The Long Way Home

These days I take the long way home, meaning that I am there every day. I am there in the house I grew up in. The clutter is the same, the books are still falling off the shelves and my parents exist in the same intellectual Bohemian comfortable debris they always have.

but now my dad no longer cooks. My brother and I make supper. I clean up and wash the dishes. Sometimes I try to clear an area, but more often my mother simply needs me to hold her on the couch.

It is a long way home now. Chores, medications, bathing, diapering, cares, concerns, doctor appointments and the emotional realities that slowly settle in.

I take a long hard look and settle into the comfortable disarray without trying to change it.

It is a long way home from what I knew before...yet I get there.

After the Bath

Dad's hair is wild and unkempt. He is unshaven and needs a bath. He has always taken great care in particular with his mane of hair. Wild root hair oil is his favorite.
Last week he received the first haircut I have even given anyone. It was hard, but his big white mane of hair had gotten out of control. So I clipped away.

I told him we would shave and bath. I was apprehensive about bathing my dad for the first time, but figured I could do it.

We went upstairs. There were not any new razors so I made do by cleaning the old ones with an old toothbrush. Dad lathered up the soap and lathered his face....deftly from years of experience. I lined up the razors on the sink and he started shaving. It goes pretty well and soon his clear jar line and handsome face appeared out of the scrubble of the grey beard.I help a little bit, but he knows what to do and moves ahead.And soon, there he is, all shaved and clean in the face. His handsomeness showing through again.

I ask him if he wants a bath.I draw the water, but do not have my sketchbook or camera to record this tender moment. Fragile and vulnerable. It is an intimate moment for both of us and we jump over our self consciousness well...it's not easy, but it is necessary.
He smiles as I spray the water on his head. He washes his hair. He washes all parts of his body. Praising me for being able to help him in this way. Gone is the gruff anger I have known.He is happy to be helped.
. Somehow this is healing and helpful.
I see the bulge of the pacemaker in his chest.Life depends on that and his medications and I suppose on nurturing moments like this as well.....
He lays there in the tub in his vulnerability. Laying in the water...He philosophizes and muses as I hand him soap and a washcloth.

I assist him out of the bath and find clean clothes for him to wear. Clean socks are the hardest, but I find some.

He puts on his diaper, the long underwear, his socks, and pants, with belt. Then his two shirts, buttoning them carefully. Then he brushes his hair. I blow dry it a bit and he is all ready. Clean and ready for supper. He carefully goes downstairs.He sits on the couch, radiant and happy to be clean again.

The Clay Hanukiah

Darkness falls. Another winter storm is predicted..We wait...

It is the second night of Hanukah and I have stuffed my precious triangular box of Hanukah candles into the purple cotton bag that also holds my new rubber ice grippers that slip onto my shoes.

I guess I am ready for winter. I take one determined walk around the block..just as dusk is falling. There is slick ice everywhere already. I walk, hearing the click click, click of my ice grippers on the pavement. I round the corner from the alley and then another one.. I do not fall.I try out the ice grippers on Real Ice. They work, I do not fall....I keep walking..Click, click, click.

Back home we eat supper. I search for one of the many menorah's that I know must be around the house somewhere...in vain...nothing turns up.Then.... I see a clay face..it is a grimace really. I turn it over and use its hollowed out back side for our menorah.

After all, it is the perfect one. Yes, this sad face is really my sad face turned upside down....sadly sad...it is the face that watches my parents grow old..

...and yet in the light of the blue candles there is a peacefulness....a calm...we share some news of our day...my prayer wafts over the steady flames..and a feeling of brief tranquility resides....

The candles burn low in the upside down face.........then my mother worries and complains, I get crabby. My father is tired and feels very constipated...Before I leave I run all over the house looking for his laxative remedy...hoping it will work.

the little candles have burned down...my sad face remains..inwardly and outwardly..
and yet..there is the remaining sense of calm left.....a layer of spiritual light lingers as we face our problems and I go to drive home in the cold on icy streets.

That Viennese Music

That Viennese Music

Oh how it comes out of nowhere, just as we are driving back from Arden Hills to see the doctor....it drifts and suddenly swirls around us..taking us to that higher place..

anywhere but here..going west on 26th street to Lyndale in south Minneapolis...away from the news that my mother's white blood cell count is getting higher by one point since last week...
We drive right by the Urology place where she was diagnosed with a tumor last April...the music lifts us up and safely takes us back to Vienna where she grew up..where this music was the commonplace of everyday life.

I stop outside the coop...black birds fly off into some upper heaven, lighting briefly in the black trees..briefly..

The Viennese music is a message, a Hanuka gift perhaps from a long dead mother...a sign of some kind.

Enthralled we liston to it..as busy traffic hurries by. I cannot bear the news I have heard..it is too much...

and so the music is a gift....on the second day of Hanukah. It is a gift.

Every Day

Even though it is winter now every day is like it was before. I make it over to my parent's house to see how they are doing.

My mother is anxious and often desperate. A trail of phone calls precedes my visit there...I often feel that I do not get there soon enough.

This morning she slipped on a small rug and fell on her bottom.She is fine, but it shook her up and me as well. My husband rushed over to make sure she was okay.

Every day I call my mother.
Every day I help make supper.

Almost every day I help my mother change her diaper...It is so humbling to feel how the roles have changed.

Every day I wonder..How much longer will I have them?

every day I go see them.

Every Day Routine

I go to my parent's house every day just about. Yes, every day I make it over there about 3 or 4 o'clock. As usual my mother is sitting anxiously in the back yard awaiting my arrival. I am never early enough or on time. I feel guilty for being late, but am glad to have made it.
My dad is reading some magazine or newspaper. We talk. I fill my mother in on my day.
Then we usually take a ride.We beheld the golden sunset by the lake...a magnificent view...spectacular. It is often to Walgreen's Pharmacy to pick up a prescription, and get any number of items. Adult diapers, Ensure, vitamins, etc.I know most of the pharmacists there by name.
Then home for supper. My brother has fixed it. Tonight we had thin angel hair spaghetti, summer squash and small pizzas.
My mother is very anxious. After supper we sit on the couch watching obnoxious Wheel of Fortune. I hold her hand and often enfold her in my arms. Baby Emily, age eighty nine. Her memory has bigger holes in it lately. It bothers her and me.

Dad leans back into the couch watching TV or reading. I watch them. Then I say good bye and kiss them and hug them and kiss them again and drive off into the dark night.. It is very dark now...... I turn on the radio and let beautiful music carry me all the way home.

You'd wonder.

You'd wonder. Yes, you would wonder after all, after all these years...just how they keep on...and how you do as well.
There are lots of episodes to write about since summer ended.
We just turned back the clock. The long hours of darkness are here. Shadows slant sideways across the lawn in the late morning. I gather up what light there is in my hands and I remember. Not back across the years, or months...just the past few weeks..

I wish I had written every day...but this is enough...this...this moment...Now as darkness becomes our companion. I recall:

Emily selling books at the art crawl.
Emily's small stroke.
Dad's low pulse.
Dad to Regions.
The New Pacemaker.
Shalom Home.
Home Again.
No to the Vet's Home.
Everyday Challenges.

Senior Day Care

(photos to follow by august 6)

So, here they are, after all these years. Going off to Senior Day Care. I get up early and go over to drive them there.

First order of business, "Where are Dad's teeth?" I go upstairs and retrieve them gingerly from a Styrofoam cup where they have soaked and rested all night.

Emily stands over him as he puts them in.

We get ready, slowly to go to our Trial Day of Senior Day Care. I watch them poignantly, the way a mother would watch over her child going off to Day Care for the first time. I watch them as they come out of the house. The morning sun cast behind them...bathed in light, they are cloaked in light as they walk, somewhat unsteadily towards the car. I watch them..bathed in light...as if all their transgressions and faults and bickering were just somehow dissolved in that one moment of purity...when light envelopes them...

and then they are just walking towards the car..they get in and I drive them over..

making sure they get out just right and yes, go sit on the bench over there....while I park the car...yes..just over there..sit down....

I park the car.

and there they are...sitting on the bench..like obedient children..

We walk into the Senior Day Care. It is a caring environment...that feels nurturing and stable.

I hug them and leave them to their day..

It is a busy day for me..I rush around..from here to there and back again...and yet at one point of my day...I find myself driving past Senior Day Care place..just like any anxious parent wondering how their child is doing on their first day away..

Later, I pick them up. My dad is talking more than usual...my mother seems relaxed and happy. I hug the director...We speak briefly..

Home again. A good day after Senior Day Care.

the setting sun bathes us in a different kind of light..

Labor

It was so hot today. Sticky humidity clinging to us as we sat in the backyard doing paperwork. Paperwork for help, paperwork for Aging and Disability, and paperwork for neighborhood help. Exact boxes to check and lines to sign and date. Again and again.

So hot as we sat there, the colorful fuchsia phlox, the swaying pines all bearing witness to our sweat and our work in the shade.

How I longed to go to the beach. But duty kept me working because of the practical outcome of all the pages, the boxes and the need.

My mother. Alternately anxious and engaged, then anxious again. I look at her thin arms, her lined face and sink back into memory... I say to her. "I'll bet that time you were pregnant with me 58 years ago must have been sweaty and tough if it was as hot as this." She shrugs and says.."My pregnancies were easy, they didn't bother me."
And onto the next task of filling out papers and checking bank statements.

It is not easy to be with her when she is anxious. She says " Fill my void." I hold her hand. Just as she labored and birthed me decades ago, now I labor with her and hold her hand through the tough moments. It is not easy. Her difficult inner moments manifest and she can't be left alone. Anxious, anxious, anxious. Then a peaceful moment comes and her smile shines........like the sun breaking through clouds.

I hold her hand and labor through the difficult moments...waiting to birth happy moments of relief and serenity...even fleeting.

Laboring we journey on. I hold her hand as she journeys and labors through the difficult travail and uncertain inner terrain of old age. We labor on.
I hold her hand.

The Garden of Elder Care

Green lush summer is upon us. But, even as we sit in the shade of the backyard a few yellow leaves fall. A reminder.
We bask in the shade. The alley is hot. My car is impossible to sit in, but the back yard provides solace, shade and rest. It is Shabbat.
I lay on the little couch and doze as my parents sit across from me. My dad reads from the Grapes of Wrath. The New Yorker, Time magazine and various cups are strewn across the table.

Suddenly a little kitty runs by and up a tree as our neighbors poodle chases after it. Up the tree looking scared. Dad looks up and then gives me his commentary about old age. That he feels he is up there on some limb, with no way down. It is refreshing to hear his commentary about old age...and then he says nothing. My mother worries about her anxieties and then asks big questions about life, death and her unresolved Jewish questions.
I hear an opera singer nearby... singing and singing an aria. It could be me singing that aria...the one sung by a daughter as she passionately looks after her parents as they fall into the throes of old age.. Her aria is sweet and deep...but what can she say as the yellow leaves fall and time moves on.

The Sleepover

Last summer my parents came and stayed overnight. Here they are asleep...dreaming away........

Emily and Jim An Introduction

My mother Emily was born in 1921. She has two birthday's, but that is a long story We will just spiral back in time to Vienna, March 25, 1921. She was born into a family that lived in upper class circles. Her father Hugo was with the American Embassy. Her mother Ann dressed well, dressed Emily well entertained beautifully and loved the opera Tosca. As my mother notes,they did not have religion, they had oper!! Her brother Bill was born nine years later. He went onto become a doctor. Every week they went to the opera. They had maids. My mother spoke German and English at home.She is still fluent in German and french as well. Her mother's hidden Jewish past remained veiled and unknown. What feelings did my grandmother have as they all witnessed the Anschluss in 1938. ( The Nazi takeover of Vienna) Later a Nazi flag flew from their balcony.Last year my mother and her brother selfpublsihed a memoir about that experience. My mother had many travels and much education. She met my dad much later in California when she stopped by to say good bye to a friend. Later they married. It was a second marriage for both of them.

My dad Jim grew up on a farm in East Texas, not far from Jacksonville.He picked cotton as a child and worked hard on the farm. His father started out as a farmer, but then got the call to preach and became a Southern Baptist preacher. Hell fire and brimstone. His brother Dan went on to become a Baptist missionary in Spain. His sister Anecia told him stories from the movies, igniting a life long love of movies. She sang "Red Sails in the Sunset" as they picked cotton.
My mother's parents were dead before I was born so I know them only through distant photos and stories from my mother. Thus our train trips to visit my father's parents in Texas are filled with vivid emotional images, smells, sights and the stern vision of my grandfather yelling from the pulpit" Are you saved by the blood of the lamb?" He was later obsessed with Jacob. My grandmother Inez was a blessed patient soul. She was afflicted with rheumatoid arthritis and yet carried on with a myriad of household chores and cooking. I can still remember her cornbread, black eyed peas, fried chicken and peach cobbler. I can still see their simple house on north 27th street with the big field all around it that my grandfather sowed with corn, beans, peas and okra.

This is the brief background to my parents lives. They have been married 57 years.I see them just about everyday. There are all kinds of ways to caretake a person.Sometimes it takes the form of telling their story, or preserving a memory.

I took this photo earlier this evening at the beach.

The Caregiver's Triathalon

"Service to others without expectation is the purest form of compassion."

It is important to be in good shape the day of the Care giver's Triathlon. Make sure that you have spent hours in the presence of your elders, or those you care take so that you know what to expect the actual day of the Triathlon.

Schedule for the Care giver's Triathlon Day

1) Field several anxious desperate phone calls from one's mother. Respond with kindness, patience, more patience and a sense of calm. Try to sound loving, even if you are totally exasperated. Remember, you have been training for this all your life, and she gave you life.

2) Get dressed. Drink coffee, but no breakfast yet because it is time for the Yoga class. This is something you do for yourself to stay fit and centered.

3) Field more anxious phone calls from your mother. Check voice mail and see about the anxious phone calls you have missed.

4) Make phone calls to places that are practical and will help your parents.

5) Go for a swim. This is an important self care part of the Triathalon. Swim vigorously for 40 minutes.

6) Eat a good lunch. Half a tuna salad sandwich, salad and small mocha frappuchino.

7) Drive frenetically across town to see your anxious mother.

8) Hold her hand and listen to her.

9) Take into account your other family member needs. Assist your father in however he needs help.

10) Look carefully at your brother's paintings. Give constructive praise and criticism as needed.

11) Eat supper with your family, even if it is not what you would like to eat. Be grateful that they have food to put on the table.

12) Light the shabbat candles and give thanks for the week that has passed.

How to take One's Elderly Parent's To The Beach: A Sandy Memoir...................

How to take your Elderly Parents to the Beach.........a sandy memoir

Step One

Loll around in the shade of their backyard at home, wondering if really should leave the shade and travel in the hot car to the beach.

Step Two
Cajole Dad to leave, as he sits inside in the living room.

Step Three
Settle family argument that breaks out between Mom and Dad.

Step Four
Change into swimsuit discreely in walk in closet downstairs.

Step Five
Pile swim bags in car with towel, sunscreen, little hat to wear in the water, beach sandals.

Step Six
Worry about where parents will sit at the beach. Will they find shade?

Step Seven
Assist parents getting into the car.

Step Eight
Drive down shady streets, thinking of the best beach to go to and will my parents find easy access getting out of the car and to the beach.

Step Nine
Spot two perfectly good plastic chairs by someone's dumpster. Stop car, throw chairs in back of car. Proceed to beach.

Step Ten
Find Good parking spot. Assist parents getting out of the car.

Step Eleven Run ahead and place plastic chairs in the shade.

Step Twelve
Help parents into chairs, adjust their sitting positions as needed so that they are completely in the shade.

Step Thirteen
Take off glasses, watch, earrings and outer clothes. Put on little pink swimming hat. Get ready to go into the water.

Step Fourteen
Reassure mother that you won't be long.

Step Fifteen
Realize that mother complains and is never satisfied.

Step Sixteen
Realize that mother wants more than you can ever give.

Step Seventeen
Realize and feel all this and go get into the water anyway.

Step Eighteen
Slowly get into the water as usual. Swim back and forth and feel good.
Feel better and better.

Step Nineteen
Flip your mermaid's tail and plunge underwater into the deeper places where
memory resides. Go down deep and emerge, recalling how pleasant it was long ago when you spent your childhood summer afternoons at the beach with your siblings and your mother.

Step Twenty
Recall as you swim along like a lyrical mermaid now, how timeless and pleasant those afternoons were and how they are now as well.

Step Twenty one
Recall how there is a painting somewhere in your basement that you painted of your mother at the beach... remember to take a digial photo of it sometime so you can add it to your blog.

Step Twenty two
Enjoy the waves, the velvety water, the way the lake feels as you swim along.. Feel relaxed and happy. Without cares.

Step Twenty three
Look up to see your little 89 year old mother waving her hands to you from the beach. Time to go in.. leave the water slowly, releasing your memories with a swish of your mermaid's tail.

Step Twenty four
Find sandals on the beach. Walk on the sand up to your parents. Grab towel and sit in the sun drying off.

Step Twenty five
Capture this moment. Grab your paper, paint and pen. Draw it, paint it, feel it.
Here it is this moment with your parents at the beach.

Step Twenty six
Repeat steps eleven through seven in reverse order.

Step Twenty seven
Cast one last look at the beach...longingly, knowingly...soothingly...knowing you will be back as soon as you can...G-d willing.