Of camels and men

We went to the zoo one time in February. It must have been early February. There was snow on the ground. It was dry and cold and in the low 20's, but was a really nice sunny day. We rode the Zoo Tram while there because John had trouble walking.

Most of the animals were inside. The camels, to our surprise, were out in the pasture. There was a male with two females. They were up by the gate where they go back in to the sheds. The tour guide told us that they were let out into the pasture daily for grazing but were returned to the shed and pen yard at 5pm every day in the cold weather. It was about 3 pm in the afternoon and the male had the two females corralled up near the gate. The male was behind them, keeping them from going out into the pasture to graze. The females stood their patiently,chewing cud or whatever they do.

Every day, the guide explained, the male camel herded the females up to the gates. The male repeated this at the same time every afternoon to wait to be let in to the sheds. Her comment was that he was rather bossy with the females. It was always early afternoon and he was consistent.

I think of this behavior often because it reminds me of the sort of thing that I see men do all the time with women. It can be protective and meant to be helpful but still it looks like herding. I seem to notice many more examples of this these days now that I don't live with them. And now, when I do see it happen, the image of the camels comes to mind. It is funny how these characteristics have transmuted through the animal kingdom. I really like men but that was one of their more irritating characteristics. I don't miss it (I guess).

Joan

Last night after my exercise class I used the hot tub at the gym and I met Joan. Joan is 48, and single, and lives with her mother. Joan was from a smallish town in central Ohio. The way she got around to introducing herself was a different, but she wasn't from around here. What she told me was that she had spent 28 years in this little town, and she moved this year, and she missed all her friends.

As we talked, I am thinking WOW, She reminded me of a character out of a novel, or perhaps I could write her into a novel or write about her and make it a novel!

I have never actually met a single person who lived with their mother past say 30. I thought that only happened in fiction novels or movies (creepy guys like Norman Bates, or again usually creepy guys who keep their mom in the freezer, or desiccated in a closet for 10 years to collect on her social security).Single people in novels, on TV or in movies who live with their mothers are never, in my memory, portrayed as healthy, normal people, but Joan seemed pretty cool and I liked her.

Her mom was 87, and they moved here to be closer to her brother. Maybe she needed more help with her mom, I wasn't sure. From Joan's description, her mom was in good enough shape to come to the gym, she just tires easily. I couldn't tell if Joan worked, and I did not ask. For that matter,Maybe Joan has been married and I just have an overactive imagination.

I don't remember the details but Joan asked me if I was from around here, which I
was. Then she asked if I grew up here which I hadn't. When she mentioned she
was from Ohio we had lots to talk about.
.
Before all this started I had pre-arranged to meet a friend (who happened to be male) in the hot tub. I talked this guy into getting a membership at the RAC, because he had been complaining about his weight and exercising. He was from the area and had lived here all his life except to serve in the army and traveling for work. I had barely said hello to my friend before I started talking to Joan. This friend made no motion to talk to Joan and turned away several times and his body language was pretty clear that he did not want to participate and had no interest in meeting her.

Joan started to tell me what activities she had gotten involved in. They all sounded good and I was encouraging. Joan asked me if it was hard to meet people here. I said yes, you have to be aggressive She kept taking side long looks at this guy, like she was considering addressing him and including him into the conversation. I was just rolling on the inside and trying very hard not to wisecrack. I so wanted to say to Joan... see they are all like him.

Got Milk?

Harry and I are at a stalemate.

On Sunday Harry called me and said that we were out of milk and macaroni and cheese and cerial.

"Why don't you go to the grocery store then?" I replied as kind of a question, but mostly a statement.

"I went to the grocery store on Saturday" he says. (Hmmm, so why didn't he have the foresight to know that he would need milk? Not my fault...).

I had not been home all weekend. I was in Pine Island visiting friends. It is hard for me to say no to Harry (he sounded forlorn) so I said ok I would get milk and pasta,mac and cheese, and all that when i got back to town. UNFORTUNATELY, I was almost home and I discovered I had a cell phone in my purse that did not belong to me. I had to drive ALL THE WAY BACK to Pine Island to return it. I was ticked. I would be exhausted from all the driving. I called Harry and told him I wouldn't be going to the store. He should go and get what he needed. When I finally did get home I discovered that all we were out of was milk and he hadn't yet gone to the store. I also discovered that we had cereal and macaroni and cheese and all that stuff. It was just a ruse to make me think it was a bigger issue and that he was neglected. He wanted to use my car to go somewhere, to visit a friend or something in a little bit. I don't care if he uses my car, so I said he could if he went to the grocery store. He got this funny smile on his face and he used his own car.

As of last night (Monday) we still don't have any milk. And Harry said he would go to the store when I called him in the afternoon but when I got home I found him at the pc playing video games with his friends. That was ok. It was a nice evening. I didn't feel like being stuck inside at the gym so I was going to ride my bike to the store. With good intention I planned to finally get a crate attached to the back of my bike, which I have been intending to do for some time, and use this to put groceries in. BUT then I had a couple of beers to CELEBRATE the fact that I FINALLY SOLD THE HOUSE. After that I didn't want to drive. I told Harry i couldn't ride my bike. I don't drink milk anyway so Harry should just quit being such a big baby and GO. Harry started complaining that I wasn't acting like a mother (he says: i need a mother WHO CARES) and so I replied that I thought we should just be friends any. He should think of me as his friend and not his mother....he was too old for a mother and anyway (been there done that) ..lets try something new. We still don't have milk and he still hasn't gone to the store. He's lucky i still do laundry.

BUT all is not lost: he is moving out this weekend.

Memorial Day Weekend

Memorial weekend I was working pager duty so I needed to keep close to the house. We grilled out and Harry invited his friends, Muneeb, Damien and Kayla over one night. I grilled steaks and of course teenagers love to eat. These kids are still teens but
barely and they've all graduated from highschool. Muneeb and Harry used to hang out together in high school even though Muneeb lived in Rochester and Harry lived in Pine Island. They started to getting goofy so Muneeb confided in me some of the things they used to do together, like Movie Money. They would say they were going to a movie so their parents would give them money but end up going to an outdoor rink for pickup hockey instead. Harry 's idea of fun was always interesting...

When he worked at the grocery store I used to find bags of flour in his car trunk. One time the whole back of his car was powdered with white. Or another time i found 5 dispensers of Saran Wrap and eggs, both of which I absconded. I found out later that he and his friends had flour fights, or sometimes they would saran wrap each other's cars, and of course the eggs were for mailboxes.

My favorite memory of Harry though has to do with this plastic rubbery seagull that was about half the size of a real seagull with a squeaker inside of it. Harry has had this toy since he was about three or four. For many years he would fly it in the room, its wings flapping like crazy (in his hand running) and knock lamps over as he went. I probably should not have laughed as I was yelling at him. I forget if he ever named it...but always it would cause a commotion. I could never get him to stop doing it...probably because secretly I thought it was pretty funny too. Hey but Memorial Weekend is in memory of our fallen solders... not my son. I think that was Mother's Day where I should have been thinking of this kind of stuff.

A couple of weeks ago... to Cleveland

A couple of weeks ago I went to Cleveland with my sister Jennifer, my mom, and my nieces Megan and Shannon. We had a good time. My nieces are fun and I enjoyed the drive. Jennifer drove for the first couple of hours and after that we unanimously vetoed any offers she made to do some driving. We all wanted to go faster.

I drove at some point on the way and my mother sat up front with me. We share the trait for complaining about everybody else on the roads driving habits (too slow, what the heck are they doing? no turn signals). At one point my mother offered to
flip some guy the bird who was dawdling. I thanked her but didn't think it would be appropriate. Geeze, but it could shake the guys whole faith in humanity to have such a genteel and sweet looking white haired lady do that to him. However, I appreciated my mom's enthusiasm for getting even. On the way back I sat shotgun with her and we were having the same types of observations (thank god we aren't too big on road rage) and I kept offering to give other driver's the finger in her defense but then would (chicken out) er not do it and she realized I had no backbone but was totally about saving face for me, so I would say "should i give 'em the finger?" and she'd say "give 'em three, the bum!" knowing I wouldn't do anything because i was a coward. It was fun.


Jennifer and I went that Saturday morning to see my dad. I was driving. At one point he was in the car with us...we took him to breakfast and his comment to me was "So Anne, are you just showing off?"

I think my driving was making him nervous. He hasn't lost his sense of humor.


This is my dad and his brother, Uncle Robert. We had such a nice visit. They sat and talked about family and old times, how their parents met.. great stuff.

My sweet baby boy has grown up....

He'll be graduating from highschool this spring. These are some of my favourite pictures. Motherhood has been a great experience. I learned to be patient and I learned tolerance. There were many challenges as you can see. Harry was quite the pistol and sometimes my sanity suffered. Its not over yet. I am not sure it will ever be.

Senioritus: its not just the kids, its me!

I am in the process of planning a graduation party for my son. There is no way around this activity. Harry wants one and I just cannot let him down. And, this is a big deal around here. because there are three seasons in this area: Winter, Summer and Graduation. For a month this spring, every weekend will be filled with breakfast brunches and open houses. Mostly open houses. Its ham sandwiches, potato salad and cake, the scrap book, the sports medal,s and the 4H ribbons. People get knew carpeting, resod their yards, put on additions, and plan years in advance. I AM NOT KIDDING.

When I started thinking about this I thought, we are going to have a big party, no wall of fame, no ham sandwiches and no cake, but we are going to have a live band and invite the whole universe. As time goes by, I find that my interest and involvement in Harry's school year is waning. I have gone to a few of his track meets. And to think of all those years I coached soccer teams in 30 degree weather, and taught religious education to all those kids (my son included!), its hard to believe i could be so disinterested, but its true! I am ready for him to fly the nest. As for a party, I'm thinking Harry can just invite his friends and i'll buy pizza! Well almost. I do have a few things up my sleeve. I am going to borrow some tables from the neighbors, and I'll pull out the bowling balls and pins, volley ball set, croquet, horseshoes and have at it I guess. Some of my family members are coming so I think they will help me set up. I guess its not so bad.


HERE IS WHAT I DID THIS WEEKEND:

I went to a mosaic workshop and loved it. I have been dabbling in this activity for about ten years, starting when my son was very young. I would give him a hammer and let him break the tiles. He loved it.

What was great about this class was that the instructor gave us her formulas for grout and tile adhesive. Many of the pre-mixed varieties and other brands found at local hardware stores or tile stores have cancer causing substances (like latex) that are highly toxic. The instructors formulas do not have additives, are very strong and can stand subzero conditions. She gave me alot of information about tools, where to find quality, and techniques. It got me over a serious hump. She also offers classes in Puerto Vallarta in the winter and I am giving it serious consideration. I feel recharged and rejuvenated. Oh yeah.


(Pictures above: first one is my work area in the basement. I used to have alot more panels, but I gave them as gifts to friends and family at Christmas. The second picture is of the shoes I covered: mostly shells and some buttons and a buckle. I white washed the shoes with paint. One of the things she talked alot about was using negative space and how to achieve it. Also, I didn't have to grout between the objects. I am also working on a metal cigar box - humadore? that i am loading up with little porcelain animal figurines .. a zoo!)

HERE IS WHAT MY SON WAS SUPPOSED TO DO BUT HAS NOT DONE YET: He needs a new car, but has to clean up this one so we can sell it or give it away. Its got some serious problems and I don't want to put any more money into it..Harry's got some money saved so we'll just get a new one.

John Pike died this morning

His family was holding vigil for him for at least a week. He has a fantastic family, very loyal and loving. John stopped eating about two weeks ago and over time was drinking less liquids. It happens fast if you don't eat or drink.

I have blogged about John previously here, and his very good friend, Virginia, here.

I was amazed and impressed with how brave John was, and how accepting of his fate. He was ready. He was kind to his family to the very end. He made their burden easy and for all the friction that may have existed between some of the members, he, and they never showed it.

Per his wishes his brother is going to have him cremated. John's brother is a plumber and has a backhoe so Joe will bury John in one of the family plots that was bought by their father many years ago. There will be no funeral or wake and Joe promised to call me when they bury him. I'll probably take the day off work.

We survived the meteor shower (revised - better word choice)

I have not been watching the weather reports over the last few days, but my husband tells me there were predictions for a meteor shower last night and maybe tonite (Saturday - Sunday). Unfortunately it is cloudy tonite so I may not see them if they are happening. Last month there was a meteor shower and I did see that. What you see is a shooting star or two about every minute (a minute is sixty seconds and that is a long time). It is very dark out here so we have beautiful midnite skies on a clear night.

The big concern for my husband was that the meteors would fall to the earth. Just recently a woman who signed up to volunteer for Pine Area Home Services has been coming to our house and walking with John down our driveway in the afternoon. She is a wonderful person, very chatty, and about forty-five. The perfect age and extraction for my husband. Well my husband was worried that the meteors would be problem while they went for a walk. He was afraid he would be hit like in a hale storm or worse. He also was sharing his concern with anybody who came over plus everyone else he could think of, to warn them. He was suggesting to my son's girlfriend that she find shelter in a basement, and bring food and water to survive the event. We discussed the impact it might have to the house, but since we do have a "bomb shelter" in our basement (under the porch; my husband had a small room excavated that has walls of cinder block under the cement porch and we use it for cold storage) John wasn't worried about this family.

I have to give my son's girlfriend a lot of credit. She listened attentively while I put in my two cents of [good-natured] teasing. Most meteors burn up before they reach the Earth's atmosphere. I did tell my husband this, but he disagreed. My husband suffers from dimentia due to various health issues, so I think he has forgotten some of the things he probably learned in Science class. And he continues to be firm on his opinion. My main argument as to the seriousness of the concern was that meteors only fall to the earth in the southwest, Oregon or New Jersey so the probability of one landing here is small. Tonite my husband's elder son, who lives in Phoenix, Az, called to see how we survived the weather.

Note: Someone (see comments) has reminded me that most meteors burn up before they reach the earths' atmosphere. I do know this, so i revised my discussion above. Sometimes John comes up with the darndest ideas. This one I just had to share.

Catching up...

Harry turned 18 on December 1st. He is very happy about that. He no longer has a curfew (he thinks!).

The Snow Pile

The last time we lived in a suburb, with neighbors at our elbows, was when we lived in Ellicott City, Maryland. We lived in a great place, but our next door neighbor was a big jerk. It was the mid '90s and one winter we had a terrific snow fall which gave us two to three feet of snow overnight. My husband, John, was very active and used to do lots of snow shoveling in the winter. The snow fell over the weekend, and at some point I came out while John and Harry were working on the driveway.

Me: You'll never guess where our neighbor Paul is putting all his snow! Its on the sidewalk between our driveways! Its about four feet high right now. He’s been doing it with his kids all morning!
John: Paul's an idiot. He’s never forgiven us for putting up a fence. It’s just been one thing after another. What a pain! First that letter to the chairwoman for our development, then the dog whistle whistling to make our dog shut up. Now this. Well, he'll have to move the snow. I’d bet this is against city ordinances. What could this guy hope to achieve with such a stupid idea. What a major nuisance he is! What an immature stunt. He’s an idiot.
Me: I know! He’s putting it on the sidewalk right between his driveway and ours! You know that patch of sidewalk. It goes maybe five feet from our driveway to theirs. He’s put it smack dab in the middle.

The snow pile was still there on Sunday and growing. Paul and his kids were adding to it. Monday morning school was back in session and the city was open for business. The snow was piled high everywhere, but streets were plowed and sidewalks clear. It was John's job to take Harry to the bus stop.

Me: Oh John, the snow pile, its ten feet wide. You’ll never get around it. You’ll have to walk down our driveway and out in the street. Its way too deep. And he’s built up the sides around his driveway so you can’t walk around and go over the yard that way either. You and Harry won’t be able to make it to the bus stop."
John: Harry…

Sweet little five year old Harry, bundled for school, skipped over to his dad. Harry had a back pack in one hand and took his dad’s hand with the other. I got a long look from John.

John: You wait…

So I did. I watched from the front porch.
John with his white cane, and little Harry, attempted to navigate the huge snow pile. The sidewalk was clear on John's side, as John and Harry had spent Saturday and Sunday shoveling snow. On either side of the snow pile was a wall of snow at least two feet high that bordered Paul's driveway. On the other side of the snow pile, Paul's children were waiting for the bus with Paul. There were some other kids there as well; the boys from down the street. I could see that John was asking Harry about the snow pile.. John was pointing from side to side with his cane. Then Harry led John down into the street and over toward Paul's driveway which was the official bus stop. A few cars drove by, at speeds that must have been more than 40 miles an hour. Just as they came up the apron the bus pulled up. Both Harry and the other children began boarding the bus.

Paul was walking toward his house.

John: Paul, you need to get rid of this snow pile. You are blocking our path to the bus.

Paul: I don’t think so…

John: What? What? Paul….I'm blind and I am walking with a five year old. It’s not safe to have a blind man and a five year old going out on this road to get around that snowpile.
Paul: I'm not doing anything of the sort. I have a sore back.

John: Why'd you put it there in the first place? Sore back my foot. What you’re doing is against the law!
Paul: ( laughter )

John: Are you laughing Paul? You think that this is funny? Why your a menace... your ...your just a big boob!"

John walks back to our house by way of the street.

To me, standing on the porch:

John: This is it. The guys an ass! I 'm calling the police!

John goes in the house. He goes to the kitchen phone and dials the police station in Ellicott City.

John: This is John Moore. Yes. This is not an emergency. Yes, I want to file a complaint against my neighbor. Yes.... Yes.. He's shoveled his snow into a snow pile across the sidewalk between our two houses. The bus stop for school is on our neighbor’s driveway. The only way we can get to the bus stop now is by walking in the street. Here is the reason I have called. We live on a very busy road. I am blind and my son is only 5 years old. This is a dangerous situation for us. There is no way that my son and I can get around this snow. It blocks my son's path to the bus stop! I want to report it! (...silence.......) Thank you.

John: (to me) Well, they will send a policeman out to check on it.

Within the hour a policeman knocked on the door. He carried an expression that conveyed he wasn’t happy about making this call.

Policeman: Good morning Mr. Moore. We received your complaint this morning. I see the snow pile you are referring to. Have you talked to your neighbor about this? Asked him to remove the snow?"

John: Hello officer. Yes. I did speak with him this morning! I asked him to please clear a path, but he said he had a sore back and he laughed at me. You understand that the reason this is an issue is because the school bus stop is on his driveway. My son is only five years old and I am blind. This is a very difficult situation for us. Cars drive very fast on the street here and it creates a dangerous situation for us if the only way we can reach the bus stop is to go out in the street.

Policeman: Well, Mr. Moore, I understand your concern but in situations like this there is not much I can do.... It’s a shame that you and your neighbor cannot work this out amongst yourselves. I will go over and talk to him.

Me: (Policeman is gone) He thinks we're silly John.

John: Maybe so, but I couldn't let that boob get away with this. Somebody’s got to stop him. He needs to pay for being such an idiot!

Twenty minutes later there was a knock at the door.

Policeman: Mr. Moore, I spoke with your neighbor Mr. Lyons and unfortunately, there are only two things that we can do in response to this. I can issue him a citation, if that's acceptable to you, and I would be more than happy to do this. The other thing that you can do, is call the school and get the bus stop changed. They would probably agree to that under the circumstances.

John: Yes officer, that’s a great idea. I will call the school. That would solve everything. Thank you.

Policeman: No problem, Mr. Moore, but I will still issue Mr. Lyons a citation. It’s the least I can do.

John: (to me) Holy cow! Paul must have showed his true colors.

I didn't hear the phone call John made to the school because I had to leave for a customer appointment, but the school agreed to change the bus stop for the very next day. John called the neighbors whose kids used the bus stop living the other side of Paul’s house, apologizing for the inconvenience...but they understood. Everybody felt the same about Paul. The neighbor kids made paths around the snow pile. Their paths looked like deer trails. It was a cold winter with no warm spells, and so the snow pile remained till early March.

SNOW!

The temperatures are in the teens. It is snowing like crazy. The storm is not supposed to let up till tomorrow. I prefer to wait the storm out. Good thing it is the weekend. I had no plans to go anywhere as I am on pager duty and need to be available for work. My son is watching a friend's house and their furnace stopped working. He is meeting the repairman at their home to let the man in and be there while the furnace gets fixed. It is terrible weather to be out in.

Today is my son's birthday and we will have a quiet night at home (if he makes it back!) and play Risk. I agreed only because it was my son's birthday. I prefer Monopoly. We'll see if there are any neighbors who are snowed in and looking for something to do. I have several cases of beer leftover from Thanksgiving.

I love this picture. It looks like this outside right now. We lived at our first house in Pine Island and Harry was maybe four. He drove this little jeep all winter long. Sometimes he would get his jeep stuck in the ditch, and and my neighbor would laugh, because she would see him kicking it and shouting curses.** Baby swears of course. This particular incident was a big snowfall, and my husband was out shoveling. On the first pass shoveling the drive, Harry followed directly behing my husband as he shoveled, and from the window, I could see my husband turning around periodically to yell at Harry because Harry kept bumping him in the back of his legs. It was fun to watch, even though I could tell my husband was aggravated. I think Harry eventually got the message, after about four reprimands.

**Note: Roads are built high here so the wind will blow the snow off and it has somewhere to go. Being "in the ditch" can happen easily. The ditches are usually quite steep and difficult to get out of without some help.

A blast from the past

When my brother was in middle school- of course we called it Junior High, he and his friends would get together up in his room and play Risk. It is the game where you have little colored pieces that represent armies and you roll the dice to do battle and the highest roll wins. The board is divided by territories and continents and the more territories you conquer, the more land and armies you acquire. After playing this game you see why Europe and Asia were constantly being over run throughout history and so difficult for the
conquering army to hang onto. I would walk by my brother's bedroom and the chatter was deafening. There was so much excitement and shouting. My brother and his friends would spend hours and days playing the game. They loved it..


It is a great game, then and now. I used to play it on the occasional weekend night with my friends in the dorm when I was in college. We would go all evening and finally it would end with someone flipping the board, or throwing pencils. We were very competitive and didn't handle losing well.


We used to play here at home with the kids or just Harry, after a holiday meal or on a cold Saturday evening in the winter. As in, Monopoly, another Moore favourite, in this household, we always try and form alliances or make deals. I loved playing with my husband, because he'll always do these truly sweet things for me exclusively, like in Monopoly, let me land on Boardwalk four times rent free (this is after he's got two and three houses on it, and could bring you to your knees in the game financially), or in Risk he'll give me a country that he would like for us to visit sometime, or the one that I should be Queen of. He was such a gentleman, and there is nothing the kids can do about it.


My son plays Risk. He plays with his friends and he plays when he goes to Chicago to visit his cousins. Or on vacation, he will bring a Risk board and the cousins will spend an evening at it. If you talk to the boys, my son and nephews, they will engage you in a discussion of the game, and their strategy and who was winning, or how the game was won or lost by whom. It makes my eyes roll to the back of my head to listen to them. I appreciate that they get so excited, and it represents drama to them, but frankly it is dull to listen to. But I think back to the excitement I used to witness with my brother and his friends, and I think, well alright, its that kind of thing.


My son just recently went over to his friends and they played a rousing game, or so he says. He was telling me how he won the game with great gusto and excruciating detail; the alliances and deceptions that were occurring. And here is something, they were text messaging each other under the table. As he was negotiating pacts and alliances with one party, he was receiving text messages on his cell phone from another party. Sweet.

No worries

Michelle, the cleaning lady with OCD, did a great job, and, she is very nice. There were a few things that I will probably need to work on. All the sheets for the bed have to match. Consequently, she didn't replace some of the pillow cases because they weren't right. My linen closet is probably as unorganized as they come, and I throw together whatever as long as its the right size for making up the beds. I guess I'll have to re-organize that closet too. It's time.

She confessed that she replaced John's water glass three times because there were bugs in it (fall is always ladybug / elder bug season crazy in the house). If you live in the suburbs you will not understand, or if you are heavy into pesticides, my house would be a problem for you, because I will not even kill spiders. Here in Minnesota we really do not have anything lethal anyway that would come indoors.

My husband keeps a beer mug of water on the table that he uses all week long, and maybe once a week I'll replace it with a clean mug. I don't worry about the possibilities of him swallowing a bug unless I see it happen or there is one in the glass at the time I am passing by. Michelle suggested putting saran wrap over the top, but that would be complicated for John to remove at best.

The only incident was, very early on I recieved a call from Michelle, because John was asking for her help to find a disk that contained his phone numbers. Well, he hasn't used a diskette in a pc for ten years, and he was thinking of when we lived in Maryland and he used to carry his phone numbers on a diskette that he would take between his home office and work. So I walked Michelle through re-booting the pc, and bypassing the hard drive scanning program. John is using a 486 processor pc with windows 98 because his talking program, Jaws, is old and has been out of service for years. It would cost $900.00 to upgrade, and another $135.00 for software maintenance agreements, so I am keeping this pc alive for as long as I possibly can. John has a phone number file on his desktop, and I showed Michelle how to access this. I explained the situation to her, that as a result of the stroke, he confuses past and present and sometimes he will have moments of clarity so she will just have to ask Harry or I to explain what John is referring to. Brain damage is an interesting thing. It can turn life into a crossword puzzle. I guess I would prefer to work them at my leisure, but it is what it is and we can rise to the occasion.

Beep Baseball

When I first met John, my husband, who is blind, he was very active and athletic. He was looking for things to do, so he joined a Beep Baseball team through the AT&T Pioneers association. I got involved in the sport with John, as his driver and his friend, and I ended up being a spotter for the team.

Everyone on the team was blind, or had partial vision and wore a blindfold, except the pitcher. The pitcher could see, and had to use syncopation in his voice and throw a ball that was even and true. He would say “Ready, Set, Swing”. We played softball, but I have to say the team was a rowdy bunch of brave souls, not some girly girl outfit. (I come from a very sportscentric town so hardball vs. softball is a discussion.)

What the spotter does depends on the strategy that the team puts together; and ours was a pie shape where the baseball field was fractioned from one to five as if you had triangular wedges. My job was to call out which area the ball landed in. So I would shout a number one through five if the batter hit the ball and it went somewhere. I would name the area that it fell. And then the person in that area would scramble to get the ball, and there were rules as to whether you could run back or forward, to avoid other players.

Generally, the best teams were the ones who had team members who could hit the ball. There were always discussions whether a player who had vision at some point in his life, and knew the batter posture, was better at hitting than say someone like Stevie Wonder, who I don’t think ever had any vision. Well clearly he wasn’t an athlete. Anyway, there is definitely a difference, but no decision as to which makes a better batter and more contact with the ball.

So, about the game; we had two spotters in the field, one on the left and the other on the right side of the field. I shared the spotter position with another fellow who had a son on the team, so the other spotter was maybe in his sixties.. One time he got hit by his son, wouldn’t you know, who was young and reckless, and did not follow the rules or the plan. For Christ sake, all these guys out in the field have to handle the ball in less than seven seconds and none of them can see. I say seven seconds because that is how fast a runner can run to the base. We used to time it. The fact that everybody listens to the rules and pays attention is very important. Actually, that is why John eventually quit. This same individual wasn’t listening and went the wrong way and hit John dead on with at least 180 lbs of force and John was concerned about his face and his smile and good things like that. Ok.

Well sometime I’ll tell you about the tournaments or the day they played in the wind. The players could not find the bases. The bases are tall soft bags that emit a tone, based on the umpires decision, because the umpire flicks a switch for first or third when the batter makes contact. The batter has to run toward the noise. Sometime I'll tell you about the time we got drunk with a couple of the team members, and I gave them a lift to the train station. Two drunk blind guys trying to find their way through the train station was hilarious. I was a little worried about them when I dropped them off, but they made it.

The whole thing, my hanging out with a blind guy, and hanging out with many blind guys, was an adventure for sure. My husband is amazing. By the way, guess which one is my husband? Guess which ones in this picture can see? There are four.

Inspiration

I just finished reading a great book: “We Are All Welcome Here” by Elizabeth Berg. It is the story of a girl who is being raised by her mother Paige, a victim of polio, paralyzed from the neck down. It is a wonderful story that addresses many issues regarding human nature, growing up with a disabled parent (like my child and stepchildren), and how normal changes. I found it inspiring, and given my current situation I need inspiration.
There is a moment, toward the end of the book where the disabled mom, Paige, lectures the social worker for accusing her of taking advantage of her daughter to help with her daily care.


“Was it fair what happened to me? Of course not, but here I am. And let me put this the simplest way I can: if being paralyzed is my fate, helping to take care of me is my daughter’s.”

My son is obligated (as were John’s two stepchildren) to do more in our family than I suspect is required in most families. The difference now for my son is that John was much more able when he was younger, and provided more guidance to his older son and daughter and better emotional support. John has always done a lot of remodeling in basements, garages, you name it. Johnny used to help John wire electrical fans, do plumbing, carpentry and electrical work. Later, Harry helped John put up drywall, insulation and fertilize trees and they all did things like walk John places or do chores with him around the house and yard. Harry takes care of John’s meals and medicines when I am traveling on business trips or visiting family on over nights. There is very little that John can do independently, and with his strokes, that ability has been reduced further. The key, to our survival and his, is acceptance, on many levels.

And that reminds me of two movies that are absolutely my favorite in this regard. One is “My Left Foot” starring Daniel Day, and the other is “Regarding Henry” starring Harrison Ford and Annette Benning. What I loved about My Left Foot was again the family, and the way they accepted their son’s, brother’s disability. My favorite scene though, was where it showed the four boys sleeping in one bed, two up and two down. I just loved that.


What struck me most about Regarding Henry is how much Henry’s life changed, and what he lost. Regardless of how they portrayed it, he did lose a lot. The scene that stands out most in my mind in this movie was a cocktail party that Henry and his wife attended after he was back at home(long recuperation from brain damage after being shot in the head). The Hostess was making some comment about Henry and his disability to a group of her guests that was negative and condescending, and she was making a cruel joke at his expense. The wife overheard, and she let the hostess know she overheard, and then she and her husband left and that was it for the wife’s friendship to that woman I would guess.

When John was younger he talked to me more about what it was like to lose his sight (he lost his sight when he was thirty) and how his life changed. Before he lost his sight he was very active. He lifted weights, played pickup football on the weekends, golfed, tennis, repaired his cars, he loved to drive, painted his house, remodeling, gardened, you name it he did it all. He had lots of friends and was very social. When he lost his site he kept fairly active, and that was the only comment that he made to me that I remember regarding what life was like after he lost his sight. He said he lost a lot of friends. Having a disability can be very lonely and isolating, no matter what anybody says. He does not talk about it and he does not complain.


John retired from the phone company in 1998, after having had a mild stroke. He worked for at least 20 years with his disability, in Chicago, Maryland and Minnesota as an Account Executive. I think he did a pretty good job of accepting the change. He moved on. He made new friends and he has had a pretty good life so far considering.

Welcome to the 80's

When I was visiting Chicago a couple of weekends ago my mother gave me this picture. It was taken sometime between '82 and '83 I think. The car’s name is Bill in honor of a guy I was dating momentarily. I was living in Lakewood, Ohio and this was my first car. It was an upgrade from my mother’s old schwin ten speed. The bike had baskets on the sides which were useful for carrying groceries. I used the bike for shopping and running errands around town. Now, with this car, I was no longer tethered to public transportation, and was able to get yet a third job, working as a waitress at the Colony Restaurant on Wednesday nights after work at my first job as a receptionist at the Great Lakes Theatre Festival, all in downtown Cleveland, Ohio. I needed the money. Weekends I worked my second job usually on Saturday, cataloguing the insect collection at the Natural History Museum at University Circle, free of charge and for the love of biology. My younger sister was living with me at the time. She worked part-time for a temporary agency. We bought a six pack every night for a week one summer and I couldn’t pay the rent that month. I think a six pack was $ 2.50? It was bad. Then she got a real job that paid decent and she split. She upgraded to a flashy condo on the east side. It happens.

As you can see from the picture, my sisters are piled on top of the car, plus my brother in law, with me on the door. Standing next to me is my brother, and then my future brother in law. I left Bill with my mom and moved to Chicago, which happened rather impulsively the following spring. I had a friend at the theatre that was moving to California so he gave me a lift. I took two trash bags of dirty clothes and was dropped off at my older sister’s house. She was already living with her husband in Chicago beginning a few years earlier. It seems like my older sister, whose only three years older than me, has been married forever. And we, my younger sister and I, were forever either drinking her beer (me) or using her washing machine (Laura), so it was no surprise to my older sister that I showed up in Chicago with dirty laundry. Anyway, I gave my jobs in Cleveland four days notice (they were thrilled for me) and my roommate a months rent (she was not, quite angry infact). Oh well. It happens.

Eventually, I sold the car in Chicago to four young Guatemalans. They dressed like Sandinistas and reminded me of the Clash album cover of I think the same name. Only one of them spoke English and they offered me $750.00 for the car. My ad had said $ 700.00. There was a rough moment as I deliberated this but then I only took $ 700.00. Oh well.

Why oh why did we swallow the fly

I wanted to put a garden in the back of our house where the trailer used to sit. Just a big square garden like we had in Maryland. My husband disagreed. He wanted a raised bed. In Massachusetts, where he was from, they used raised beds for gardening. His brother in Massachusetts gardened with raised beds. Raised bed gardens were superior, end of discussion. He also thought a raised bed would be more accessible, which I went along with. How it ended up being in the front yard near our first tree field (constant reminder to weed from my kitchen window) is a complete mystery.

John built the garden with help from Harry and others. He used 12 foot long, 6 by 6 timbers, tons of them. It was a strip of sorts, maybe 30 feet long by 10 feet wide. It didn’t take long to figure out that the location was not ideal. The bed was built on an incline and so one end had a three feet high wall of timbers, and the other side was the same level as the low part of the yard. John had to buy a truck load of dirt to fill it out.

Oh, and we have this John Deere garden tractor with a tiller attachment. The one thing about John Deere garden tractors; any woman can use them. Install the attachments for the tractor? Easy, just look at the brochure, especially their sales brochures and technical data sheets. Each page has a cheerful, average sized woman riding or working on the tractor installed with one or more attachments, like the tiller or the snow blower. We have one of those too. Honestly, the woman who could install these attachments would have to be able to press at least 200 pounds and have strength in her hands like Lou Ferrigno. I’ve tried and I cannot, and I am only slightly smaller than the woman in the picture, but I digress.

John quickly discovered that the design of the garden was not optimal; another problem being I cannot back up the tractor with this big ass tiller attachment on the back of it, in the narrow strip of garden which is the raised bed. So then he added the West wing. The garden is now a U shape, so I could till riding forward at all times, no backing up required. The whole back side of the U is made up of a 3 foot wall, more bucks for timbers, and he had to order two more truckloads of dirt to fill it. In the process we discovered that it was much cheaper to buy dirt than six by sixes, and I got a center island, which was a closed rectangle that wouldn’t be tilled ever. Here I planted blackberry bushes and asparagus and gladiolas, which I dig up every fall. Of course, after a year of having to mow the grass in the center between the island and the bed I had had enough. So I told John we needed to get rid of the grass. And he did with more dirt. This last year I went out and bought an electric tiller, that I absolutely love. There was no woman pictured on the front of the product brochure, but there should have been.

Last year I got a plaque that I attached to the “wall” of the garden. It says “John’s Folly”.

Side note: Negatives aside, it is a really nice garden and with my new tiller I am starting to enjoy it more.

Happy Birthday to me

It was my birthday a week ago Monday! I turned eh-hem, forty nine. A good friend I met through work shares my birthday. She now lives in Michigan. She called me first thing. It made my birthday all on its own, but then I spent the day in the garden weeding.

What is great about this activity is the dog, a very high strung, overly enthusiastic chocolate lab who lives outside, will leave me alone. He has learned not to come in the garden. Although adorable, he’s a royal pain. I love it.

What is not great though is that weeding becomes a major project because it can be so messy. I went through four sets of gardening gloves with all the dampness and mud. I get dirt on my knees and shoes and feet. I am just absolutely caked with it. So once I start I don’t want to stop till it is done.

I was out there for most of the day, and by afternoon, I started getting calls from family members with birthday wishes. John would shout to me from the house. He was taking the call and then telling them I would call back. Then he was coming up to get me. He was doing this while the event was fresh, to avoid forgetting, which would definitely happen otherwise.

When I finally finished in the garden, John was in the kitchen. He announced that he had made calls to everyone on his phone list (HIS PHONELIST), telling them or leaving them messages to call and wish me a happy birthday. He told me this in the kitchen. He had done it so he could get all the incoming birthday calls at once and avoid all this having to go up and down the stairs and outside to give me messages. He has a talking computer and his phone list on the computer is the list of all HIS friends and whatever businesses he might call or need to call in the course of a day. The rest of the evening was spent by me talking to people that I didn’t really know very well. I have to confess he does have some friends that are my friends too, so it was very nice after all. I am just glad I didn’t have to talk to his stock broker (who he left a message for, but never called back).

More about vacation

I am in the middle. My sisters are on either side. We made John (my husband) hold the beer can as a prop. After all, a man is a man, and all good men drink beer. It took the whole vacation to get John into his bathing suit, and he went swimming in the pool! Yeah! He's doing a great job for a guy who is blind and has had stokes up the ying yang (amen).