Spring will come -- someday

This is Rachel Beth again, chiming in from Chapel Hill, NC, where it SNOWED last night. Didn't stick, but still. Seems that the weather suddenly remembered that it forgot to do winter this year, and is making up for lost time, now that we've planted our spring flowers and veggies and bought our springtime Easter duds.

The unseasonably cold weather reminds me of the beautiful frilly Easter dresses my Grandma Willine used to buy for me when I was a very little girl. Since Easter marks the return of spring in Ventura and most of the rest of the Christian world, these dresses were spring- or summertime confections, lovely and lightweight. Since we like as not still had snow at Easter in Klamath Falls, I always had to cover up my Easter finery with a heavy winter coat, which always seemed grossly inappropriate.

This Easter, it will apparently be about 10 degrees warmer in Klamath Falls than it will be in Chapel Hill, so one could comfortably wear springtime clothing there, although it would be a good idea to bundle up if you're going to a sunrise service in either town.

In honor of the chilliness of Easters past and present, here's one of my favorite pictures of Grandpa Jim (admittedly taken closer to Christmas than Easter). He's acting the renegade some 25-30 years ago in Klamath Falls, a couple of blocks from my parents' house. I have never seen a horse on the sidewalk other than the one in this picture, but the signs are still there.

Blessed Easter, everyone!

Happy Birthday!

Hello, loyal readers, if there are any of you left. There has been little news on this weblog because, well, there has been little news to report. That, and the people who would report such news as there is have been busy with other things. For instance, Robin (who, despite the signature tag at the bottom of this post, is not the author of these words) is busy writing at least two books, finishing his doctorate, and leading a church.

So. Jim's latest news is that for about a month he has been sojourning with Robin and Louise in Klamath Falls. He flew from Dallas to Oregon on March 2 with Louise, who was returning from the east coast for a visit with her daughter Rachel (who has hacked into her father's google account to post this update) in Durham/Chapel Hill, North Carolina.

Jim's daily routine seems to be much the same in whichever of the three households of his children he happens to reside. He reads, watches TV, putters about the yard if the weather cooperates, helps around the house (next major project: help Robin install a retractable awning over the back deck), goes on outings with the family.

Jim's other news is that he is celebrating a birthday this week: on Friday, he will be 84 years young. Happy birthday, Grandpa!

Lacking any current photos to add to the website, here's one from the archives: Jim and Robin, circa, oh, I would guess 1949ish, probably in Fort Worth. Perhaps you who are in the picture can confirm or correct the details.

Twister

This picture was taken the day after Christmas. My Pastor (Alf Halvorson) and his family came over for dinner. Dad really enjoyed talking with Alf. Later, he became the dial spinner for a rousing game of twister.

Kitti and kids left for Wheaton on Wed. to spend time with the Dodds and the Klosters (good friends from our days in IL). Dad and I stayed in Springfield and kept our routine.

Today is Tuesday. Jim and Rachel Wisehart are in route from Dallas to Springfield to pick up Dad. So that will be it for this visit. I'm not sure what will happen to this blog spot. I may continue to post things from time to time so keep checking when you get the chance. Others may want to take up the blog and post pictures or make comments. If so, let me know and I will forward instructions. Until then, remember:

Right hand red--left foot blue!

What day is it really?

A number of years ago, one of my students reviewed the literature on communication and Alzheimer’s. Her grandmother was diagnosed with the disease so she wanted to know what the communication discipline had to offer in these cases. Very little, it turned out, but the title of her report was instructive: “It’s O.K. if it’s not Tuesday.”

Her paper suggested that if we know anything about communication in general, we can be sure that most of what we know goes out the window when Alzheimer’s (or dementia for that matter) arrives. That is, the things that seem important to most people (like, what day it really is) have little meaning for people with Alzheimer’s. Most of us are bound by time and space as evidenced by our preoccupation with time, appointments, what’s next. People, like my dad, are really living in what ever happens to be happening--right now.

Dad isn’t suffering from Alzheimer’s (or dementia) the way you hear about in many cases. Jim Wisehart and my brother Robin have helped him get the medical care and medication he needs to hold some of the stuff at bay (for which I am grateful). Still he deals with certain things that make his life significantly different than mine. We live in different realities which make it difficult for us to connect. Since he arrived, I have been impressed with how much of my “talk” has to do with details and planning—what happens tomorrow and the next day and next week and what has to happen so those things can happen the way that I planned. Which is to say that, for me right now, it really matters if it is Tuesday?

This is all very interesting to me because much of this blog has been about time and space and how we are managing it. It is arranged somewhat chronologically around Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years. And you know what? Dad doesn’t give a flip about what year it is, what day it is, or really what time it is. But, guess what? He knows what is going on right now—mostly—and I am glad for that. So, in that regard, I guess it doesn’t really matter what day it is.

ram

We walk--he talks

There’s no snow on the ground but it is cold enough—35 degrees with a breeze. Dad and I walk around the block. Four laps make a mile. Dad talks while we walk.

I ask if he remembers cold days in Rexford, KS. He says when they traveled from Dallas to candidate at Rexford Comm. Church, it snowed so hard that the roads closed--towns shut down. They (Dad, Mom and, who knows, probably my brother Robin) stopped on the side of the road just outside Oakley, KS. The kindness of strangers with a truck led to an overnight stay in an underground home—sort of a dugout situation, like a sod house or something.

In a phone call to Rexford, decision makers told Dad that they should head back to Dallas; the storm was too strong. Dad decided to make another run at Rexford. So the next morning they followed behind a truck that led them into town.

As he recalls, the meeting with church leaders was brief and an invitation was extended. Apparently, the Rexford group was concerned that a “city boy”from Dallas might not be able to handle life on the plains. So, if the snow storm was a test--Dad passed.

I never lived in Rexford but grew up hearing lots of stories about it. This was a new one for me.

ram