Flowers--Jerry brought me flowers.

I love flowers. I even like the silk ones. We met in the fall of 1956, and by that spring we were inseparable.  His afternoon class was Agriculture and sports. I had seen those beautiful roses flowing over the walls of the rock wall. Beautiful light Yellow, Pink and then the red one too.

One day he met me at the door going out of the school and gave me this damp paper towel. He had picked that rose - taken the thorns off and wrapped the flower in that wet paper napkin so it would last longer. AND he gave me that rose in front of everyone.

He really did love me.

From the book---

After we met, we were never apart, meeting for lunch and walking back to the school where we would find a place next to my next class. He always had AG classes in the afternoon and he would wait til the last minute and then run fast to get to his class. I think he probably was late most of those days.

That first spring when the flowers bloomed I was amazed. There were roses all along the street outside of the high school. The AG barn was across the street from the main school building and even though it didn’t look like a barn, that’s what it was called. Surrounding the barn were various homes, homes that had roses. Some of which had grown enough to fall over the fences. And every Spring, every school day, he would bring me a rose. The thorns were taken off and he cuddled them up in wet paper towels, so they would stay as fresh as possible. When we moved to England he brought me flowers almost every time he went into Yarmouth. I’m sitting in front of my computer and I smell the flowers he brought me so often.

The year before he died was the last Spring he remembered the roses.

What came to my mind as I wrote that?

Even though he was having trouble talking, he knew that I loved flowers, so he brought me some. Some were Iris. Some were roses. Some were those little purple flowers, weeds actually. But all were given to me in love. I was overwhelmed when he brought that first hand full of roses that last time.  What a soul filling thing to do. He was getting worse every week and he saw those roses. He even took the thorns off like he always did. He loved me and showed that. Very simple but so heart felt. 

More Tomorrow

Can't let this go

Today I have Sarah and Baby Girl to stay with me..Baby Girl is Dave's furry person and you know that Sarah is mine.

Have you ever watched two dogs lay down?  In all my years I have never noticed that dogs, not puppies, sleep facing the same way. It's like the Alpha female or male, has the choice and all the rest have to follow.

Last night I was looking at the dogs and they were both sleeping with their heads to the west and on their left side.

Then later after drinks for the both of them, they laid down again and were facing west again but they were on their right side. Then they moved to the north.

It was so interesting to watch them as switched places and stopped facing the same direction.

What would we do without our furry babies?

Sarah gets onto the sofa with me every morning and after about thirty minutes she goes over to the recliner.  Then she might go the the old recliner.

But, if  I go into the kitchen she follows me and begs for food. She doesn't play with toys. She's never chases a ball. She has never-----add what you want. She just likes food. So when she got to be 19 pounds I put the both of us on a diet. We get good food, but not as much as we used to. We also get ice cream every once in a while. And we get yogurt. No sugar just the sweet from the peaches.

We both are doing good with the food.

And one day I'll find out if other dogs sleep like Baby Girl and Sarah.

More tomorrow

Changes are coming

I have come to a place in my life that I need to address.

This blog name has run it's course and I am in the process of starting another blog.

Sometimes we just need help with family members who are older. I myself am not a spring chicken, but I know one day I will need to know that there are people who can keep me happy and socialized and just in a good mood.

So I started this blog -- StayCALM-HaveCourage.  It will be a few days until it's all ready and I will let you know.

I will continue with this blog too, but I will change the things that I blog. 

More later

Alzheimer lets talk about it

This is not an easy thing to talk about, but it's necessary because there is not a family in this country that hasn't had someone in their family that hasn't had this problem.

As Jerry went farther into this disease, I found myself, Not overwhelmed, realy--just a little confused.

The road rage was the first thing that really bothered me. In the book I wrote this---

And then comes the driving, actually, not driving episode.

Driving was an adventure to be nice about it. I looked up one day and he was striding the white line down the middle of the road.

You’ll get put in jail for reckless driving—I said.

No answer.

Why don’t you move over to the right—I said.

I have it—he said

What do you have—I asked.

I can get to one side or the other and they can’t get in front of me—he said

Road rage!!!

I talked to the kids and they agreed that he didn’t need to be driving. I thought and prayed because for some reason he wouldn’t let me drive when he was home—and now I was going to have to take the keys away from him. Then God told me—it’s time. I began asking him to let me drive so I could get used to it again in case I needed to drive. That was ok with him.

A month or two went around. He had begun helping me by cleaning the kitchen after I cooked and then put dishes in the dishwasher. I cooked, and he cleaned. He came into the living room from the kitchen ne night. I could tell he was upset. He got half way into the room and putting his fist to his hip asked, “why can’t I drive.”

I was almost too firm when I told him that I was getting tired of having to tell him which way to turn or to go straight. But that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. This is where it was all God’s words. I took a big deep breath and said,” if you want to drive, just answer me this.”

Chapter 20

I asked him to tell me my name including my maiden name AND my birthday. Just like God told me to ask. Not loud, no sarcasm, no tears, just asking a question. I waited until he said,” well it is what it is.” “My name is not, it is what it is” I replied. He grinned and went and finished in the kitchen. I knew that asking for him to say my maiden name would be hard for him, as my maiden name is Kretsinger. He never did say it right. He told me he had to marry me, so he could say my last name—which was my married name by then.

And that’s when I was wondering if he didn’t know who I was. He knew he liked me, but he didn’t know that I was his wife. And yes, I cried about that. A lot. I still think about those times, of course, because he has not been in Heaven even a year. I wondered why he would not be upset when we got in the bed together. Because he didn’t know that I was his wife or even my name why would he not be upset when I got into the bed too. I did a lot of prayer about that. God told me this after that prayer was sent up to Him.

Don’t worry. It’s ok. He knows you in his being. He knows you love him and he knows that it’s what he needs. Your—meaning me—presence keeps him calm and as strong as he can be.

The next couple of days I kept those tears in but one day they dripped out anyway. I started out of the house, so he wouldn’t see me crying. He came and slowly and tenderly, turned me around and hugged me close, and gave me a kiss. Even though he didn’t remember my name, he was still taking care of me.

More tomorrow

Alzheimer-Jerry and me

I’ve about decided that Dad was a house flipper.   I remember lots of houses over lots of years. The house I remember best is the one in Los Angeles in the area that was Culver City at that time but is now Universal City. If I’m wrong about that let me know. Down the street from our house was a lot. LOTS of weeds and LOTS of concrete walkways. Something new and exciting. Something for a lonely young girl to keep her imagination going. The stories I would make up about why the concrete walkways were there. Millions of reasons. Why would someone put this amazing puzzle so close to our house? It was a wonderful place for me to be. Did I even think that this was someone else’s? No, it didn’t even occur to me. Was I worried I would get into trouble. Never. I don’t remember how long it took for someone else to find my spot. I was walking the walkways when this man hollered. He came to where I was and told me that those walkways were foundations for new homes. I was not supposed to be there as I could get hurt---I had to go home—but I didn’t have to like it.

Those twists and turns were a lot like a maze. Twist here and then go a little way—twist again and go the other way. Dead ends. Weeds. Trash. Those concrete walkways had grabbed hold of my imagination and would not let me go.

After a week or two, of course, back I went. The concrete walkways were calling my name.

The day I went back there were four boys picking up pieces of concrete and throwing them at each other. I was watching them just like I watched Phil and his friends. Little did I suspect what was coming. One of them saw me and said, “what are you doing in our fort?” They told me I had to go home; this was THEIR fort.

I stood there thinking I had as much right as they did to be there. I decided I was gonna stay. Then I became the target. Pieces of concrete flew by my head. Some of them hit in front of me. I got scared and ran home crying. Phil went there and put a hurt on those guys. And as far as I can remember, he did more than just talk to them. Dad had taught him to box and he was making good use of his teaching. There we were—Phil, four boys and me—and then THE men showed up. After Phil talked to the men we had to go home. I never saw those boys again. Phil to the rescue once more.

The next day, mom was cleaning out the fish pond. As I have said before--I was a nosey little person.  The ways of the fish and how the water ran through and around the pond, how it got up to the waterfall—it all fascinated me. I figured the best way to find out was to get into the water and follow the flow. WRONG!

In I went. I got about half way around before something started nibbling me. The closer I got to the other side of the waterfall the more it stung. I heard mom call my name. I could tell from the tone of her voice that I was NOT supposed to be in the fish pond. Oh man, I’d done it again! My curiosity had gotten me in trouble AGAIN. I found out that you don’t walk in water that is close to electricity. If the wires get frayed even a little it can shock you. It fascinated me that the fish weren’t nipping me it was the electricity. I also learned that the electricity was needed to make the water go back up the waterfall, so it could come down again. The things you can learn when you ask questions—or ramble around until you find out something new.

Well, I never did that again either; nor was I allowed to help finish cleaning that waterfall.

Some more houses. New kid on the block again. By myself again. No one to skate with or play dolls with. No one to talk to.

It was me-just me. I was having to learn to depend on myself.

Somewhere between the beach and Eagle Rock, Phil and I went to summer camp. Things were not so much fun at home. There was screaming and slapping at night. Lots of nights. It got so bad that I would climb into bed with Phil. He would pull me close and put his arm around me. Dad started taking us to the baseball games when the LA Angels were in town. We’d get home and it would start all over again.

That summer we were sent off to camp. I can only imagine how bad it was at home for dad to send us off like that. I do remember getting letters from dad, but I couldn’t read them because I could only read printing. The lady in the room kept telling me that she would read them to me, but she didn’t have time. And they stayed in my bag for the rest of the time we were there.

Do I remember anything about camp? Yes, I do, but not much. Memories include singing around the firepit at night. Crafts and bows and arrows. Playing in the lake. That’s when I found out fish pee in the water. Uggg!! AND we were swimming in that water!

It was the night of all nights. I suppose that being away from home had me worried. That night Phil was sitting across from me--my world lit up. Phil was there!! I was so happy. My Phil was there to be with me for dinner. And then they brought out the food. Someone put these green things on my plate. Slimy, fuzzy green food looks VERY unappetizing to a child whose life has been turned upside down. As they say it today I had “issues”—I’d say I was extremely afraid because my life was so hurtful. I, to this day do not eat fuzzy food.

I screamed. I cried. I ran out of the room. I’ve always been dramatic and obviously this was one of the best because I remember it after seventy years. Phil came running after me. Grabbed me and all I can remember anyone saying is---that’s the kids with parents who are getting a divorce, right? I had no clue what a divorce was. Phil told me something and I calmed down. We went back into the dining hall. I still wouldn’t eat any of that fuzzy green stuff! NO WAY.

The letters. AHHH the letters, from dad, finally. The letters that the counselor didn’t have time to read to me—or even find someone else to read to me. Finally, someone read my letters the day we were to leave. The major part was about what was going on at home. All good. Last sentence tells me to get on the bus home with Phil. That bus had already left. They put me on the other bus that went to a different part of LA. Of course, I didn’t know that at the time. Phil wasn’t there when I got off the bus. I had no idea where he was. I cried hot huge tears. Dad FINALLY showed up with Phil.

I cried--- again.

Dad was—of course—mad. But for some reason I knew he wasn’t mad at Phil or me. The car was an old one and going up Mount Wilson was not good on cars anyway. And another reason for him to be mad—he didn’t know where we were for a very long time. It was traumatic for all of us. I was wondering where mom was. This must have happened sometime in 1947. There was no divorce. But, I was anxious about that for a long time.

Nana--lots to think about

Yes there is LOTS to think about.

What am I supposed to do? My pastor says to pray -- I already do that. My friends say to go on trips.
I like going but not all the time.

I have started the blog again and I really like that, and some days finish a piece or two. And I might even start on a third.

I got a lot to talk about and some to just write about and then there are the days I just can't think of anything to put out there.

Today is a "put it out there" day-really appreciate the way the kids ---

I don't cooking as much as I thought I would. Cooking for one is for the BIRDS.

I like the way the kids help me. I feel so blessed because I know there are lots of  people whose kids don't even call--or they don't call mom or dad back.

Hot weather is not my favorite.  I really like cold better because i can put on lots more clothes than I can take off.
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I wonder about a lot of things I never thought about before. I wonder why I don't call my friends like most women do.  After thinking about that for months I have decided it's because I've spent most of my life by myself. I'm not mad or sad about that--it's just how it was. But now I can call because it's just me and I'm not moving. The only way I can remember to call is make a list for that day and call. I

It's so much fun to talk to women. Betty makes quilts for her great grands for Christmas. She makes the most beautiful quilts, So, I ask her how she does this or that. She always makes coffee or tea.  She makes the BEST tea---oh it's so yummy. And she uses dried tea. You know the kind that comes in a bottle. It tastes like my mom made with boiled water and teabags in that water for I don't know how long.

Well, I don't make a good tea with boiled tea bags, or even like Betty does. But I figured out how to make good tea.

Get yourself a quart container. fill it full of water. Put in two of the big tea bags and put it in the fridge for four hours at least.

Not, that tea tastes good.

Learning how to stand up

Jerry passed away two years ago. I had my grief period. He was at home until his last three weeks on earth.

I had been told the areas of grief, I just didn't think I would be so mad. But this last October to January I was extremely mad about some of the things he did--or didn't do--for me, and for the kids.

And then I realized that I was more mad at myself for not speaking up for myself and for the kids. It's not like he would be abusive, he just worked all the time.

He had a list every day of before breakfast things to do, after breakfast things to do, after lunch things to do, and after supper things to do. And none of it would include the kids or me. I did get tired of that and figured out a way to make him change his mind a little.

When the first STAR WARS came out we were living in Great Yarmouth England. The kids wanted to go see that movie and so did I.

I asked him at breakfast if he would take us to the movie that night and he said no because that kinda movie was not real like the westerns are. I didn't say anything else about it.

We had a really good supper--if I remember right it was steak, mashed potato, macaroni and cheese and ice cream for dessert. He was happy

I went and changed my clothes and the kids came down the stairs.

I asked him if he wanted to go with us to the movie and he said "no".

I got the car keys and said "we'll see you when it's over".

"What  do you mean?"

I said, "I told the kids we were going tonight and you can go with us if you want to."

He got up, combed his hair and off we went. He really enjoyed that movie.

No screaming or making him feel bad, just a little assertiveness.

Works most every time.

When I remembered that I realized that I had been only thinking about when we first married and I was just the "little wife". Did what he said and put up with his workaholic ways.

And then I learned how I could be myself and still spoil him rotten.

More Tomorrow