"For Auld Lang Syne"

On New Year's Eve we used to gather in the living room - with the coffee table spread with the special treats that were relegated to this one night a year: chips and shrimp dip, Christmas cookies - Lebkuchen, Springerle, bourbon balls, fudge, fruit/whiskey cake (that Mommy had managed to keep hidden long enough to make it this far in the holiday season), and cheese (a 5 pound block, sent to us annually by Aunt Rae - a very practical gift for a family with a horde of hungry kids) and crackers. It was also our tradition to have ginger ale floats at around 10 o'clock.

We played ROOK (a card game) and watched (on TV) the year rung in by Guy Lombardo and his band playing "Auld Lang Syne", or in later years, Dick Clark's Rockin' New Year's Eve in Time Square - counting down as the crystal ball dropped, and wishing all a "Happy New Year!"

Immediately after midnight, the boys set off a string of Black Cat firecrackers in the middle of Laguna, thus signaling the end of our celebration and belated bedtime for all of us.

The idea of a new year always seemed so full of promise... so full of possibility. Now it carries with it a nostalgia, a certain sadness for loved ones we've lost, and marks the passage of time.

"For Auld Lang Syne, my dear
For Auld Lang Syne,
We'll take a cup of kindness, yet
For Auld Lang Syne."

May this New Year be a Happy and Blessed one for everyone.

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree...

When we were growing up, every year at Christmas time, the boys (Herman and Fred) would go out to find "the perfect Christmas tree". As our options of evergreens were limited, it was usually a pine, and as with all natural trees, it was difficult to find just the right shape and size. They had even resorted to climbing to the top of a taller pine and cutting off the top (just like in Mr. Willowby's Christmas Tree - one of Carl's favorite books) and bringing it home.

Marty was a self-proclaimed Christmas tree expert and it was rare for a tree to meet with her immediate approval: "It's got a big hole in the middle... ", "It's too scrawny", or "This is the worst tree, ever!"

The boys had gotten wise to her disapproval and had developed their own plan of action: they brought TWO trees. One, the better though disappointing front-runner, and the second, used as a "filler". They would find the appropriate length branch from the second tree to fill-in the empty space(s) on the first. They drilled a hole in the trunk, fitted the branch, and wired it into place. At this point it may be deemed "better", but final judgement and approval was deferred until the tree was in it's proper place and dressed in all of it's finery.

We used spray-can-snow to flock the tree, then while it rested, got down the big Mayflower Movers box from the attic. What fun to pull all of the old decorations out, and, after lights were put on, hang the ornaments. (We used blue lights for many years, but they were relegated to surrounding the front window to frame the tree when the newer, smaller and more colorful modern lights came out.) Of course, the blue foil star with the angel figure centered in it on a cloud of fiberglass had to be placed at the top. Once the ornaments were in place, the long strands of tinsel were placed, or flung - though this method was largely looked down upon and the flung icicles often had to be "fixed" to hang perfectly. * The icicles were made with lead, but we were blissfully oblivious to the dangers of such.

We stepped back to survey the tree and to await the final proclamation.

We held our breath, until it was finally declared by Marty as,
"... the prettiest Christmas tree we've ever had!"

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Every year we pull out our pre-lit, perfectly formed artificial (due to allergies) tree. We put it together, spread the branches and arrange them into a "natural tree" shape and hold our collective breath as we plug it in to see if the lights still work. Our current tree has a lovely twinkle effect, only an occasional light will blink like a star that is peeking through the branches.

Our ornaments are a hodge-podge of old family (Brandl) heirlooms, fragile crystal and glass balls, collected gift ornaments, and the ornaments that the kids made over the years in school. No color coordinated, themed, be-ribboned or sophisticated tree for us.

Our tree is transformed into a memory-evoking journey of our marriage, our kids' childhoods, Christmas's past, and mementos of places we/they've been.

Special ornaments are hung by certain people, others have special placement, but each is unique in its own way. The kids laugh uproariously at the "artistic license" they took as kindergartners and grade-schoolers with many of the hand-made ornaments, with the most "special" of these relegated to the back of the tree "so you can see them when you are going upstairs".

It is a magical, beautiful tree - in fact, it is "the prettiest Christmas tree we've ever had!"

~*~The tree (a gift from Janet and Paul) in the apartment - we still call it "Grammy's apartment" - is up and lit at night. Mommy always said she would think of Janet when she looked at it... now I think of Janet AND Mommy, and their joyous Christmas celebration in heaven.~*~

Red Lipstick

In loving tribute to our beloved Mommy/Grammy/Sister who never left the house without her lipstick...



In getting ready to go to the funeral, I spotted Momma's lipstick and had an idea, an inspiration...

I selected three of her lipsticks, and brought them along.

After the funeral, we girls all selected the same color "Cherries in Snow" and put it on. Grace had to leave early, so I took a photo of her by herself, then we all (even Aunt Jessie) posed red-lipped together in Linda's bathroom mirror.






It seemed an appropriate way to honor Momma ~ with loving memories and laughter.



Even more poignant, was something Linda and I witnessed ~ as we stood at her bedside, days before Mommy left us ~ she took her "lipstick" in hand and put it on... one last time... she was ready to go.

We love you, forever.

Christmas 2011 Letters

Dear family and friends of Margaret Pretzer Griese,

On November 23, 2011 my dear mother, Margaret "Margie", left us to go to her heavenly home.

She had suffered from dementia (Alzheimer's) for many years, struggling to hold on to what she once knew with ease.

She was in the care of my family for the last four and a half years, and I can assure you that she never lost her gracious attitude, nor her sense of humor. She never failed to say "thank you" for even the smallest thing I, or anyone else, did for her. Even in the last weeks of her life, she still used humor to put others at ease.

Her faith, that was always an example to all of her family, was still strong. She saw angels and dearly missed family members gathered around her bed a few days before she left us, and was so happy to be going with them, soon. She received her final Holy Communion while she could still swallow and speak.

We will miss her, dearly, but rejoice in her heavenly homecoming.

Merry Christmas and a Joyous and Blessed New Year,

Ann Elise Griese Brandl

Dear family and friends,

I hope that this finds you all well.

This has been a year filled with love, faith, sorrow and joy.

Meg graduated from University of Alabama in August (May graduation was delayed due to the tornado that devastated parts of Tuscaloosa), then headed off for adventure and graduate school at Notre Dame.

Matt and Mike are both in high school - and all of the kids are taller than me, now. They are active in the band and Robotics, and Matt is also in the Chess club and on the Quiz Bowl team, as well as being First Consul in Latin club. They will be marching in the Chick-fil-A Bowl game and parade for New Year's.

John has been terribly busy with work, but still manages to keep the yard looking beautiful, the cars in running order and basically doing everything to take care of us. He put in a lot of hours with the Band Boosters, working all of the home games to give his support to the band, too. We celebrated 30 years of wedded bliss, this year. I am continually blessed to be married to the love of my life.

I have been almost totally occupied with caring for Mother, whose Alzheimer's became much worse this year. She passed away the day before Thanksgiving. We are grateful for her release from pain and the misery that losing her memory brought her, but she is so dearly missed. As so much of my time and attention was focused on her and her care, I am somewhat at a loss. I plan to return to work in the laboratory (if any Med Tech jobs are available) or back in the parish school system in the near future.
Her funeral served as a time to remember her, but also to celebrate her life and to celebrate our remaining family. Most of my siblings and nieces and nephews, and even an Aunt and Uncle in their 80s made the trip to Shreveport, and despite our loss, we had a wonderful time of connecting and sharing our love for one another.

We wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Joyous and Blessed New Year!

Love,

John, Annie, Meg, Matt and Mike

"God Be With You 'Til We Meet Again"

On November 23, Mommy left us for her new heavenly home.

The warm, loving woman, who had been our mother and grandmother, was now just the earthly vessel - emptied of her spirit - her light, humor, faith and love.

The lovely, yet-unlined face held no expression.

Her blue eyes, held no sparkle.

Her hands that helped to guide us, held us up, and comforted and soothed us, were still.

Her hair was matted from our being unable to brush it, in the last couple of weeks.

Her body, so thin from weight lost in being unable to take in nourishment,

But her spirit soared to the heavens.

Her pleas to her mommy to "Please, please take me with you!" were answered.

Her body's pain was ended.

Her memories were restored.

Her light, humor, faith and love will linger here with all of us... to remember, to share, to cherish.

God bless and keep each and every one of us. Let us find solace in our memories of her, and peace in the Faith that she gave us. Let us honor her love for us with love for one another.

~*~*~*~*

I have felt that I have been in a race with time - to hurry and finish all of the stories I share here with all of you,

But I realized that, just because her life is at an end,

The cherished memories that we have to share, will go on...

So, I don't have to be finished.

The memories and family stories, will go on for as long as we have them, in our hearts and minds

For as long as we tell them - or humbly record them here.

Angels Circling

Linda and I stayed up (in shifts) all night, holding Mommy's hand, moistening her lips, listening to her breathe and listening for her to start breathing again when she stopped. It was a long night. We didn't think she would make it to morning.

Today the medical supply people brought an oxygen concentrator, oxygen tank, and suction machine (since Mommy now has so much difficulty swallowing- so she doesn't aspirate).

She can no longer drink, so with dehydration and her falling blood pressure, it won't be much longer. At least the moist air (from the concentrator) will help with the dry mouth and throat.

She has a grimace from pain on her face, so we upped the morphine dosage, and give it regularly.

She opened her eyes a couple of times, but she's not seeing anything (of this world). I told her, "If the angels or your Mommy and Daddy come for you, you can go with them. You've been such a good Mommy and Grammy. We all love you."

As Sherry (the nurse assistant) says, "the angels are circling".

* Mommy has a fever of 101. Nicole (RN) says it's a "terminal fever".

Special Treatment

When we were sick, and if we passed the acid-test, i.e., threw up or had a fever, we got special treatment.

My kids will find this almost impossible to believe, but we only got carbonated beverages, e.g., "Coke", 7up, Ginger Ale, on certain special occasions. Other than our New Year's Eve traditional Ginger Ale float, the other "occasion" was being sick.

Upon completion of said initial "earping", we immediately put in an order for our beverage of choice (of course, we were limited to clear fluids if throwing up). If we had a fever, Coke was also acceptable, as long as the malady not accompanied by stomach upset. This actually made us almost excited to be sick!

Of course, any illness that lasted longer than a day, or fever that was above a certain (undetermined) level meant a trip to Dr. Ferguson.

His was a typical family doctor's office, complete with Coke machine (first the box type, later the upright one with the glass door), uncomfortable (if you were sick enough to be there, you were gonna be uncomfortable anyway) chairs, book of illustrated Bible Stories (I can still picture Jesus' temptation by Satan) and Hi-Lights magazines, and separate Colored Waiting Room (I don't think this meant that Dr. Ferguson was racist, it was just expected by both the white and "colored" patient population of the time - not that it made it right. Later, after segregation, it was a well-patient room, so that contagious patients wouldn't contaminate them... sort of the same principle.)

The counter/front desk and records area were manned by his very capable nurse, Toni. She wore a crisp starched white dress uniform, complete with nurses cap, white stockings and white nurse shoes. Her hair was styled into a french-twist with tight salt and pepper curls on the top.

When your name was called, you walked down the hall to the third (or fourth?) door on the left, which was Dr. Ferguson's office. Dr. Ferguson was a short rotund man with dark hair, balding on top, dark eyebrows and black framed glasses. He was seated at his desk, and you (the patient) sat in the chair at the side of it. He took a glass thermometer out of the holder (full of rubbing alcohol), wiping it off with a gauze square, shook it down, and placed it under your tongue. While waiting for the thermometer to be ready to be read, he took your blood pressure. Then he asked about what brought you to his office. He listened to Mommy's assessment of your illness, then if warranted, hollered, "TO-NI!"

You knew what it meant. You walked further down the hallway, escorted by the no-nonsense Toni. She instructed you to sit on the edge of the exam table, where you watched, with a mixed dread and fascination, as she took a glass syringe, glass plunger and needle assembly from the sterilizer, put them together, and drew-up the liquid from a bottle she took from a large glass fronted cabinet with other such vials and instruments held within. She readied a gauze square, and cotton ball soaked in alcohol, quickly swabbed your upper arm, stuck in the needle and injected the medicine. She pulled out the needle and asked you to hold the gauze square. After a bit she would check for bleeding and put a piece of tape over the gauze "bump". Your personal "red-badge-of-courage".

From the office we usually proceeded to Lakeshore Drug, to have the prescription filled. There, you knew that because you got a shot, you would be rewarded with a treat (usually a foil-wrapped Russell-Stover chocolate).

Then homeward to sip away on your 7up!

Mommy will only drink Ginger Ale right now, but since she's sick, she gets special treatment.

Depart in Peace

On Tuesday, Pastor Marcus Ring (the new Pastor at St. Paul), came to give Mommy communion. (He was going to Monroe for a Pastors' conference.) He said he had heard so much about "Margaret" from so many people at St. Paul, so he was glad to meet her.

She barely mumbled, but said "Amen" in the right spots, so she knew what was going on.

The readings and hymn he chose were definitely "last rites" material. When he was leaving, she told him "Thank you for going to all the trouble (of coming to see her)."

Today (Thursday) Pastor Paul came to give her communion, also. She was more despondent and not as aware of what was going on. He sang a couple of hymns for her, too. He really noticed the decline from how she was last time he saw her. Instead of saying "See you next month" like normal, he said, "You have my number."

I've been playing hymns sung by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, and some of her favorite Bach on her cassette player. It is very calm and beautiful in her apartment, warm and cozy. Shadow is being very quiet and attentive to her. He can't get on the hospital bed, so he sleeps on a blanket on the floor.

Her sins are forgiven, and she is ready to go whenever the Lord calls for her.

~Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word

For mine eyes have seen thy salvation,

which thou hast prepared, before the face of all people

A light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel.~

Mommy's Favorite

"Mom always liked you best!" was a recurring act on a musical comedy show, in the late 60s, called the Smothers Brothers. Brothers,Tom and Dick, would sing and play a folk song (such as"Boil that Cabbage Down") and interrupt themselves with some comedy routine in which Dick would put Tommy down, to which Tom would retort that "Mom always liked you best". Definitely the stuff of which sibling rivalries are made.

When we were asked by Mommy to do a chore, we usually wanted to know, "Well, what is So-and-so doing?" She would either point out something they had done that we had gotten off the hook for, or simply said, "Nobody wants to do more work than anybody else!" - her admonishment for worrying what anyone else was doing, when we should be doing what she asked.

Another of our ploys to ensure there was equal work for all was for us to say, "Why do I always have to do ...?" (whatever she was asking us to do). Her answer was, "Because you do it better than anybody else!" Linda commented to me that "if she thought you did it better, then you would want to, so that everyone could benefit from your skill, and so Mommy's faith in you would be affirmed." She proved that she thought you were special, and that she believed in you. (Heck, I just thought she was saying that to make me do it!)

She understood that we were all, each our own person, an individual -She never expected us to be like one another.

Even if she left me at Girl Scouts (an hour late) until it was getting dark, and when I was finally picked up, said, as her excuse, "There were so many kids, I thought everybody was there!", I understood and wasn't the least bit traumatized.

We each knew in our hearts that if, IF she had a favorite - each of us thought, "it was ME!"

An Audience With Angels

Mommy has experienced a sharp decline in her health and state of being. This past weekend, she didn't want to get out of bed at all, but would allow John and I (it took both of us) to assist her to the bathroom. On Monday, she couldn't walk at all, and is experiencing such terrible pain all over that it feels like I'm "ripping all of her skin off" and "breaking her bones". She could do nothing, but cry out and say that I was "torturing her".

While struggling to change her and the bedding, I knew it was , without a doubt, time for the hospital bed. I asked the hospice nurse, Nicole, to order it for Tuesday.

Swallowing difficulties also came into the picture, and with that, the need to get some medications in liquid form- the others, I crush and add to a drink, which she can still swallow if I remind her to. She will not eat more than a few bites of food, at a time, and has to be reminded to chew and swallow.

Her legs have lost all muscle tone, and are swollen with retained fluid. She will probably not get up from the bed on her own, again.

To manage the pain, I am giving her liquid morphine, and to calm the agitation, Haldoperidol. You would think that those two (or even one of them) would knock her out, but they have quite the opposite effect.

They say that when a patient is near death, they report remarkable experiences and develop and expanded awareness which is called Near Death Awareness - a special knowledge about, and sometimes control over, the process of dying.

Mommy is experiencing all of the noted characteristics of this Awareness, and I spent the night in her room, listening to and recording all that transpired.

One of the characteristics is preparing for travel or change. She kept asking for her knob. "Knob?" I would ask. K-n-o-b, knob... after some time she realized the word she was looking for was "purse". You always have to have your purse when you go somewhere. She also said, "sign my will...", "be at church", and a "dressy dress".

The good news is, she is not alone - her room was filled with loved ones. She pointed some out to me:

"My mother is here, over there in the pink. "Please, please take me with you!"

Rae, "Here comes my big sister!" and Frieda were mentioned by name. There was such a crowd, and she was "holding court" - pointing and talking, waving, "hi". Some were standing in the room around her bed, others up at the ceiling. Her conversations and speech were more coherent than she has been in a long time (even when I spoke to her, she didn't have trouble hearing or comprehending). Once, as I entered the room she was talking to someone and smiling. She said, "Happy, happy, happy." Also, "I remember walking with you..."

She was trying to fold and fluff the comforter, "will need 2 dozen handkerchiefs".

"I hear a kid in there."

"What happened to Rae? I suppose she got married?"

"Eat more strawberries and garden products."

"Where're Mom and Dad? Do you have any idea?"

"Animal, caramel, general, muramel" ?

"I sound like I'm drunk, don't I, but I'm not."

She points and says, "My mommy" and next to that spot, "and my Daddy".

"When are we leaving?"

"Where are we going to?"

"I'll get to see a lot of them, there."

"Everything I brought out of here is going to a new city."

"We could go outside."

"Where is that sweet little kid?" (Janet?)

"... Christmas party... or Christmas..."

lists supplies for a big dinner, "of course, enough dishes are the problem."

"Everybody help... easier get together... beer, wine."

"I'm sure you remember, flowing water... I was laughing and laughing... "

"I'm not sure you were there for hugs... that's what it's all about... kids."

It may not be much longer, but at least we know she will not be lonely, and she seems happy to be going... so I am happy for her, too.

Lady In Red

* "A Christmas story, in October?" you might ask, but given the stores' early seasonal displays of Christmas merchandise in October, and that this is a Christmas shopping story... well, you see why it must be posted now, in October... to warn others, before it is too late.

~.~ A Cautionary Christmas Shopping Tale ~.~

When we were young, Mommy loaded us up in the Ford Club Wagon and took us out to Shreve City to shop for Christmas presents. We bought things that were not too expensive, but tried to customize each gift for the person we were purchasing it for.

On this occasion, Marty's and my friend, Jamie Easman, came along, and we went into a store called G. C. Murphy's. It was like a precursor to Wal-Mart or K-Mart with its variety of items.

I don't remember what I got for anyone else, but I do remember what I bought for Mommy... a lipstick called "Lady In Red".

It was the perfect gift, because she always wore red lipstick. I was very pleased with my choice for her, and promptly went to the cashier and paid for it.

The next series of decisions would mar my Christmas shopping experience, and scar me emotionally, for years to come.

I knew we'd be headed back out to the car, where Mommy would be waiting. I thought she might ask, "So what did you get?" - this was very flawed logic, as Marty always declared, "Christmas is a time for secrets!" - but, I didn't want to spoil my surprise of the perfect gift for her, by any hint of a package, and the packaging of the lipstick wouldn't fit in my pocket. I took the package out of the bag, removed the lipstick from the package, then threw package, bag and receipt in the nearby cosmetic area trash can. I put the lipstick in my pocket, happy because Mommy would be none the wiser about what would probably be the best Christmas present she was ever to receive!

As Marty and Jamie were still browsing, I stood around in the cosmetic area - just in case the gifts they were selecting were for me! : ), as I didn't want to spoil their surprise.

Before long, a pinched-face woman approached me, holding me by the shoulder, and said, "Come with me!"

She led me to an office in the back of the store, presented me to a stern man sitting in a desk.

"What's your name?" He barked.

Hey, I thought, this is no ordinary, dumb 5th grader you're dealing with, but an avid reader of Nancy Drew mysteries! I didn't want a police record, so I quickly answered, "Ann Elise"- No last name, as if Elise was my last name.

"Empty your pockets!" he ordered me.

By now I figured that the offense I was being charged with had to do with the lipstick in my pocket. Just to stall for time, I began to put out the schnibbles of Kleenex that I always had in my winter coat pocket, shredded by my habit of poking my thumbs through the tissue and tearing it to bits, looking like hamsters had made a nest there. After one pocketful, I could see the man was growing impatient, so from the second pocket, I ignored the other nest, and pulled out the offending lipstick and placed it on the desk.

"You stole this!" the man accused me.

"No, I didn't. I paid for it." I quickly explained my reasoning about Mommy waiting in the car and the element of surprise. "I put the package, bag and receipt in the trash can. I can show it to you."

The pinch-faced saleslady said she would take me to see if the cashier remembered me, grabbing my arm roughly and holding tight. The man warned her to "Watch her like a hawk!" (Yeah, I'm a hardened criminal!)

During my "incarceration" and interrogation in the back room, Marty had been a frantic mess. She hadn't seen the woman lead me away, but Jamie had, and told her "a lady came and took Annie away".

The woman took me to the harried cashier station to check out my story. To my horror, NO ONE remembered me! I reminded her that my package and receipt were in a place that I could show her, and I prayed that no one had since emptied the trash!

She warily let me (in her firm grasp) lead her to the cosmetic area, where I produced the evidence of my legal purchase! Vindicated, I asked for the lipstick back, and without so much as a "We are sorry to have falsely accused you and scared you, and your sister and friend who thought you were kidnapped", they admonished me, "Don't you EVER take something out of the package in the store again!"

We left the store and hastened to the waiting van. Mommy, seeing all of our white faces, knew something was up. She asked what was wrong.

The whole sordid tale of woe - my false arrest and imprisonment (under my "assumed" name), my "kidnapping" and eventual joyous return... and worst of all the spoiled surprise of the "Best Christmas Present EVER!", the "Lady In Red" lipstick - poured out of us, like water over Niagara Falls, in a tumbled rush of words and emotions.

I vowed never to go into that store again, for as long as I lived!

On Christmas morning, Mommy was overjoyed by her lovely lipstick and my thoughtful gift and heroic, though thwarted, actions to keep it a Christmas surprise. I reveled in the joy of knowing that I had indeed given her the most perfect gift, and a truly Merry Christmas.

~.~

Hallucinations and Hot Steam

Yesterday, Mommy was very agitated. I don't know quite what she was upset about, but she tried to hit me. She said she was "trying to protect herself". She also asked if I had been the only one in there, and when I said I was, she apologized - she must have been hallucinating that someone else was in there, doing something to threaten her.

After I got her settled down and back in bed, she asked, "Does my dad know where to find me? Does he know I'm here?" I explained that yes, he knows where she is, and that he's watching over her from heaven. I bet she was wishing he would come on the weekend and bring her a Hershey bar and take her to the movies.

The hallucinations and her odd behavior must have unnerved me a bit, when I had to walk the dogs later than usual, after dark. As we went down the hill to a very dark part of the road, shaded from the moonlight, I thought I saw, like a mist - rather than felt - a "hot steam"- a hot spot in the road that Jem and Scout (To Kill A Mockingbird) think is "somebody who can't get to heaven, just wallows around on lonesome roads an' if you walk through him, when you die you'll be one too, an' you'll go around at night suckin' people's breath-". I quoted from the book, the thing you are supposed to say when you walk through one, "Angel-bright, life-in-death; get off the road, don't suck my breath!" I chuckled, and felt silly for feeling the least bit afraid.

When I got back, Mommy was wondering "what's up with the chicken business?" She says "a woman brought chickens into there" - pointing at the bathroom. Yes, definitely hallucinating.

She is constantly moving one leg and flapping one arm (as if fanning with the covers), and is very agitated. There are days where she is unable to walk, at all, but then it comes back to her, and I find her sitting on the couch watching "those people who are always looking in the window." I tell her that's not a window, it's the tv. They can't see you.

Hospice

Well, Mommy is now enrolled in hospice. She didn't qualify based on her dementia, because she is still able to speak, but with the other health concerns - blood pressure, potassium and weight loss - she did qualify. (Technically, hospice is for the last six months of life, but they re-evaluate her condition every 60-90 days. If she doesn't continue to decline, or plateaus out, then she will be discharged from hospice for the time being, until a decline is in progress again.)

Being in hospice means that we don't have to go to the doctor's office anymore. It took so much out of her, as she can barely walk from the apartment to the car on the driveway, and she was very pale, clammy and in terrible shape by the time we arrived there. They (hospice) provide all her medications, and any supplies we need, including hospital bed, wheelchair, etc. should we need them. Medicare takes care of all of it.

It's been a busy week, with all the new personnel filing in to do their evaluations or duties - Rn's, Certified Nurse Assistants, a Social Worker and a Chaplain. Once established, they will come by on certain days, so it will settle down, eventually.

The first day the nurse came for the initial paperwork, I answered all of her questions, etc. - explaining that Mommy has just been laying in bed, barely eating and unable to get around. Just like when you tell your sick child, "Yes, you are too sick to go to school. You can stay home." and they start to watch TV or playing video games, like they feel fine; when we walking into the apartment, Mommy was sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine - totally, it appeared, belying what I had just told them her condition was. The nurse seemed to understand that there are good days and bad - she just happened to hit us on a good one.

The nurse assistant (Sherry) came and bathed her - starting with a sponge bath only, this time, but she also trimmed her toenails and fingernails. Thus she was all ready for her subsequent visits from the RN (Nicole) and Chaplain (Brother Tony). She looked very surprised to have this parade of company, but didn't let on to them that she didn't know why they were here.

It will take both of us some time to get used to this help - we're not used to having it (except for Linda, and Linda and Herman's help this summer). I think it is welcome, on both our parts.

We will see... and keep you all up to date on Mommy's condition.

What a Catch!

As hot as it always was in the summer, we were always dying to have a pool to cool off in.

I think Mommy and Daddy even considered a built-in (or in-ground) pool, but brushed aside the idea, probably because of the cost.

They did, however, decide to get an above-ground pool, when they found a great deal at a sporting goods store called Bacon & Edwards. The pool was "used" to say the very least - filled with crayfish and other fish - and on display in the fishing section of the store. Daddy made a deal for the pool, fish and all!

The pool liner, sides and fittings were loaded into the back of Daddy's old truck, along with chests of live fish and crayfish in water.

The boys strung up the fish to take this epic photo and document their "catch". Of course, then they had to clean them... Mommy boiled the crawdads (some still trying to escape at the last second), and work began to set up the pool.

We had to level the ground (the area that would now be in back of the barn), fill in with sand and set up the pump and filter assembly, and the ladder, fill with water, and viola' - we had a swimming pool!

The boys and Linda taught Marty and I to swim underwater in the safety of our own pool (after a failed attempt to learn in the Municipal Pool at the fairgrounds with an instructor that taught with the old sink-or-swim method).

We also had the best whirlpools in there. We all formed a line around the edges and began to move around and around, until the water was going so good that it just swept you off of your feet and you were powerless to fight the pull of the whirlpool. Great fun, but Daddy discouraged this, as he felt it put too much pressure on the sides.

I don't remember how long the pool lasted, but it was cool and fun while it did!

Carl's "Piggy Party"

August birthdays are HOT, so they have to be celebrated in a cool way. For Carl's birthday (his 4th?) we went to Ford Park to eat watermelon -decorated with marshmallows to look like a pig-- his "piggy party".

It was going to be a happy day. Kelly Ellis from next door, and Flynn and Brett Mauthe, also neighbors, were going to come with us to the park.

As we readied the "pig"- sticking the marshmallow "nose, ears, eyes and tail" on with toothpicks, a strange truck pulled into the driveway. Two men emerged and one asked Mommy, "Do you have a dog?"

Mommy said later, that if she had been thinking, she would have brought out Alice (our chihuahua), but she honestly said, "Yes" and we brought Gerda out.

I guess we all knew why they were there, Gerda had bitten Jeff Whitfield.

Anyone who knew Jeff, knew that no one deserved more to be bitten! He was our local juvenile delinquent. He had, as one of Mommy's Cub Scout den members, taken our tricycle out into the channel and left it, so that we had to wade in to retrieve it. He later (years after the biting incident) stole Herman's bike (a very expensive 10 or 12-speed) from our carport. He was an all-around "bad-egg".

Of course, the sight of the dog-catcher's truck attracted neighborhood curiosity, so in the small crowd that had gathered, Mrs. Mauthe loudly remarked, "What a rotten thing to do to a little boy on his birthday!" as the handlers marched a confused and humiliated Gerda to their truck and locked her in the cage.

We all watched helplessly, with Gerda looking at us pleadingly for help, as they drove away.

Poor Gerda. She had only done what her instinct (and apparent good judgement of character) had told her to do - bite Jeff. Now, she had to serve 10 days incarceration for "observation" to make sure she didn't have rabies - despite the fact that her immunizations were up to date.

With Carl's digging companion (he would say "Dig, dig, Gerda" and she would dig until he got her to stop - Grandpa Pretzer would then go around the yard with a shovel, filling in the holes and saying, "Damn dog.") headed to the "big house", it was hard to feel very much like partying, but we had to do it for Carly.

We did end up having a nice party. Carl was happy despite all that had transpired, and Gerda was none the worse for her stay in dog-prison, but it was one of those days that will live on in infamy - "Remember the Alamo"... "Remember Pearl Harbor"... Remember the Piggy Party!

A Spoonful of Sugar...

In the Mary Poppins movie, Mary gives the children flavored cod-liver oil, while singing "Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down..."

I don't know about the benefits of cod-liver oil, but the sugar part is true.

In the 60s, we were given polio vaccine on sugar cubes.

We lined up at a school (Hillsdale, maybe?) cafeteria, and after the proper paperwork was filled out, we filed past the tables lined with large trays of sugar cubes with the vaccine soaked into them, and took one.

The sugar cube, very stiff at first, soon gave way to grainy crystals, then syrupy sweetness. To us, who rarely had candy (pity us), it was a sweet treat. One of which, like Lays Potato Chips, "no one could eat just one". Fred somehow sneaked back into the line and got some more of the cubes, which we promptly popped in our mouths, like candy.

To this day, I don't know if we doubled up our dose of vaccine (which was the live strain), or if we just got plain sugar cubes... I do know that we never got polio.

Coffee Break

I remember some mornings, after the big kids were off to school, when Mommy and I would go across the street (Laguna Lane) to have coffee with Mrs. Parker - Mommy drank hers black, and mine was milk with a little bit of sugar and coffee, or cafe au lait.

It was very civilized, sharing a cup of coffee and maybe some coffee cake, and spending a pleasant hour and some neighborly conversation - just like a Folger's commercial, but without Mrs. Olsen barging in.

The Parker's son was named Alton, but for some reason (I believe having to do with an incident on a Boy Scout campout), the boys called him "SALVO" - which was a product, little packets of detergent, for washing clothes.

The ditch in front of their house was a gathering spot for we neighbor kids- it was steep enough to be a great "mountain" for playing King of the Mountain.

We enjoyed our time of having the Parkers as neighbors - and missed them, especially after they moved away and the Montgomerys moved in.

They were a rough bunch - with drunken fights and lots of drama. Marty and I sometimes had to babysit their grandchildren, and it was always a creepy feeling over there.

The next people to live there, in my recollection, were the "Jones girls" - as Mommy always called them. The "girls" consisted of mother and daughter, but they both seemed very old to me, like in their 70s and 90s.

One day they were burning off the yard and it got out of hand. We had to go over and beat back the flames, because they hadn't watched it closely enough, nor taken any safety precautions (like having a hose or bucket of water standing nearby).

Mommy had to perform CPR on one of them one day, and later had to call the coroner to check on the cause of death.

Randy Cason was the next to live there. His family lived down Laguna in their house, built on our old baseball field, between the Benson's and the Murray's. He was killed (in a motorcycle wreck) and the house, now in disrepair was eventually torn down.

Worth Getting Up For

Today, while announcing that I had brought Mommy her breakfast, I told her, "Here is some breakfast; scrambled eggs, some clementine sections and a chocolate-covered honey bun."

Of course, I had to repeat what I had brought, holding up the honey bun.

"Chocolate? Now that's worth getting up for!"

My sentiments, exactly (wonder where I get that from?).

It's just like the little sign -that she got one year for her birthday from Ruth, Amy's mom, who shares the same passion for chocolate - we have displayed by her stove,

"CHOCOLATE: not just for breakfast anymore"

*Sending out prayers for Ruth and all of her family as she struggles for breath, with stage 4 lung cancer. May her suffering be eased.

Drink Something!

The view from St. Francis Medical Center, room 632.

Mommy was dehydrated at her doctor's appointment, so he put her in the hospital overnight to have IV hydration (with potassium chloride, to raise her potassium - which keeps dropping, as does her blood pressure and weight).

When I pulled up to the front door, we loaded Mommy into a wheelchair. I asked if they still have valet parking? "You have to be 55." I said, "Well, I'm 53 and she's 84, it averages out to both of us being over 55."

It (the hospital stay) was a wild ride - of course since fluid was going in, she had to get up 11 times throughout the night to go to the bathroom.

She was able to sleep a good bit, between bathroom trips, but I couldn't. Whenever she needed to go, she would just start climbing over the bed rails, so I had to be awake to nip that behavior in the bud! She couldn't remember she was in the hospital, so the IV was always an annoying surprise...

Her: Why do I have this?

Me: It's an IV, because you were dehydrated.

Her: GOOD GRIEF! Why don't I just drink something?!

When they put the FALL RISK bracelet on, she said, "What's that for?"

Me: So you don't fall.

Her: How's that gonna stop me?

So, even though she didn't know who I was... and said each time she saw me, "Oh, hello. Did you just get here?"... she was still cracking jokes.

Since we got home, she has been fairly chipper, and appears to be feeling pretty good. Linda came over to take care of her for a while, and let me sleep. (Thanks Linda!)

Worms!

Worm's Hilltop Inn - Home of the Lazy Susans

A restaurant, you would think, would always have a name that made people want to eat there. "Worms" was not one of those places.

I was filled with dread and suffering from a queasy stomach, as we were loaded into the old Buick station wagon, to go out to eat at a place that was called "Worms". Daddy assured me that my worst possible fears were to be realized... we were going to eat worms! "Don't worry, you'll like them!" he encouraged me with a smile. I was either 3 or 4 years old at the time.

I tried to hide from the inevitable slimy, disgusting meal by scrunching down onto the floor of the car. I knew I would have to eat it- it was the 60s and your parents were supposed to make you eat everything on your plate, something Daddy adhered to, religiously.

Would they be cooked? or crawling all over the plate?

It was an all too short drive down South Lakeshore to Worm's Hilltop Inn. I reluctantly disembarked from the car and trudged, like the condemned, to my awaited fate.

I don't know at what point I began to see that I had, thankfully, been deceived and that we were, in fact NOT eating worms, but fried chicken and fish and all the fixin's. We were led to sit at a large round table with, oddly enough, another round surface in the middle of it.

When our food was brought to the table, it was served "family style"- which was pretty much the only way we knew how to eat. The mashed potatoes, coleslaw, rolls, chicken and a large pitcher of milk were put on the inner surface of the table. We were delighted to find that the inner circle - called a lazy susan- spun around so that each item eventually made its way to you - much more entertaining than our usual "take some and pass it to the left" method.

The food was good and the lazy susan was so much fun that I almost could have forgotten the trauma of thinking we were going to be eating actual worms - almost...

Gardner's Landing

Ad from the 1940's ~ "Come spend your vacation with us... "

56 good boats to serve you...

Ice - Bait of all kinds - Towing service

10 Modern Cabins with Light, Bath and Indoor Toilets

Innerspring Mattresses

~~~~~~~~~

Used to be, when we drove on South Lakeshore Drive, that every bridge out by our house was occupied by several people fishing. You had to be careful not to have your car hit by a cane pole being whipped backwards to either cast-out, or bringing in a lucky catch. Fishermen lined the roadside - standing, or sitting on an overturned bucket, or on the bank- whether for sport or for food, Cross Lake was a fisherman's paradise.

Down the road and over the bridge, just past our house, was a place called Gardner's Landing.
It had covered boat stalls, boats for rent, fishing supplies and a bait shop, a cafe, and, across the street, cabins that were available for rental.

Marty and I were friends with Rachel, whose parents ran the place. They lived in one of the cabins, and while her dad ran the bait shop and boat rental, her mom ran the grill and worked the counter at the cafe.

Rachel was the one who showed Marty and I that if we walked on the lip (the concrete footings for the bridge - dirt covered and about 10 inches wide) along the walls underneath the bridge by the channel, we could "cross" the street (South Lakeshore) from the "safety" - mind you, we couldn't swim, and would have met with certain disaster had we slipped and fallen- of going under the bridge! I'm pretty sure, Mommy never knew about that.

So, we walked down to the channel - via the empty wooded lot (later the Ellis's yard), went under the bridge, and back up to the roadside on the opposite side to the Gardner's Landing side. We still had to walk on the road across the bridge, but at least we hadn't crossed the road!

We played among the boat stalls, visited the bait shop and went inside the cool (air conditioned!) dark cafe. Booths lined the walls and a counter with stools provided the seating and eating area. A large red chest Coke dispenser sat in the corner. You lifted the lid, inserted the coins, then slid the cola, suspended by the lip of the bottle on two tracks, until it reached the end where you could retrieve it, pop the top on the opener in the side of the chest, and enjoy the cooling refreshment.

It was rare for us to have the money to do so, but perhaps Rachel's mom "treated" us to one.

[A friend I made later in 6th grade, Robin Pyle, reminded me that there was a hitching post in front of the cafe, so that she and her sister could come on their horses to get a burger, and her mother would come by later to pay for their food tab.]

I can remember scuffing across the dirt and gravel parking lot and trudging back home, in the heat of the day, staring down at my faded red "hoppers" (now called flip flops), feeling that it was such a long, hot way to go to get home.

One event stands out besides my memories of playing with Rachel, there - a record size catfish was caught in the lake, I mean a monster of a fish! I remember it being about 6 feet long (though I could be wrong, since I was still very young). That was an amazing event, and people were gathered around from miles away as the news of its capture spread. Someone who came to see it, drove a fancy Cadillac, which had a TV inside it and an antenna on the outside of the trunk. This was equally amazing as the huge fish, to me! (this was back in the 60's!)

Rachel's family moved away, and Gardner's lost it's appeal as it's business faded. The cabins became overgrown, until we almost forgot they existed, and the area in front of them became a prime blackberry patch instead.

Eventually the bait shop, cafe and covered boat berths were torn down, and the landing became a drug hang-out.

Years later, when Carl was in high school or college, a movie company came to town to make a horror movie using the cabins. It used other familiar sites about town, Tooter's Lounge at the corner of Curtis Lane and Greenwood Road, for one. Carl and Josh got to watch them "make it rain" with hoses and black visqueen - every scary movie worth its salt has a rainy-night scene, after all. It was definitely bound for B-moviedom with it's largely unknown actors (though some are at least familiar) and it's slasher and gross methods of death - a different one for each cabin, dealt by a mad person? - I don't want to spoil it for all of you that are going to run out and buy it! (It is called Mountaintop Motel Massacre and there is a trailer of it available for your viewing pleasure on YouTube - if you feel so inclined).

It is quite amusing to see and think about it taking place there on the"mountaintop" across the channel from the Ellis's house... to remember the long hot summer days spent playing with Rachel and the place known to us as Gardner's Landing.

Longing for Sleep

I was going to come back and write a more coherent entry, but decided that this demonstrates more accurately the sleep deprivation and stress that Mommy's failing health is having on her - and on me.

Bp 102/46, bpm 82... not doing well

too tired to stay awake- had to sleep for a change (me)

(She)used the trashcan in kitchen for toilet- sorta

(I) cannot get her to drink enough
She asked for lemonade, so made some kool aid and she is drinking it! hooray!
(She) slept all night!! Of course, I couldn't, cause didn't know she'd stay asleep

Party Line

In the movie "Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation", amidst everything else going wrong, Mr. Hobbs (played by Jimmy Stewart) finds that the phone in their rented Victorian beach house is on a party line. Every time he picks up the receiver to make a call, he hears snatches of conversations in which a woman is talking endlessly about operations and medical problems.

In another movie, "Pillow Talk", Doris Day and Rock Hudson share a party line, as well. The entire plot revolves around overheard conversations, the conflicts caused by having to share the phone line, and eventually -it is a Doris Day and Rock Hudson movie, after all - falling in love... of course.

Both of these movies harken to a time back in the 60's, when we had what is called a "party line" (short for multi-party line) for our phone. That is, we shared our phone line with two other households. Our party line was shared by Mrs. Singer, the Bicknell's, and us. When the phone rang, you listened for the ring pattern to determine whose call it was: two short rings, one long ring, or one short and one long (I can't remember for certain which ours was), then answered accordingly. If one line was busy, everyone's line was busy... and if you picked up the phone to check if the line was free, you heard bits of conversations... or you could listen to entire conversations, if you were so inclined, and even join in.

Mrs. Singer got a call or called her sister everyday at around 9 am. They had long, gossipy calls that lasted, seemingly, forever. If you happened to be on the phone during what she deemed as "her time", she would pick-up and hang-up repeatedly (you heard the click, and could usually her breathing or an odd "hrumph" or two). If you didn't take the hint soon enough, i.e., immediately get off the phone, she would just interrupt you and say, "I need to use the phone!" We had to reply politely, "I'll be finished in just a moment" and wrap up our conversation.

Mrs. Bicknell had similarly long phone calls to friends or family (generally after or during "As the World Turns" to discuss Peggy and her "unfortunate situation"), but was generally less rude.

I'm sure it was no picnic for them to share a phone line with a large family - especially as we entered the teen years, and our necessity for phone conversations increased.

We had the party line well into the 70's, I believe. When we got our private line, it was an occasion for celebration. (I'm sure Mrs. Singer and the Bicknell's celebrated, too.)

Now there was no need to ponder for whom the phone rings? It rings for us!

Spic and Span

~The Martins~

Cynthia Martin and her family lived down Laguna (in the house on the left, after the wooded lot). Mrs. Martin was an artist, and there was always a large easel with some colorful abstract looking piece of art-in-progress in the room off of the kitchen. In the event that she was painting, her perfect capri-pants outfit was covered with a large artist's smock. When we saw Mr. Martin, he reminded us of Dennis the Menace's father, Mr. Mitchell - same slim build, dark hair and glasses. Cynthia had long straight blonde hair which she usually wore back in a ponytail with a plastic headband smoothing back the front.

To say that their house was clean, was an understatement - sanitized is more like it. So clean, in fact, that when her hamsters kept dying, Mommy suggested that it was too clean.

This super cleanliness, however, did not extend to Cynthia's closet. Marty and I once went to help her clean it out, and it looked like it had exploded all over the room.

Every time I tagged along with Marty to go play there, I felt like her mother looked at me like I was a gutter-snipe from a Dickens novel. Perhaps my constant runny nose had something to do with that?

When Mommy was pregnant with Carl, I told Marty and Cynthia that I hoped it was a boy, because "a girl would want to tag along everywhere with me". No sooner was this statement out of my mouth, and Cynthia was pointedly looking at me, did I realize that was what I did!- Uh, oh!

Cynthia handed down the dress, yellow with black thread smocking, that Marty and I each wore in our first grade pictures (it was a little well-worn by the time I got it, as evidenced by the rip in the collar).

The Martins also had a baby boy, and soon moved away.

The next family to move into the "Martin's house" had two boys - the Murrays.

Mr. Murray worked for SWEPCO (our power company), so was the go-to guy when the power went out. We knew that if ours was out, so was his, and he would be making sure that they were working on getting it back on.

They had a great New Years party on their back patio for we neighborhood kids, complete with "crackers" (the rolled paper tubes that CRACKED when you pulled them apart) filled with confetti. For Halloween they had a cotton candy machine set up and handed out bags of the sweet, colored confection.

Some other excitement was provided when Mr. Murray, while mowing their sloping side yard, slipped under the mower and cut off his toe. He was rushed to the hospital, and a search party was established to "find his toe". The toe was located and was taken to the hospital as well.

Some years later, his son, Mike (a very quiet boy that we never really got to know well) provided some excitement for the neighborhood, himself.

Mike had done some time in jail (for a white collar crime- early computer hacking, so he seemed fairly harmless otherwise), and after his parents' deaths lived in the house.

He got involved in a love-triangle with a girl in his church Sunday School class and her other boyfriend. He went to confront the boyfriend, killed him, chopped him up and put him in a burn-barrel on some property the family had in the country, and burned the remains.

As Mommy sat, unawares in the living room reading the paper one quiet Sunday afternoon, State Troopers and Sheriff's deputies with guns drawn, were in a stand-off with an evasive Mike.

~Before they arrived, he had been burning something in his backyard (probably his bloodied clothes from the murder)- neighbors had remarked that they were excited to see smoke coming from his burn barrel, maybe he was finally cleaning up the yard!~

His escape was foiled and he was taken away.

Another ordinary day on Laguna Lane.

Meet the Neighbors

Over the period of years that we lived at 7205 South Lakeshore Drive, we had some interesting (to put it mildly) neighbors. This is my faithful accounting of some of the more colorful ones over the years:

~I will have to begin with the house directly across the street, the one you see from the kitchen and the large front window.

The first neighbor to live there, in my recollection, was a young girl, with short brown hair, named Bobbie. She lived there with her mother and an "aunt" or two. In all the times we went over to play, I barely remember seeing an adult.

She had a big German Shepherd named King. He frightened me, always "biting" me - though I came to realize that he was really just holding my hand in his mouth, the hurt came when I tried to pull it away. We played, for a time, in the storage shed in the backyard. We had to climb up a built-in ladder, straight up, then hoist ourselves onto the floor of the attic. One time Marty was climbing up and lost her foothold and fell - King moved underneath her to soften her fall - so he really was a good dog, after all.

As the house was on the lake, they had a pier with a boat house, and one of those little sheds where you stored fishing poles, paddles, and other gear. Bobbie had seen the movie "The Hand", and told us that the Hand (dismembered) was in that shed and was going to try to "get" us, if it got out! *shudder* I was quite afraid of that shed after that.

Inside the house, at the front door, there was a half-wall that partitioned off the entry from the "formal living room" - a truly foreign concept to us - which had a little Buddah statue that Bobbie told us would make us lucky if we rubbed his belly. The kitchen was off to the right and had little built-in bench type seats and a table. We played Monopoly, go fish and jacks in the kitchen or in the den - a large room with windows galore, facing the lake. A large platform bed was in one corner of the room, and the rest was modern den-type furnishings. We listened to alot of Alvin and the Chipmunk records in that room. The remainder of the house was two or maybe three (Bobbie had to sleep somewhere) bedrooms with large closets (filled with beautiful clothes, gowns and furs) and a fancy dressing room type bathroom with a large mirror and lights, and a couple of head-forms that sported wigs of various colors and hairstyles and fancy makeup and perfumes and jewels. Bobbie often talked about new "uncles" that were coming over.

Several times Bobbie's mother would ask our mother if she could watch Bobbie for a while - usually resulting in one, or several nights of her sleeping over, because her mother would fail to return at the appointed time. Since she left Bobbie with no change of clothes, I remember Mommy having to rinse out her clothes, so that she could wear them again. I also remember Bobbie announcing on one of her first nights sleeping over that she "wet the bed at night", so that added to Mom's work load as well.

I'm not sure of the time frame, but I know that one of the "aunts" made off with all of the jewels, furs and Bobbie's mother's car. Eventually, Bobbie and her mother moved away.

One day several men drove into our driveway in a big black car. They all wore suits and ties and knocked on the door. They wanted to speak to Mommy and Daddy, and we were all shooed out of the house. Someone had overheard that they were the FBI. This piqued our interest, so we "stealthily" cupped our hands and pressed our faces up to the windows to see inside, and tried to see what was going on. They sat in the den, talking to Mommy and Daddy, and frankly, it looked a little bit boring - no guns drawn or anything.

After they left, and sometime later, it was revealed to us that Bobbie's mother and "aunts" worked at a club (and out of their house, apparently) as strippers and prostitutes for someone called Jack Ruby. The FBI was asking about them, because of something else he did - murdering Lee Harvey Oswald. ~ So there you have it: our tie to the Kennedy Conspiracy. ~

~ to be continued ~

The Time Has Come...

I took Mommy to the doctor yesterday, for her regularly scheduled check up.

We had the usual difficulty waking up in the morning (the middle of the night to her). She wanted to sleep, but I had to force her out of bed, try to get her to eat, and get her clean and dressed, so we could get there in time. We barely made it, with bathroom delays and lack of cooperation issues - the snail-like pace of her walking didn't help either- though I had carved out over 3 hours to get her ready and an hour for travel and arrival time... "the best laid plans..." and all.

When we did get into the office, we had to make our usual "mad dash" straight to the bathroom - which, as per usual was unsuccessful (in making it in time). So, after cleaning up, the nurse and staff were waiting on us.

Mommy was complaining of feeling "lousy" all morning. (I told her that it was a good thing she was going to see the doctor then.) By the time we were coming out of the bathroom, she was very pale and clammy, and feeling worse. They got her in a wheelchair and took her to a room, right away. Her blood pressure was low - the only remarkable finding, other than her appearance. The doctor asked a few questions about getting enough fluids, etc. Then he said that he thought it might be time for Home Health.

I was at once relieved - I was going to ask about that, anyway- and sad - it has gotten to that point where my care alone may not be enough.

He asked if she had any kind of directive - did she want to be hooked up on a ventilator? - and I told him that we have a DNR (do not resuscitate) order that she signed years ago. He also ordered lab work and a chest x-ray (it was time for all of these to be done anyway, but she had been "a little warm" for a couple of days prior, so we suspected a urinary tract infection). We went immediately to have those done - where we once again took advantage of the wheelchair they offered (wonderful! - so much easier to get her around).

The nurse called when we were headed home, and said that her potassium was low, and they were ordering a couple days' doses of it.

The Home Health representative and a nurse came by, yesterday, to fill out all of the paperwork, and take her vitals and weigh her. She has lost a little bit of weight - significant for her size - so that concerns me, but doesn't surprise me - she hasn't had much of an appetite. They questioned her - How many children did she have?-no idea- What is your name?- don't know right now.

*By evening, she was busy planning a family get together that she thought was going on- "Fred and the others are here already."- and asking me about what we were going to feed them.*

Today (2 days post doctor's visit) they will come to draw a potassium level, and we are still trying to get a clean-catch urine sample.

This is all very convenient, and hopefully will give her the more intensive type care that she needs, now. I think the plan is for them to come once a week, unless needed more often.

So, I guess - as I knew it would inevitably happen - the time has come for a new phase in caring for her.

The Summer of '46

By the fire: Margaret, Jessie, Johnny, Angie, Bona and Onalee
Onalee, Angie, Bona, Margaret and Jessie - unknown fellas
Johnny, Angie, Bona, Margaret and Onalee
Margaret on a horse

Johnny, Angie and Margaret
Angie, Bona, Jessie, Onalee and Margaret

In the summer of 1946, Margaret and friends - co-workers at Dow Chemical, went on a vacation to Van Etta Lake in Oscoda, Michigan.

Her photos of the trip recorded moments in time... fun in the sun, horseback riding, and a campfire on the beach. World War II had ended just the year before, and the future lay ahead, full of possibilities.

Dark Specter

Bad night last night.

Mommy kept throwing things. She threw everything that was on the coffee table across the room. Then later, she threw boxes and cards from her bed headboard, toward the living room. She doesn't say why, or even seem to know that she has done so. "Did I?"

One time she said it was what "the guy that used to be in here" with her did. She was very agitated and breathing out rapidly and forcefully, like she had just been doing something very physical or was very frightened. She was also irritated at the show on television because it seemed "pointless". She wanted to "bean (her expression for knock on the head) him with this cup!" (her tea mug)

I've come into the apartment another time when she was throwing slippers and the phone receiver at "that black creature". When he is there, she begs me to take her out of here. He is tall, and makes a chopping motion with his arm - very frightening. He comes in there fairly regularly, lately.

As I stood at the end of her bed, asking her about him, she told me, "He's behind you right now." I turned and made a sweeping motion, like erasing a blackboard, and told him, "Go Away! You're scaring her!" Then, he was gone.

Of course, by the description, I can't help but think of the image of the Grim Reaper, or the Angel of Death. A personification of Fear - of death. Or a Messenger with a message that she is afraid of, or doesn't yet want to hear.

Is her mind making her see things, or is she able to see what we cannot? If the angels that watch over her from above, with "bright hair" are there - could he be, too?

I can certainly feel "his" presence when she is so frail and failing, but I pray that when the time comes he will not be scary- only comforting, and the bright haired angels will be there to light the way and welcome her into Heaven.

Happy June-teenth!

Until Mommy worked at Confederate (Memorial Hospital), we had never heard of Juneteenth before. It came to her attention, because it was a State holiday, and since it occurred on her birthday - June 19th, she got the day off.

June 19th or Juneteenth celebrates Emancipation Day in the state of Texas. Also called Freedom Day, it is celebrated with parades, family gatherings and watermelon - much the way we have always celebrated Mommy's birthday - with the addition of chocolate cake of some sort, of course.

This year's celebration will be very low-key. Linda and Melissa are coming over, and I am trying to get her ready, in preparation for their visit.

Mommy doesn't have much interest in getting out of bed - and we are saddened by continued spiraling downward.

Failed communication among other things are frustrating for both of us, and we often throw our hands up in surrender, but we eventually press on... wishing that emancipation from the slavery of her dementia would be declared, and a new Juneteenth Day of Freedom could be celebrated.

Happy 84th Birthday, Mommy!

Road Trip!

Mommy on the carousel at Six Flags Over Texas 1963.

Daddy, Mommy, Herman, Fred (the Converse tennis shoes), Me (between Herman and Daddy) and Marty (peeking over my head) at Six Flags Over Texas 1963.

(picture taken by Linda)

*****

In the summer of 1963, Daddy decided to take the family on a mini-vacation to Six Flags Over Texas, in Arlington.

In preparation for this excursion, he laid out a few ground rules. The only one I took note of was the "no toys" rule. We were allowed to bring only a pillow, as we would be leaving at the crack-of-dawn (as per the usual Daddy Rules of the Road: Get on the road at the earliest possible time.)

I don't know that Marty and I had planned to take any toys in the car, but the mere mention of them, and the fact that they were banished to staying home, alone and sad, while we visited a fantasy-land, made their presence on this adventure an absolute necessity! We had to figure out a way...

Suddenly, it came to me. The stuffed animals would not have to languish at home, but could come with us, after all!

We surreptitiously removed the unnecessary pillow from the pillow case, and filled it with the forbidden stuffed animals!

We slept soundly, reassured that our plan would be a success.

Mommy used to say of Daddy that "for someone in Intelligence, he sure didn't know what was going on."

We were loaded into the back deck of the station wagon, lumpy pillows and all, to sleep until we were nearer our destination.

After an appropriate time (in which we deemed it "too far to turn around") our contraband was revealed. We released our pals from their hiding place, and the good times ensued.

We really did have a good time at Six Flags. We rode the many rides. The carousel was first, and we were delighted when Daddy and Mommy joined us on the rides.

I remember Daddy (after observing others for a bit) advised Mommy that she would get less wet on the log ride if she was in front- what a kidder! I think she ducked enough to be sure that he, behind her, got his share of the final splash!

We watched some song and dance show in a "bar" - drinking root beer, or as they put it "sarsaparilla".

At the petting zoo, I underwent the trauma of having a baby goat suck on my dress.

I was a nervous wreck when we were going to ride in the cars. I didn't understand that they were on a track, and that it wasn't like I would really be driving a car. I just felt like it was too much of a responsibility for one five year old to handle! Marty was going with Mommy, and I was to go with Daddy. The big kids seemed happy and carefree about it- did they not sense our impending doom? I had worked myself up so much that, as our turn approached, I think I begged Daddy not to make me drive. So, he ended up driving our car, all the while pointing out, "See, nothing to it", but I was not convinced.

We rode a few of the kiddie rides, or watched the "big kids" ride theirs.

At the end of a long day, we returned to our waiting friends in the car, and were quickly lulled to sleep on our lumpy "pillows", by the rhythmic sounds of the station wagon's tires on the long road home.

My, oh, my! Blueberry Pie

Does anyone remember the book, Blueberries for Sal? It is a lovely children's book, by Robert McCloskey, with blue and yellow colored cover art, as well as black and white illustrations. From 1948, it's nostalgic scenes of the family car, Sal and her mom in the kitchen, and picking berries on the hill (*spoiler alert* - Sal gets separated from her mom, and at the same time, a bear cub is also separated from its mom - nobody gets eaten, except the blueberries), remind one of a simpler time.

It also reminds me that I love blueberry cobbler, but my family doesn't. Every now and then, I have to make some, preferably when other people will be around to eat it.


I get both fresh blueberries (from the grocery store, usually, though there is a blueberry farm nearby, that allows you to pick-your-own, that I would like to try) and canned blueberry pie filling, with yellow cake mix and a stick of butter cut up over it. It is superb, warm and bubbly from the oven, with a little Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla Ice Cream over it.


I remember a time when I couldn't have all the blueberry cobbler or pie that I wanted. Nobody could. A time when there was just enough for everyone to get one piece... and that one piece was like a sacred right that no bond, even blood, could break.


~*~
It was a hot summer night. A night so hot, that tempers could flare up to the surface just like molten oatmeal in a pan on the stove - calm on the surface, until it suddenly bursts forth in a violent eruption.

Linda, for whatever reason, had not eaten her pie... her blueberry pie. Suddenly, like a dog in search of a flea to scratch, she had an overwhelmingly compelling need to seek out and consume her rightful dessert.

All that stood between her and the purple, golden-crusted confection, was the secret of its location, and a younger sibling, Herman.

When she could not immediately locate the object of her desire, *she lashed out, first with an accusation, "You ate my blueberry pie!"

He innocently replied, "No, I didn't, " then without warning, the maligned grabbed a section of the formerly hidden, stain-producing fruit concoction, and defensively smeared it on his accuser's new white blouse, "here's your PIE!"

She reached for the only weapon available to her, the implement with which she had chosen to use to consume her pie, her fork!

In a movement, that brought to mind the shower scene of "Psycho", she lashed out - the glint of the cold steel catching the light, momentarily blinding its intended victim- and stabbed him in the arm!

A stunned silence transformed the room to an almost church-like hush, with undercurrents of panic and remorse.

Like a woodsman's axe at rest, the fork stuck out of Herman's forearm. We all stood transfixed by the carnage... shocked at the violent attack - red blood, white shirt, and blue berry stains.
~~~

*Not surprisingly, this is not the "version" that Linda remembers.

Some might say that my version is a wee bit melodramatic and historically inaccurate. I say, let the facts speak for themselves: She was wearing a white blouse. Blueberry pie residue was found on the said shirt. A fork was sticking out of Herman's arm.

So, if you find yourself in a blue(berry) mood, eat some pie... but use a spoon! ; )