CSquaredPlus3

Inspiration

When both of my grandmothers died, nearly twenty years apart, the importance of moments and not mementos was never more profound.  Especially with the people I feel connected to in life.

Although, I admit my desire to occasionally visit each woman's last apartment as it was when they died.  Furniture they'd each had for years, arranged just so; clothes pressed and hanging in closets; and kitchens organized similarly -- one grandmother preferred vodka in her liquor cabinet, the other bourbon.

A Graceland-like shrine in memory of Georgie and Jane would be nice some days.

But it's just stuff.  The older my grandmothers became, the more they shrugged their shoulders at their own belongings and boxes of sentiment.

When Georgie died, my mother's mother, all Mom wanted was one of her rose bushes.  Mom dug up a pink rose bush, placed it in a plastic bag, sat with it on the flight home after my grandmother's service, and planted it in her yard.

I have a few things from each of my grandmothers.  There are no family heirlooms or valuable antiques, but some old books and a photograph or two bring me great comfort and joy.

And a desk.  When Mamaw died last summer [Dad's mom, Jane], I had the space for a few pieces of her furniture.  A dresser and two night stands have been sanded, painted and repurposed in our home.  But it's the old, mahogany desk with drawers that stick and darkened brass hardware, that speaks to me every day.  "Come over here and sit.  You're not too busy.  Talk to me.  Think.  Write."

After some refurbishing, we placed the desk in a small area in our bedroom that has become my writing space.

I don't always sit at the desk.  Sometimes I sit on the small couch, or the rocking chair with the computer on my lap.  But I feel supported, encouraged, and inspired.  Not to mention reminded of the difficulties women endured in prior generations with fewer opportunities.

I don't have a piece of furniture from Grandmother Georgie, but the roses from my own garden are reminders of her fortitude and love.

The tequila bottle the flowers are displayed in?  A gift from my mother, who is very much alive, and collects them.  Mom does not drink the tequila [anymore], but asks bartenders at nice restaurants to save the expensive, unique looking bottles for her.

Mamaw would love the tequila bottle vase.  Grandmother [Mom's mother] would say, "Oh, for god's sake, Kaye Anna.  I think we can do a little better than that."

I love it all.  The desk, the roses, the tequila bottle, but mostly I love the reminder of the interesting, smart, strong women that are mine.

The Zen Of My Sons On A Beach

The boys have a two-week spring break every year.  It's great.  Long enough to do something special, as well as rest and refortify.

This year we chose to drive to Anaheim, California, and hit some theme parks.  The drive was only nine hours with Leadfoot Ross at the helm.  Chris and I have become pros at delicately balancing nutritional needs with dehydration while on the road to minimize needless bathroom breaks.  The kids are fine.

My fears about having a "caboose" child were vividly realized on this vacation.  I always wanted to have children close together to avoid the "Space Mountain vs. Tea Cups" dilemma.  Oldest Boy [12] and Middle Boy [10] had a blast riding thrill rides with their father.  Four-Year-Old-Boy and I spent a lot of time perusing gift shops, buying trinkets and toys he didn't need, and eating over-priced snacks.  He was completely overwhelmed by the noise, the music, the characters and the intensity of all things animated and robotic.

The sun even seemed to shine painfully brighter for the four-year-old.  He selected a pair of pink, bejeweled High School Musical sunglasses that he now wears all the time.  His father is so proud.

 

We were in California for a week and managed to hit Disneyland, California Adventure, SeaWorld and Universal Studios, in spite of the fact that we were all battling a virus.  The same virus I'm certain attacks all families as they embark on a much anticipated and valued family vacation.  We medicated.  Problem Solved.

[A medicated family is a happy family!]

We spent our final day of vacation on the beach.  Even though it was cool and breezy, the boys enjoyed flirting with the water and playing in the sand.  I sat on some rocks, taking a few photos and video, and minding our things.  I occasionally irritated all four of my white fellas when I interrupted their fun to reapply sunscreen, or remind Oldest Boy to check his blood sugar, snack or reattach his pump for a quick bolus of insulin.

My interruptions didn't affect them for long... 

[Chris and the boys - JOY!]
 

As I sat looking at the ocean and smelling the air, I looked up at the sky and thought of my grandmother.  She passed away in August 2009.  Before she died, she promised that if she was able [without scaring me], she would contact me after her death to give me the real scoop.  I summoned her, sitting there on those rocks.  Can you hear me, Mamaw?  Please answer me.  I've been waiting for months.  Where are you?  You promised.  There are so many things I need to talk with you about...

I waited, and still, nothing.  I miss her.  I need advice about some specific issues, and her thoughts on some general ones.  Sitting on those rocks, my mind meandered and bounced.  I thought about the past, the present, the future.  I continued to knock on Heaven's door... seeking Mamaw.

Then... I think I heard something.  It was probably my own voice, but allow me to pretend it was her's.  She gently said, Shhh.  I'm watching those wonderful boys play on the beach.  I suggest you do the same.

Priorities - Spring Break 2010 from Chris Ross on Vimeo.

Sun, Sun, Sun, Here It Comes...

Twenty ten has a nice ring to it.  I've heard several people say, "This is MY year!  Good things are going to happen in twenty ten!"  The number is attractive to look at... 2010... it rolls off the tongue... it's hopeful and happy like a sunny day.

I've had a hard time jumping into the new year.  A mire of thoughts, goals and disappointments have temporarily bound me.  But... Here comes the sun.  Doot 'n doo doo.  Here comes the sun. And I say... it's all right...

I'm choosing to focus on two very important "Ef" words this year.

Photo courtesy of Google Images.

**********

FRUGALITY
My grandmother died August 20, 2009.  I continue to miss her.  I periodically watch video just to hear her voice and experience her as fully as I can.  There weren't many things left after Mamaw died.  She had a desk and some bedroom furniture that fit nicely in her room at the assisted living facility.  My dad said I was welcome to it.

The furniture wasn't valuable, but it was solid.  I don't know the history behind the desk, other than she'd always had it.  The bedroom furniture was purchased in 1939, the year my grandparents were married.  They weren't rich people, but they had enough money to replace furniture if they needed to.  Their belief: If something was functional and well-maintained, why would a person spend money to replace it?  Wasteful!  Mamaw painted furniture, rearranged it, sewed curtains out of sheets, made new covers for throw pillows, and her home always looked up-to-date, pretty and clean.  Papaw transplanted bushes, borrowed starts from neighbor's perennials and their landscapes were lovely.

Chris and I aren't flashy spenders and I don't think we're blatantly wasteful, but I wouldn't want the "Green Police" raiding our home and surveilling our spending habits.

A portion of "frugality" defined per Wikipedia:

Common strategies of frugality include the reduction of waste curbing costly habits, suppressing instant gratification by means of fiscal self-restraint, seeking efficiency, avoiding traps, defying expensive social norms, embracing cost-free options, using barter, and staying well-informed about local circumstances and both market and product/service realities.

We're not striving to be spokespeople for frugal living, but we both want to simplify without losing the spirit of generosity or the joy of occasional self-indulgence.  We want to do better.

FRIENDSHIP
Relationships have been a big topic for me over the past few years.  My desire to connect with people from my past, the confusion and disappointment I've experienced when someone has rejected me, the expectations I have of my family and friends, and the sadness and anger I feel as I try to understand that many people don't share my eagerness, or even worse... my memories.  I assume I've made a person or two feel the same way, and if they were to ever reveal themselves to me, I would sincerely and humbly apologize and search for the memories that were important to them.  If nothing else, I would listen and be thankful that I was a part of someone's recall... their personal tapestry.

My mother is in her 60s and has lost some dear friends over the past ten years.  Until recently, I never really thought about how that would feel.  I take for granted that T, Amy, Em and others will always be there when I call.  I don't want to have regrets. 

Chris and the boys are my natural priority in life.  This goes without saying for any partner or parent.  But the importance and value of friends... including the friends we're related to [my brother, my grandmother, my mother], and the friendships from our past, are at risk of slipping away due to busy, over-scheduled lives.  There are new friendships waiting to be nurtured and discovered, and I sincerely want and need to tend to some of them.

I've learned the hard way [jumping in too fast, revealing too much too soon] that the kinds of friendships that are worthy of the following two quotes are rare [which is unfortunate, really], often take years to develop and/or fall into the category of crossing paths with a kindred spirit.

A friend is a person with whom I may be sincere. Before him, I may think aloud.
    - Ralph Waldo Emerson, in "Friendship" in Essays, First series (1841)

Your friend is your needs answered. He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving. And he is your board and your fireside. For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.
    - Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet, 1923

**********

Twenty ten is here in all it's sunshiny glory.  I'm finally ready to embrace it with a few personal goals, and intentions of improving frugality and friendships, inspired by a person who modeled both words for me, and managed to do so while smiling -- displaying hope and happiness. [I'm blowing you a kiss, Mamaw.] 

I know she would sing this with me.

Unforgettable

Mary Jane Hautem, my grandmother, passed away on August 20, 2009, at approximately 2:00 p.m.  She would have been 92 on August 28th.

I was able to visit Mamaw in early July when we were in Arizona at my parents' house.  I saw her twice and knew when I said good-bye to her on the last visit, I'd never see her again, even though I promised a return trip to Arizona, without kids, for only her in August or September.  After our annual family trips to Arizona each summer, which are typically busy and hectic caring for kids and spending not-enough-time with family and friends, I have returned a couple of times a year solo so I could share time with Mamaw minus any other obligations or distractions.

Mamaw's physical and cognitive deterioration were evident in July compared to when I saw her in September 2008 and January 2009.  I started to write about the time we spent with her in July when I returned to Utah, but never posted.  Here's a portion:

Chris and I took the boys to visit her one day.  She was sitting at the kitchen table when we arrived.  Her back was towards us and when I walked around to look at her face, her eyes were closed.  She had a slight smile on her face.  I woke her and said, It's me again. ... Chrisy.  I brought Chris-Boy and the boys with me.  I looked in her eyes, begging her to know me.  She smiled, but I could tell she was confused and didn't recognize me.  She was in a different place in her mind, and I wasn't part of her experience.  But her departure was brief.

After a few moments she spoke slowly, still smiling and said, "Well sure it's you, Chrisy.  And look at these boys.  Let's go back to my house." [She meant her room.]

We walked her to her room in the Group Home.  Oldest Boy played his saxophone for her, Middle Boy played his guitar, and Toddler Child writhed around on the floor, growling and whining that he wanted to go home.  Chris and I tried to talk with Mamaw, but she can't hear well.  A true conversation was difficult, but we still managed to connect with her.  I know that she enjoyed watching the boys, even writhing, growling, rude Toddler Child.  I think she could have watched them for hours.  She stared shamelessly at each child, cocking her head, taking in every detail.  At one point she said, "I just love watching their expressions.  Don't you, Chrisy?"

After our visit I asked Oldest Boy if it made him sad to see the effects of age on Mamaw.  He said, No, not really.  I liked it that she was so cheerful.  That made me happy.

A little over four weeks ago, Mamaw was found on the floor in her room by one of the Group Home caregivers.  She had fallen, broken her femur and suffered a brain bleed.  After consulting with doctors at the hospital, and being informed that she would not survive surgeries to repair either injury, Dad and his brother made the difficult decision to move Mamaw to a hospice facility.  The length of her stay at hospice was longer than anyone expected.  It was an unfortunate and difficult process; the dying.  News of her death came as a relief.

Mamaw was a kindred spirit to me.  With no disrespect intended to the important and devoted people in my life, I've never felt more loved by anyone than by Mamaw.  She loved me, accepted me, forgave me, was honest with me, trusted me, apologized to me, and understood me.  I began missing and grieving her some time ago, and I'll miss her thirty years from now.

There was a time when Mamaw and Papaw lived in Tucson, Arizona, and Chris and I lived in Phoenix.  Chris and I spent many weekends in Tucson with them before we had kids.  We even took a week-long trip to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, when Mamaw and Papaw were 80.  We enjoyed spending time together and were compatible travel mates.

[Note: Papaw died in June 2007.]

 

I have vivid memories of swimming with Mamaw in her backyard pool while a portable cassette player played Natalie Cole's Unforgettable: With Love.  We called it our "synchronized swimming" as we side-stroked, back-stroked, and gracefully moved through the water to the music.  Mamaw sang.  Papaw sat in the shade and tapped his foot as he lifeguarded.  He didn't like Mamaw swimming alone.

I know the lyrics to "Unforgettable" were referring to a romantic relationship, but I believe Mamaw sang them to me when we swam, and I can honestly sing them to her.

Unforgettable, that's what you are
Unforgettable though near or far
Like a song of love that clings to me
How the thought of you does things to me
Never before has someone been more

Unforgettable in every way
And forever more, that's how you'll stay
That's why, darling, its incredible
That someone so unforgettable
Thinks that I am unforgettable too

Unforgettable in every way
And forever more, that's how you'll stay
That's why, darling, its incredible
That someone so unforgettable
Thinks that I am unforgettable too

-Irving Gordon

A few memories of Mamaw, including the last time I saw her. [The last 50 seconds or so of the video.]

Mamaw - Unforgettable from Chris Ross on Vimeo.

Just Doing My Job

We're in Arizona visiting my parents.  I spoke with Dad a few weeks ago...

"I have a 15-mile training run scheduled for the first Saturday we're in Scottsdale.  I'd like to run on trails if possible.  Anything close to your house?"

"We have some GREAT trails two or three miles from the house!  I'll send you a map."

The map arrived in the mail.  I studied it and was concerned about the topography and elevation gain.  I was hoping for relatively flat trails.  I called Dad.

"I'm looking at this map.  Looks kind of technical, Dad."

"You'll be fine. Those are GREAT trails!"

We arrived in Scottsdale after ten hours in the car with our three boys and the dog on Friday.  I had one beer, swam, ate some dinner and was in bed by 9:30 PM.  The alarm beeped at 4:00 AM, I got up, drank a cup of coffee, and ate half a peanut butter sandwich.  I loaded my water belt, and drove to the McDowell Sonoran Preserve.

The Death March Time Line

5:05 AM - I began running on the trail marked "easy".  The trail was not easy.  It turned left, then right, then left, then left, then right every 5-10 feet, was very rocky and I was already climbing steadily.  I determined it would be very important to pay attention to the trail so I wouldn't trip and fall.

5:40 AM - A Gila Monster was sitting in the middle of the trail 15 feet in front of me.  I stopped but the lizard didn't move.  Did Gila Monsters move lightning-fast or sloth-like slow?  I decided to run around the creature.  As I passed, it rapidly stomped it's feet and hissed like a cat.  Scared me to death.  I screamed and my adrenalin surged for the next three miles as paranoia now joined me on the run.

7:05 AM - Still running, hot, hungry [even though I was consuming gels] and feeling less paranoid because I finally saw a few people on the trails and assumed they would save me from venomous animals.

8:00ish - Still running, unbelievably hot, but almost finished. I had fallen twice, my left knee was bleeding and I was dusty and salty.  I was unable to run many sections of the "GREAT" trail so I was out longer than I wanted to be.  I'd forgotten how intense the Arizona sun is in July.

??? - I don't know exactly what time I finished, but I ran all 15 miles.  I drank lots of water and thought I'd properly recovered.  I called Mom to let her know I was okay and I was going to visit Dad at the golf course where he has a part-time job.

9:00 AM - I visited Dad.  We drove around in a golf cart and I met all his buddies.  I felt fine.  A little tired, but fine.  Dad suggested I visit Mamaw on the way home. I said, "But I'm gross." He shrugged his shoulders and tilted his head, indicating it didn't matter.

9:45 AM - I arrived at Mamaw's group home.  Sadly, she didn't recognize me...

"Mamaw.  It's me, Chrisy."

She smiled but I could tell she didn't know it was me.

"I'm gross, Mamaw.  I've been running... and I have braces now.  See?"  I showed her my teeth.

"Who are you running from?"

"No one.  I'm training for a marathon."

We visited for about 20 minutes and she finally knew who I was.  She commented many times on my braces.  "My, you have a mouthful," shaking her head.

10:15 AM - I told Mamaw I would return a few more times over the next week with Chris and the boys.  She seemed pleased.  We kissed good-bye and I was on my way to my parents' house.

10:25 AM - Something went very wrong.  I felt disoriented and dizzy while driving.  I felt like I was going to vomit or have diarrhea or both.  I pulled over and called Chris.

"Hey, I'm not well.  I'm not sure where I am and I think I might faint."

Chris and Mom arrived 15 minutes later.  Chris drove me home and helped me into the house.  I told him I just wanted to lay on the tile floor.

After resting for an hour on the floor and drinking Gatorade, I began feeling better. I've experienced heat exhaustion before, but never three hours after a workout.  I think I was salt and potassium deficient.  I actually felt a little embarrassed because I know how to avoid these situations.

As I was laying on the floor shivering with chills, Mom brought me a pillow and a blanket.

I said, "Thanks for coming to get me Mom.  I feel like an idiot.  I'm sorry for the drama..."

"That's okay.  It's your job."

Holding Hands

I don't participate in writing prompts often [publicly], but as I've shared previously, one of the most welcoming group of bloggers can be found over at Deb's of San Diego Momma.  Deb supplies writing prompts every Tuesday.  If you ever choose to participate, I guarantee your writing will be read and your efforts supported and encouraged.  You can't go wrong.

This week's prompt is "L-O-V-E".  You can read about it here.

I worked on a post about "love" and decided it read like I was pontificating.  I don't want to do that.  We all have sweet, interesting, meaningful [to us] stories about how we met our significant other, how wonderful and passionate portions of our lives and love have been.  "We're best friends [vomit].  We do everything together [puke].  We finish each other's sentences [bullshit].  We complete each other [fingers in ears, la-la-la-la-la]."  Even if these things are true, most of it is best kept private - it rarely reads well, people.  It's a select few who can get away with expressing to the world in detail, the love and respect shared between a committed couple.

I used to work with a woman who always talked about she and her husband's sex life.  It ruined my lunch every day because I couldn't get the visual out of my head.  We all have sex.  We've all had good sex.  None of us invented it, so caress your ego somewhere else.  Even better, share all the mush and high-fives with your partner - or Penthouse Forum.

Chris and I have been married 19 years, together more than 20 - just the facts.  For the record, I don't believe someone's time together is an indication of the health of the relationship.  [Chris and I are fine - no worries.]  We've had our challenges and our times of ease.  I assume we'll have more of both in the future.

When I think of the best relationship advice we've received, two examples come to mind.

We'd been married only a couple of years and already felt the need to see a marriage counselor.  [We're the generation that goes to a therapist for everything.]  I was working as an administrative assistant for three PhDs.  One of the PhD's was a man named Charles.  He was in his late 70s and found himself needing to return to work later in life, not unlike many older people in this economy.  He had been married over 50 years and had what appeared to be a very traditional marriage.

Charles and I were often the only two people in the office.  One day Charles overheard me talking with Chris on the phone and I was crying by the end of the call.  He came over and offered me his handkerchief, which I politely accepted even though I'd seen him using it earlier.  He asked me if I needed to talk, so I told him the story.  What Chris said and felt, what I said and felt, what the therapist said...  Charles listened.  In a soft and assured voice, he said, "When you go home tonight, you two just sit on the couch and hold hands.  Watch the news quietly.  It sounds like you kids have talked enough.  Just hold hands, and sit, and don't talk.  Rest."

He was right.  I think we were in a ditch, and the therapist was over-complicating the situation.  We needed to step out of the ditch and walk away from it.  Not analyze from several angles how we got in the ditch, and all the possible ways to get out - just hop out of the ditch.  So we did.

There are obviously times that require labor-intensive communication to resolve issues, but this wasn't one of them.

The second example that comes to mind is something my Mamaw said.  Chris and I were having dinner with she, Papaw, my parents, and Chris' parents several years ago. We were finished eating, enjoying conversation and a little more wine.  Someone asked Mamaw and Papaw what the key was to being married so long.  They shrugged and smiled, the conversation moved along.  We began discussing  sleep patterns, like what time we went to bed at night and got up in the morning.  Papaw said, "I'm an early riser so I go to bed about 8:00 o'clock.  Jane here, she likes to sleep in, so she stays up much later than I do."

Mamaw raised her eyebrows, lifted her glass and said, "That's... how we've stayed married so long."

[Mamaw, Papaw, Oldest Boy and Middle Boy - July 2004]

The Damn Scam

First Offense:  Phoenix, Arizona - August 2008

Mamaw was watching television, most likely with the newspaper folded in such a way in front of her on the coffee table that she could glance at it and be reminded of the date.  She likes to know what day it is.  The phone rang.  Upon answering, she heard the voice of a young man claiming to be her grandson. 

"Hi!  It's your grandson!"  She was naturally pleased, because it's rare that her adult grandsons call her.

"Is this Patrick?" she asked.  The young man said he was.  He told her he was in some trouble.  Please don't tell any other family members.  He was in jail and needed a few thousand dollars to post bail.

The story didn't jive for Mamaw.  Not because she didn't think it was Patrick, but because she didn't think he should be calling her for money.  Mamaw told Dad later in the day about the call and said she didn't think it was a good idea to send money.  Dad listened to Mamaw's story and quickly concluded she hadn't been called by one of her grandsons.  He explained what had likely happened to her. 

Mamaw is 91 years old.  I've written about her here and here.

Second Offense:  Bellevue, Washington - March 2009

Chris' grandmother received a call from a young man claiming to be her "favorite grandson".   She, like Mamaw, was delighted to hear from one of her adult grandsons.  She assumed it was Chris.  [He's obviously her favorite.]  The young man said he was in some trouble.  He also requested other family members not be alerted because he was embarrassed and would explain later.  He needed $3700 wired immediately - he was in jail in Vancouver.

Chris' grandmother told his grandfather about the phone call and together they made a trip to the bank.  They withdrew money and prepared to wire funds to their favorite grandson.

Chris' grandfather became suspicious while talking with the young man as they were getting specific wiring instructions.  He began asking the favorite grandson questions to confirm his identity.  The perp cracked when Grandpa Ross asked, "What's your dog's name?"  He hung-up.

Grandma and Grandpa Ross are 84 and 85 years old.

Lessons Learned

1. Grandchildren of Mamaw - If you're in trouble, Mamaw might send you a file in a cake to spring you from the clink.  Don't hold your breath for cash.  Go to Plan B.
2. Grandchildren of Grandma and Grandpa Ross - Ensure you have Grandma and Grandpa's contact information on your person at all times.  Specific wiring instructions for your financial institution would be helpful also.
3. Favorites - My brother Mallory Joe is NOT Mamaw's favorite grandson.  Chris IS the favorite grandson of Grandma and Grandpa Ross.
4. Mary [our dog] - She gets extra treats this month for saving Grandma and Grandpa money.  She really is like Lassie...

Seriously, warn the older people in your life about this scam.

Conversations with Mamaw

She didn't see me walk in the kitchen or notice that I was standing behind her.  She looked smaller but still pretty and had a pleasant look on her face as she raised her glass of apple juice to the table of five other elderly people and said, "Cheers!"

I touched her shoulder, she turned and smiled big, "Oh!  It's you!"

I last saw Mamaw in September and she was still living in a two-bedroom apartment at an assisted living facility.  She was in the moment, but aware her short-term memory was poor and her physical strength was deteriorating.  Several weeks later, she had an abrupt decline in her cognitive and physical health.  Dad had to make the difficult decision to move her to a residential group home.  Mamaw, although tired and confused, agreed and didn't debate the decision.  She's been living in a house with seven other elderly people, all requiring significant care.

I said, "Look who I brought.  It's Toddler Child."  She was happy and thought for a moment, "Now, am I his great-aunt?"  I told her no, that she was his great-grandmother.  "Oh, hells bells.  Of course I am.  Damn, Chrisy.  Getting old is for the birds.  I mean to tell you."

We went to her room.  It's a generous bedroom that accommodates her desk, a queen-size bed, and an easy chair with a footstool.  She asked for a pillow and tossed it on the floor when I handed it to her.  I wasn't sure what she was going to do.  She began to lower herself in an effort to sit on the floor.  I asked her what she was doing.  She said she wanted to play cars with Toddler Child.

 

Toddler Child asked for a stick of gum.  Mamaw said, "I haven't had bubble gum in years.  Could I have a piece?"  I said, "Sure.  But I'm gonna tell you what I tell Toddler Child, chew, chew, chew.  Don't swallow it."  She laughed, took the gum and chewed it for the remainder of our visit.  When I returned the following day, her chewed gum was stuck to the lamp on her nightstand.  She was saving it.

We thought it would be nice to get some fresh air and walk around the backyard.  I asked Mamaw if I could help her up from her spot on the floor.  She declined and said she's more comfortable figuring it out for herself.  I said, "If you get hurt, Dad's gonna kill me."  "Don't you worry," she said.

We stopped in the bathroom across the hall before heading outside.  Mamaw wanted to grab a tissue.  We tried to take an artsy-fartsy picture.  I can never do this right, but Mamaw seemed to enjoy it.

 

While we were outside I asked Mamaw if she was happy.  She said, "Oh, in a perfect world, I'd have my own little house, and my own yard, but an older person needs help with the details of life.  I can't manage the details anymore."  She also said, "Being older is one of the most difficult times of my life.  It's terrible when you can't remember things.  All I really hope for now is that I die without a struggle, and in my sleep."  I told her I hoped that for her too.

Mamaw and I have talked about death openly since I was a little girl.  I vividly remember asking her questions about death, heaven, fear, pain, if anyone she'd buried had ever contacted her.  She always took me seriously and answered honestly, even when she didn't really know the answer.  When I was about 10 years old, I respectfully requested that upon her death, she please contact me to tell me what the real story was, but only if she could do it without frightening me.  She agreed.

The first day I visited Mamaw she wasn't wearing her signature red lipstick.  We arrived while she was eating lunch, and the excitement of our visit threw off her routine.  She'd had her hair done earlier that morning so she looked pretty and coiffed.  She prefers her naturally curly hair a little less "done" but was happy to have the shampoo and cut.

When I returned the following day, without Toddler Child, we were able to lounge on her bed together and talk.  Like girls at a slumber party.  She had run a comb through the coiffed hairdo and tried to get her natural curls to do their thing, and she had on her red lipstick.

 

We chatted, she touched me a lot, and I her.  We looked at our nails and fluffed our hair, sifted through old cards and letters in her desk, and talked about death, again.

I said, "Mamaw, I'll be back in a few months, and Chris and all three boys will be with me."  "Good!" she said.  I said, "Now please don't forget, if and when you die, I really want you to contact me, but ONLY if you don't scare me."

"God I'm glad you reminded me of that, Honey.  That's always been important to you.  I'll do it.  But only if I can't scare you?  What if I have to startle you a little?"

I said, "Use your best judgment, but err on the side of caution."

She laughed and gave me a little smack.

I think we'll be able to buff that right out...

Toddler Child and I are in Arizona.  We flew here on Thursday and return to Utah later this afternoon.  I'm here primarily to visit my grandmother - Mamaw - and I have Toddler Child with me because I lost the bet.  We're staying with Mom and Dad and things are going fine, although I'm tired. 

I'll post more about my time with Mamaw when I get home.  She's failing but it was wonderful to see her.

Toddler Child has a cold. [Of course.  I'm traveling alone with him.]  He developed symptoms about 20 minutes after we got off the plane in Phoenix.  This was after he spent the flight yelling, "Captain!  I need some orange juice!  Captain! Caaaaptain!"

Mom let me borrow her car to run to the store to get cold medicine.  I'll make this short.  I hit the house.  Backed right into it. In my defense, my car beeps when I get too near something [like a house] when I'm in reverse.  Her's does not.  My car has large windows and excellent visibility.  She drives a tiny convertible -- like a clown car -- with small windows and poor visibility.  It's like driving with a bag over your head.

I pulled the car back into the garage and entered the house to confess, only after contemplating if Mom and Dad would notice the damage to the car... and... the house.  I couldn't fly this one under radar.

"Hey, Mom."  She looked up from her spot on the floor playing with Toddler Child.  "I hit the house.  Sorry."

I'm a terrible driver, as shared in item number one in this post.  These things don't surprise or alarm my parents or husband.  When Chris and I were first married, I parked the car in our garage, on top of the lawn mower.

I showed Mom the damage, told her we'd pay for the repairs and went to the store.  Dad had been in their bedroom/bathroom showering after a bike ride.  Coincidentally, the part of the house that I hit.

When I returned from the store, Dad was in his office.  I walked in to tell him what I'd done and apologize.  He said he was in the shower when he heard and felt the "impact".  I asked him what he thought it was.  He said, "I figured Chrisy hit the house." 

Thanks.

Rainy days and Mondays always get me down. So does watching old home movies...

It's Monday, and it's raining.  Oldest Boy had a hard time getting up this morning so I sang The Carpenter's song to him.  Funny, it didn't help.

Chris spent time over the weekend transferring old Hi8 tapes to our computer.  [We recently converted to Macs and the easy, intuitive part hasn't kicked in yet for me.  I use this large-screened, high-powered computer like a $500 PC.  I don't know what I'm doing.]  The tapes transferred in real time and were displayed on the computer screen during the process.  We all enjoyed checking out what was playing throughout the weekend.  Oldest Boy couldn't take his eyes off himself.

Watching footage from 9-12 years ago left Chris and me both feeling...  unique.  Not good and not bad.  It's intense.  I enjoy watching video of recent events, but the emotions that accompany viewing life when significant time has passed - are heavy.

I saw my grandfather, who's now deceased.  And my grandmother, who's physically and cognitively deteriorated.  It was almost too much.  Too much feeling.  I wanted to jump into the computer - to go back - and at the same time, look away. 

Watching the births (not literally - I was opposed to the actual birth being filmed) of Oldest and Middle Boy left me stirred.  Seeing glimpses of our life 10 years ago was conflicting.  The scenes captured were happy and cute, but I remember the moments when I was less patient, uptight about unimportant things, and I want the opportunity to right those.  I know Mother and Mamaw would both say, "Honey, I understand."

I just spoke with Em on the phone. (She's a dear fleshly friend who is NOT jealous of my bloggy friends - is that better Em?)  Her father passed away much too young a few years ago.  She said it's hard to watch video of her dad, but she finds comfort in it too.  We concluded that maybe the more we view images, the confusing, intense emotions will soften.  I don't know...

If I knew how to pull a few seconds of the transferred data in iMovie to imbed in my post, I would.  If it wasn't a rainy Monday, I bet I could figure it out.

 

We're all feeling a little melancholy today.  Dumb Carpenters.

Mamaw

My grandmother - Mamaw - turned 91 on August 28th.  She lives in Arizona and it pains me that we don't live closer.  She's well cared for by Dad and Mother, so it's not that I'm needed.  I just miss her.

I traveled to Arizona on Thursday to visit her for a few days.  I usually stay with Mamaw in the assisted living apartment where she lives.  It's very nice and comfortable, but she takes so much rest now and is easily confused, I decided to stay at Mom and Dad's this time.

My Papaw died in June of 2007 at the age of 90.  He had Alzheimer's and passed relatively peacefully.  He and Mamaw had lived apart for a few years due to the care he required.  Mamaw visited Papaw faithfully a couple of times a week until he died.  Over the past year when I would ask Mamaw if she missed Papaw she would respond honestly, "No.  Not really."  This visit when I asked her, she seemed to miss him.

Things I want to remember...

Hair and Happy Hour - We went to Mamaw's hair appointment Friday afternoon.  She enjoyed having her hair washed and head scratched.  With the confidence and mood boost a fresh hairdo gives any girl, we walked to the lobby for a piano concert and Happy Hour.  The pianist finished the set with Sentimental Journey, and we all sang God Bless America.  Mamaw's neighbor Lou (87) kept trying to kiss her.  She turned her head each time and told me he was trouble.  Lou told me he wished I was younger so we could "do things together".  I told Lou my husband wouldn't like that.

Dinner with Lou - Friday evening we shared a table at dinner with Lou and a new gal, Kaye.  Lou struggled to play both ends against the middle with Mamaw and Kaye.  He sat between the two ladies and his head went left to right, right to left.  Lou told me one of his grandsons had recently been there per instruction from his father.  The 25-year old grandson said to Lou, "Dad says you need to go to the bank.  After that Dad says I need to take you to get some pants."  Lou said he made it to the bank and got his pants, but he thought it was ironic that the grandson was driving his truck.  Lou's keys had been confiscated recently - something he didn't protest.

Lipstick and a Nap - When I arrived at Mamaw's on Saturday afternoon with beer [she requested a few beers for her refrigerator even though Lou repeatedly said he had plenty and she could come by anytime] she was asleep on her couch, still in her nightgown and robe.  She remembered some of our day together Friday, but needed help to find the memory.  I encouraged her to get ready for dinner - which takes a while - then I stretched out on her couch.  I slept lightly for about an hour as she puttered in and out of her bedroom and office, covered me with a quilt, looked at me, mumbled, "Now what was I doing?" all while carrying her lipstick.  (She doesn't go anywhere without it.)  I enjoyed watching her with one eye while I rested.  I finally got up and encouraged her to put on her lipstick so we could go to dinner.  "Okay Doll!"

Dinner with Gretchen and Louise - We shared a table with Gretchen (90) and Louise (87) on Saturday evening.  Apparently there'd been a "falling out" with these girls a week or two prior, leaving some hurt feelings.  I'm still not clear what happened.  Gretchen very gently and sweetly passed Mamaw something on the table under her hand and said, "I'm glad you're back.  I save these for you every night."  They were the croutons from her salad.  Mamaw looked at me and said, "Gretchen doesn't like croutons, and I love them."  They smiled at one another and held hands a moment. ... Louise was quite chatty through the meal, very nice actually.  I overheard Gretchen complain to Mamaw that Louise monopolizes the conversation every time they have a guest.  Mamaw agreed.

Why I Don't Have Little Girls - After dinner Saturday night, Mamaw and I were making rounds in the lobby, visiting with some residents.  A pretty, petite woman wearing a pink cardigan, using a walker, joined a conversation Mamaw and I were having with four other women.  They were asking me about my three sons.  The woman in the pink cardigan spoke very loudly and cheerfully, "You have no girls?"  No, I said, just the boys.  "You didn't move in bed!" she said.  I raised my eyebrows.  She continued, "If you want girls you need to move a little in bed.  You obviously didn't move."  A bit embarrassed, I said, "My grandmother's standing right here..."  She said, "Whether or not you move in bed has nothing to do with your grandmother Honey."  Oh.  Thank you.

It's never easy saying goodbye to Mamaw.  I feel so loved.  She squeezes me hard, pats my rear, kisses me sincerely and shamelessly on the face, then wipes her red lipstick off my cheeks.  She tells me to be careful and be good, and blows kisses as I drive away - not moving - until she can no longer see me.