take water from liquid to gas in a rice-sized pocket spreading soup or any other suitable substance over the entire inner surface while keeping the rest of the bowl at the temperature of a standard refrigerator. They are remarkable devices. If you ever require rubberized eggs for any recipe, a low wattage microwave is just the perfect solution.

All of these thoughts came to over the past several days as I pondered another stale bread morning in my nephew’s beautiful, quaint and cute little bungalow in Port St. Joe, Florida. My sister and my girlfriend and I spent three wonderful days there this past week.

We drove in my car so we did not have the wonderful packing experience of making everything fit into one suitcase. We took our time. We stopped occasionally to look for best toilet facilities. We visited Bukee’s in Alabama. No soft serve ice cream at Bukee’s which is a sad state of affairs. (aw-gee) We stopped at the Shrimp Lady which claims to be restaurant-ish on Google Maps. It is not but we bought 2 pounds of shrimps as big as my thumb that came off the boat 20 – 30 minutes previously. Over the next couple of days we ate them as shrimp and cheesy grits, and shrimp with garlic, onion, green pepper and spaghetti with marinara and generous Parmesan cheese.

Did the two most important women in my life just bring me along to cook and drive the car? It was a great trip.

Back to the toaster oven. It is a fine device in its own way but entirely unsatisfactory for making toast in the morning. The Nespresso Virtuo, however, makes excellent coffee one cup at a time, every time, as long as the special pods and a water source are nearby. Foamy luxurious coffee.

We are back home in Ohio. The forsythia in the back is just opening itself. The daffodils are poking up and wondering what the forsythia can see that they cannot. The forest view through my window is greenish against the browns and grayness.

Daylight saving? Time is here. And as Debbie says, “the light is returning to the planet”

I am off to ponder a method of saving the daylight and fold the laundry from the trip.

Carpe Diem.

Some Men have not Eaten Quiche

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Real Men don’t Eat Quiche

Yesterday my nephew, Jeff, and his family came to visit. It was a spontaneous phone message in the dark of the movie theater. “I’m in town for a few days on business. Can we get together for breakfast or lunch?” He lives in California and I have not talked to him face to face since his wedding three years ago. I invited him to my little condo and spread the word to my kids. It was a wonderful spontaneous family gathering.

When I mentioned it to my neighbor Jane later she remarked, “Serendipitous!” Yes, it was.

I made a quiche out of some random components that I had in the refrigerator. Quiche and frittata are in the same category of use what you have, I think. And of the two I think quiche is better. It could be the pastry crust that is required for an excellent quiche. One can make a crustless quiche but that is just lazy and in that other country it is called frittata, so, go over the mountain and call your crustless quiche by the correct name.

Jeff told me that no one had ever made him a quiche before. (It made me feel good inside. I was proud of myself.) The title for this essay jumped into my head after they were all gone yesterday. It is from a satirical little book that I recently found was written in the 80s. (Wow, I am getting old. I thought it was written just a couple years ago.) I had almost said it to him when he said, this is pretty good.

This quiche was bacon, Italian sausage, broccoli and onions with sharp cheddar and mozzarella, eggs scrambled with a little sugar and buttermilk over a pie dough made with flour and butter and a little salt. It was good.

Sometimes us real men eat quiche and pronounce it to be good. The accompanying picture is AI’s version of real men eating quiche. You can tell they are real people because they are washing down their quiche and other green substances with lager. (Never mind the fact that they all have the same mother and they were all born within 15 seconds of each other.)

Beer and quiche, Could be the breakfast of champions.

Carpe the serendipitous Diem.

Time Alone

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Cumberland Thoughts

I came to be alone with my thoughts for awhile and hike in the woods.

Leaves falling in a light breeze in a forest sounds like rain if you listen. They mark the end of a season. They make no promises about the next season. The plants go dormant and wait in hope of spring.

When hiking on leaf covered trails pick up your feet to avoid tripping on invisible rocks and tree roots. (Sometimes wisdom emerges during a morning Autumn hike in the woods.) This learning experience dissipated a mere hundred yards down the trail. The lesson was repeated to emphasize its importance.

Another wisdom arose nearing the end of this trail, one I often forget; “You are not a child or even young anymore. Those steep grades covered with leaves are not for you.”

There are many memories in this park and they are all mixed up in my heart and head. You, Cheryl, got the kids and grand kids to appear for my 60th birthday and our 38th anniversary. We came here many times. Now you are gone and I am here without you.

I have to leave that thought. This is an experiment with a new experience. I am still feeling my way along. Am I here because this is the new beginning? That old adage – This is the first day of the rest of your life! – popped into my mind. What should I do with it?

I talk about being old but I am not really. I can walk without assistance. I should focus on what is possible. I have not hiked trail #6 up to the DuPont lodge since Luke was seven or so. Up up and away. I made it and not too winded. (I am not afraid to tune into my body and take a break when it tells me.)

These are things that ran through my thoughts today as I followed two woodland trails. The first down to Cumberland falls from the DuPont lodge in the park. The second back up the cliff to the lodge for a bite of lunch.

This park has a lot of history for Cheryl and me. We came here on our honeymoon trip. We spent a week in one of the old cabins not far from the lodge. In those days (1970) the housekeeping folks showed up everyday with fresh towels and two rolls of toilet paper in what looked like an old milk delivery truck. We took some home, I think. We were poor. Later I would wonder what they thought we were doing that we needed so much toilet paper for. It was late August but I could not imagine how that factored into it.

After the kids were grown and on their own we came back here for our 25th wedding anniversary. I had thought we might do a big deal trip for that but here seemed appropriate. Afterward we came here many times on the weekend near our anniversary. It is close and special. Those particular trips, about ten or fifteen years worth, are special memories. On some trips we when to other Kentucky parks but we continued to return to Cumberland Falls. The last time was before the pandemic pandemonium.

I was thinking about that yesterday. Cheryl needed a cane to lean on then. I asked her when the last time was that we were here as I walked up the front steps into the lodge and she flashed me a picture of her holding her cane and holding the handrail to go down the steps in front. (She was stubborn about ramps.) Often she sends images to me.

Carpe Diem and the images as they become memories.

(Cartoon from Reddit.)

Discoveries of Her View

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Cheryl is safe in her room a Bridgeway Pointe and I am cleaning up and sorting through papers in her office. She has collected vast piles of birthday cards, Christmas cards, notes, emails and other writings. She has put these together in random collections of paper that, at the time in her thinking, belonged together. (Punding is the term used by the Swiss.) This collection of items is her version of it.

One of the thoughts that comes through to me is a background fear of losing her memory and remembrances of her life. Some of her notes to herself are frantic in her attempt to categorize and save memories.

In the following email she is very succinct in her experience. I uncovered it while sorting. At the time she was taking amantadine. It was prescribed to help deal with the dyskinesias (rapid uncontrolled movements). After a failed trip with lifelong friends Cheryl wrote this letter to explain. It was, I think, the first time she felt the need to explain things to others. Here is her email to Cathy:

Wed, Sep 5, 2018, 10:04 PM to Catherine

Cathy and Paul,

I hope you’re having a good time on Mackinac Island. The tour in which Paul and I participated was very informative and fun. We learned a lot about the island, the people who live there all year round, the horses and how they are cared for, the history of the island, what happens during the winter when the horses are moved to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, and much more. The Harbor View Inn is a very comfortable hotel, the food is always good and there is plenty of it. This is why we were so excited about sharing this trip with you.

I want to explain to you what happened to me last weekend. Every 3 months, I have an appointment with either my neurologist or with his nurse practitioner. Last Tuesday, August 28, my appointment was with the nurse practitioner. During the past 10 months or so I have been taking a new medication that was prescribed for me by the nurse and doctor. It is a drug that is supposed to keep me from swaying side-to-side. By summer I was taking this drug 3 times a day in addition to my prescriptions of Sinemet (I’ve been taking Sinemet for the past 8 years ever since I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease).

About a month ago, I began to experience hallucinations. They weren’t too bothersome. They usually manifested themselves as vivid, sometimes bad dreams. By the time I met with the nurse practitioner (Maureen) last week, these hallucinations were becoming a little more than dreams. I asked if I should begin to wean myself from this new drug. Maureen agreed that I should begin to do that, and we worked out a schedule … and I began to work on eliminating that drug the next day. For a week, I was to stop taking the 7am dose of the drug… I didn’t notice any bad reactions… I still had the hallucinations but they hadn’t become any worse. They were just an annoyance.

On Saturday, Paul and I had a nice drive from home to Lansing, Michigan. The weather was nice. We stopped for lunch in a nice restaurant in Van Wert, Ohio. Then we drove on to Lansing, checking into our hotel around 5pm. We found a nice Bravo restaurant near the hotel, and we had a delicious Italian dinner. We watched TV at the hotel for a while. As I was organizing my things and getting ready for bed, I began seeing things that weren’t really there. There were bed pillows piled on the bed the way they usually are… but I saw what looked like a little child peeking out from under the pillows. I knew this was an illusion, but it persisted. Paul and I talked about it, and Paul said that we should just go to bed and everything would be ok. Based on what had been happening in previous weeks, I thought he was probably right. So we went to bed. Then what I called the “hallucinations from hell” began. The little child kept appearing in and around the bed with the pillows continuing to move. What appeared to be a man wearing a long piece of fabric (I would not call it a cape, but more like a blanket) was “flying” around the ceiling. We tried turning out the lights… nothing changed… things were still moving around. Paul did not see any of this, but he believed me. Finally his solution was for me to close my eyes, since this was all apparently in my head. I tried that for a while, then became frustrated with the whole situation. I got up and walked out of the room in my pajamas. As soon as I heard the door to the room close behind me, I realized that I did not have the room key. Fortunately, Paul heard me and went right to the door and let me back in. But what I had just done frightened both of us. After that I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, repeatedly telling myself that none of this was real, but I wasn’t very convincing. Somehow we made it through that night, but with very little sleep.

When Sunday morning finally arrived, we found a nice restaurant close by and had some breakfast. We talked about the trip and what had happened Saturday night, and we decided that we could not stay and go on the tour. We had never experienced anything like that before, but decided that we did not want to expose anyone else to our troubles. We felt it would be better for us to leave… that would ensure that you would have a good time.

We both think it was a good decision because I continued to have these horrible hallucinations for a couple more nights. Since it was a holiday weekend, I had a difficult time getting in touch with my neurologist’s office. I sent a couple of emails, asking for assistance. Of course, it was not an emergency. I was certain that it was my body’s reaction to withdrawing the medication. I had not thought I would have such a violent reaction. On the other hand, I did not want to increase the dosage again – that would just cause me more problems. So we toughed it out. Each day and night things went a little better. At home at night, the ceiling fan in our bedroom would appear to be falling toward me and the windows would appear to be moving toward our bed… mind you, they never came all the way to the bed, but it was still unnerving. There were people and children moving around in our bedroom and in the living room (this went on day and night). In our master bathroom, which is of course right off the bedroom, a couple of the hand towels were turned into a puppy… I was very surprised when I saw that!

Early yesterday the nurse practitioner contacted me, answering my email messages to her. I had asked if it would be a good idea for me to speed up my withdrawal from this drug, or if it would only cause me more problems. She answered that she did not think my reaction could be much worse. So I should stop taking it all together, and contact her with frequent updates about my condition.

This seems to be working. I’m not out of the woods yet, but I’m definitely feeling better. And the hallucinations are almost gone (I’m almost afraid to say that). But I think they are no longer a problem.

Again, I’m very sorry that Paul and I could not go on the tour with you, but I think now you understand why. We will go on another trip together again sometime soon.. maybe in the spring or summer.

I thank you for your prayers.

Take care.

Love,

Cheryl

This is the best and clearest description she has ever given me of her hallucinatory apparitions. She still sees people, things, children and bugs but less so and the visions are not terrifying to her as they were on this trip.

To me, it is a gift to understand what she has been going through in her mind. This is a love story that is not finished. I think that many of her visions are of people she knows or has known. Much like the theme of the TV show “Ghosts” she may be able to see beyond this world. (Why not?)

Carpe Diem.

81 Miles to Home

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In my former life as a teacher of control topics I had the students set up an electronic timer to reach its goal at 10 seconds and 30 seconds to teach the point when you are waiting 10 seconds to is a long time and 30 seconds is “forever “.

From my view in the back seat the miles to go display is not fast enough. What is it about progress displays that make us wish them to go faster? The electronic timer had no display. It also taught patience.

61 miles now. Urgency is calling me. We are close to home and I can feel stability and familiarity drawing me in. It was a great beach trip.

Black hat
Us beaching
Early morning beach
Setup
Patience almost done

Carpe patience Diem.

Walks on the Beach and other Memories

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Our selfie

When the children were small we began a tradition of making a trip to Myrtle Beach about once each year. The company that I worked for at the time used a pair of common vacation weeks which always landed at the end of July and the first week of August.

The company paid us salaried folks every four weeks called a period. The vacation weeks were the middle two weeks of the eighth period of the year. There were thirteen periods in a year and every few years a week was added to the thirteenth period to correct alignment with a normal calendar year. The Roman’s and later on the Pope would have been proud of Cincinnati Milacron.

Every year for 15 years or so our family went on vacation in the hottest part of the Ohio summer. Since my father worked for Milacron the memories of this vacation time goes back to childhood.

Cheryl liked to hike and walk. Not being an especially athletic person she substituted hiking and walking for any other athletic endeavor. At Myrtle Beach we would get up early hike the empty beach. It is where I first saw the green flash that occurs when the sun comes up over the ocean.

On other vacations over the years hiking was a big motivator. In every state park or national park or area that we stopped in walking and hiking was a major part of the experience. Maps were collected upon arrival and put to good use during the stay. In one Kentucky park our hike was about ten miles. It is without a doubt the thing I miss most with the onslaught of Parkinson. Her struggle to walk freely and move easily is disheartening. It was in many ways our main entertainment.

Conversation, discussion, debate, points won, points lost were all accompanied by a satisfyingly long walk. I think I miss those more than I can easily express.

Today my daughter and her husband took a long walk down the beach together. I was envious.

The hat

This time at the beach I am pushing her here and there. There are special wheelchairs for the beach and they are free. There is good ice cream across the road. I pushed her there too.

Carpe Diem.

Arrival Azure

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Cheryl and I have come to Florida rarely. My brother who was several years older than me chased his job to Florida in the 1970’s. We had been to visit with him and his family three times in all those years. The last time was not even a year before he passed from the Earth.

There are times when I think about Bill. Occasionally I hear his voice when I talk but occasionally I hear my father’s voice also. We came from the same germ so that’s bound to happen. Dad’s intonation and cadence is in our speech.

This place is in the panhandle almost Alabama part of Florida. Driving around today using up time before we could claim our condo for ourselves I noticed how busy this place is. It seems many are packing as many experiences as possible into the week that they have here.

The water seems to be a different color than the Atlantic coast around Myrtle Beach where we took the kids for many years. I could be wrong about that. It has been many years since we have been there. Memories fade over time.

The pine trees in southern Alabama look to be same species as those in South Carolina and Georgia.

Cheryl seems very tired. It is understandable. It has been a long ride for her and me. The view is very different from our veranda. It is certainly not Ohio.

The surf is very loud.

Cheryl seems concerned that she is not attending to some things that need attention. She is unclear about what those things are. I have assured her many times over that I have made sure that nothing will be missed because of this trip.

If she sleeps well tonight it will be great on the morrow.

Carpe Diem.

Traveling to Florida

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In October 2019 I went to visit my brother in at his home in Florida.

In phone conversation earlier in the year Bill told me of several health issues that had cropped up. He had surgery to repair some of those. I became alarmed at that. I realized at the time how little contact we had with each other since Mom’s death.

I developed the thought of travel to Florida with Cheryl. She was interested in visiting with her sister Janice and her cousin Mary Kay who had recently moved to Florida with her husband Jay to start a new chapter of their life together.

Travel with a parkie requires much preparation. In addition to pills and documentation in case some piece of the plan fails, our plan had to include rest periods. Over many discussions with Cheryl – I put this on me – I decided it best to drive and spend two to three days traveling. This would limit our time in the car to about six hours a day and allow for resting every few hours dependent on Cheryl’s well being at any one time.

Tires changed, oil changed, other things inspected and about $700 later the chariot was ready. Hampton Inns were aligned with the projected stops after the hours traveled for the initial southern leg of the loop. Every possible health apparatus that might be required was staged for loading. The time to go had come.

In our younger years, I enjoyed traveling by car. I still do. I set the cruise to about four miles faster than the speed limit posted and steer. In Georgia that means I am traveling about eleven miles an hour slower than the other traffic. It is peaceful to me. The other vehicles swirl around like water over the pebbles in a brook and move on in an unchoreographed dance that is majestic and sad.

We are off. The car trunk packed with every conceivable health convenience required for a parkie. And food for the trip in the backseat. This has always been our method of travel. Cheryl gets out the map for the current State that we are traveling through and puts it on her lap to navigate. As we are driving along discussing things, it becomes apparent that she can no longer read a map. This is unfortunate. I don’t need a map most of the time. But Cheryl would put the map in her lap to keep track of our progress in past trips. Sadly on this trip that would not be possible. I had a new task. I had to keep her lap map synchronized with the travel we did each day. “Where are we?”, she would ask while gesturing at the map in her lap. It was an anxiety I did not want her to have. She was constantly worried we were lost. This was something I had not planned for. I had hoped it would be a peaceful trip south to visit family in Florida.

The weather was perfect. This was October. We stopped after about an hour or two of rolling along at various rest stops along the way. I would reassure her that we were not lost. I would show her where we were on her map.

In some parkies, and in this case, Cheryl, there seems a disconnect between time and speed and a sense of distance traveled. These are rudimentary math concepts. To read a map and navigate with it a sense of scaling is needed. Little of this made “sense” to Cheryl. Parkinson’s disease had stolen this from her. Lately it seems that much of her cognition has been crippled. As we drove along I pointed out route numbers and towns on the green signs and pointed to her map to help her find the answer to “Where are we?”

Part of the trip was to see how Cheryl traveled. Her brain seems to wander between illusion, delusion, small hallucination and confusion without losing lucidity. The mental aspects of Parkinson’s, which every parkie does not get, seem to be be ever so slowly taking over.

There were times when I doubted my decision to make the journey by car. We stopped more often than we did when we were younger. It caused me to realize I was still young in my head. But we stopped anyway.

The stopping was necessary. I needed to stretch my legs. Cheryl needed to stretch her mind. The weather during this trip was magnificent. During most of the stopping we were able to find a shady picnic area that allowed her to lay down for a bit and rest. I had enough pillows and pads in the trunk so that we could turn a bench into a cot for a bit. We walked a bit until she announced that it would be good to lay for a bit.

When we stopped for the night after 5-6 hours of driving and 2-3 hours of stopping, I was on high alert. On a trip that we took approximately two years previous she had a bad reaction to some of her meds which coupled with some hallucinations led to a long night of trouble. It seemed to be a live dream that I had become a part of. She was certain that demons not daemons were flying about in the hotel room and after using the bathroom in the middle of the night, she left to find help. I jumped up to let her back into the room and remained awake for most of the rest of the early morning hours until she fell asleep again. Her vision was real to her. We discussed it and if she closed her eyes she did not she the demons. She closed her eyes tightly and stayed this way for a long while until she calmed down and fell asleep.

Even though she no longer was taking the medicine that she reacted badly to, I was worried that this might come back in the middle of the night in an unfamiliar place. As a part of my stay over package I had several small night lights. Spotted around strategically just enough light to spark a memory. — Oh, that’s right, we are heading to Florida. And don’t trip while going to the bathroom!

About handicap accommodations; every state has different rules and expectations for these rooms. Many of these are excellent. The newer Hampton Inns have an outstanding designer of these, although, they are few in number at each facility. In older Hamptons and other operators the rooms have been converted from standard rooms and in this author’s opinion, it does not work. There simply is not enough space.

My brother… and his health

He is six years older than me. Aloof and mysterious to me as a younger brother all my life. We were never close. The age difference was too great when we were younger. That simple fact became embedded in our relationship though our lives. It was too great to overcome. We connected through Mom and sometimes, Dad, but mostly through Mom. When Mom passed away a couple years ago the connection was completely broken. And yet, I found the need to connect. It was a unilateral need. Or so I thought.

We had talked on the phone towards the end of the summer. His birthday is the end of August and it seemed that even though we were not close, I owed him a call on his birthday. Mom was gone and in some ways our family was fragmenting. We lived as far apart as you can and still be in the continental U.S. Florida, Oregon and Ohio. If I had moved to Maine or the Upper Peninsula of Michigan it would be more so, but only slightly.

The birthday conversation went something like;

Me: Happy Birthday! Did you have a good day? Did the kids come over to celebrate?

Him: It wasn’t too bad…

Me: So, how’s life in the great state of Florida?

And after that what came out was a long list of maladies and illness that shocked me into thinking – Wow, this is my big brother. I think he is checking out.

I did two things that evening. I called my sister Joyce to report and ask if she had talked to Bill in the last few months. And I planned to somehow get to Florida to see him.

Through the month of September and into October I planned, corrected, changed, threw out, started over and eventually decided on driving albeit a mosey of a drive. And when we got there, my brother was my brother. Thirty-five pounds lighter perhaps but that was a good thing.

It was a good visit. Before coming I had asked Bill if I could stay with him. Their house in Florida is sent up for that. There is a master suite on one side, more bedrooms and baths on the other side, a pass through bath that leads outdoors to the pool under a screened in area and common areas in the middle. It is a wonderful house. Perfect for a grown up family that travels to visit Mom and Dad (Grandma and Grandpa) on holidays and other occasions.

My request to stay at his house was totally selfish. I knew that I needed to settle Cheryl into a place that was a home atmosphere and provided other distractions without requiring a lot of walking. A suite at a hotel would have served us just as well for her needs or my perception of her needs. Not a lot happens in our Parkinson’s life before about 11AM. The hustle and bustle of early morning get-ups and snagging breakfast on the run as we head out to other places and occupations is gone from our life. Our mornings are quite and slow. My brother’s house in Florida was perfect. I wanted to have time to talk to a guy who is not that talkative to his little brother even though both are in their seventies. (smiley face)

We talked about many things; some health issues, some not. Through it all I was concerned that he seemed to move around very little. He sat a lot. I did some home improvement and lit the gas fireplace in preparation for the harsh Florida winter. I helped him roll the trash to the end of the driveway on trash day. After which I mentally vowed to send a cane that I had made for my father many years previous. In my mind I decided Bill needed to move. Take a walk. Get out of the chair. And if he did not start soon he would never do it or live much longer. At the end of Mom’s life she slowed down and sat. Her life became; get up, some breakfast, coffee, sit, turn on cable news, sit some more. I flashed to that while talking to my brother. He added another nuance, play with his tablet computer.

There were a couple of instances where I was perched on his love seat and he was futzing with his tablet. Some cable news outlet was playing on a flat screen TV so large that a blind man could watch it from three hundred meters away. In profile he looked so much like our father it took my attention from the room and I thought about Dad.

On the drive back home I was sincerely pleased that I had made the trip to see him. (As I write this I realize how focused I was on Bill while we were there.) For a bit, my focus on Cheryl and her needs were relieved.

Janice and Bill and Mary Kay and Jay luncheon…

Next stop – lunch with the sister and cousin. From one side of Florida to the other for lunch, Janice and brother-in-law Bill live near Tampa across the state from my brother. Mary Kay and her husband Jay had moved to the same left coast but father south toward Ft. Myers/Cape Coral. The planning committee arranged accommodations at a chain restaurant just south of Tampa equidistant time wise from Orlando and Ft. Myers.

Cheryl and I spent time catching up with other family. An odd statement at best but Janice is Cheryl’s sister and Mary Kay is Cheryl’s cousin. I have had very little contact with them over the years.

Jay is a good guy who has spent his life rehabbing houses and likes to lean on the kitchen counter while drinking a beer. Brother-in-law Bill is an odd guy with off-putting social skills. Any conversation had to involve him at the center. Over the years social situations were made more palatable by the presence of Eberhard Anheuser and Adolphus Busch, sometimes Mr. Miller.

It has not changed. As fortune would have it, Jay sat on our end of the table. We were the last to arrive. Mary Kay and Jay were the most recent Floridians. They had sold all in Montgomery, Ohio to start over in coastal Florida.

undefined A side note here. A few years ago, Janice and Bill adopted a young autistic boy, Justin, and have cared for him since. Bill and he seem to have a very close connection. Justin is very interested in blow-up decorations and has collected quite a few to celebrate various holidays. This picture is his set up for All Hallows Eve.

We returned to Cincinnati a few days later by a different route. I had no other plan about that other than to see different landscape. After all, I was doing the steering. after two and a half more days of “Where are we?” and some less than perfect hotel accommodations we were home in our own bed.

Final thoughts…

I sent Bill Dad’s cane when I got home. I called to encourage him and tease him into walking more. And although I vowed mentally to call him more often, I did not want to seem a pest. Ours was a complicated relationship and a few days ago as I was collecting my thoughts about this trip, my sister called to tell me Bill had died earlier that morning.

I will think about Bill as I watch our youngest grandson, Zachary, and note how he interacts with his older brother. They have a gap in years more extreme than Bill and I did.