Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.


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Seize the moment

Long time apartment neighbors of Aunt Vi, Clarence and his wife were both 100 years old when I first met them last year.  Sadly, she  tripped over a curb while out doing errands several months ago and died after hip surgery.  Clarence, lost because they’d been married for more than 70 years, muddled along without her, but it became clear that he needed the additional help that living in assisted living would provide.

He moved into a lovely place three weeks ago, and Aunt V and I visited with him last week.  He looked great, and though he couldn’t hear worth a darn, even with the hearing aids in both ears, he enjoyed the company.  What man wouldn’t?  There he was with Aunt Vi, me, another woman from the apartment building and his niece.  One grinning guy surrounded by ladies.

We sat in the sunroom, with spring poking it’s shining face in the windows.  The ladies talked among themselves, then would poke Clarence and say “Tell Dawn that story about…” and after much yelling back and forth until he was sure which story they wanted, off he’d go.  His stories were long and funny, and I’m sure the others had heard them many times, but I hadn’t and I was charmed by this slight, stooped man with the twinkling eyes, sweet grin and big hands.

I asked him what he did when he was working.  He straightened up in his chair, suddenly the proud, strong man he must have been in younger days.  “I ran a gas station,” he said.  He told me where but I couldn’t place it, so I just smiled and nodded.  He talked about being a mechanic all his days, right up until he retired, which he still felt was just yesterday.

We had a really nice visit and as Aunt Vi kissed him goodbye she told him we’d be back for another.  We left him sitting in the sunny room, smiling and waving.  We were smiling too.

That’s the way I’m going to remember Clarence.  He died yesterday and I am as shocked as I would be if he were eighteen.    I just wasn’t ready, I’d had no warning.  And heck, I’m not even a relative and probably talked to him a total of 3 or 4 over the past year.  But still.

Clarence was a very cool man.  I’m sorry I didn’t get to know him better.  But I’m really glad we went to visit him last week and I got to hear his stories, laugh with him, shake his hand.

True loves just can’t be separated.  Clarence and his wife are together again.  And tonight we’ll be with Aunt Vi who clearly needs a hug.


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A walk in the Arb

 

Last night I was in Ann Arbor watching the University of Michigan’s Brigadoon with my Aunt.  This morning, before driving back to home I took myself for a walk in the arboretum, a park on the banks of the Huron River.

As I got out of the car I was met by these two.  They were welcoming me to the park.

I was looking for spring, and there were a few signs.

I was out early, and the park was full of animals and birds, but no other people.  I saw a little red squirrel chasing a bigger brown squirrel, and above them was a red tailed hawk just squawking away.  Then I heard footsteps behind me; a little herd of deer was passing me on the hill, coming up from the river.  They looked at me, I looked at them, and I think we all smiled, it was such a beautiful morning even though the sky was heavy with clouds and the threat of rain.

I moved along, looking for more signs of spring.  If you looked closely you could see quite a bit of green.

And I was thinking of Diana when I took this photo; it reminded me of snakes.

Eventually I got back to the memorial to my parents that sits near the canoe landing.

Even though it’s been there a few years now it still makes my heart beat faster when I first see it.  I wish they were walking in the Arb with me, but I guess in a sense they are.

This is the canoe landing near their stone.  Pretty, ey?

Nearby was a downed ash tree, with the pretty but fatal marks of the ash borer that killed it.

And another friendly goose.  My Mom always liked the Canadian geese that visited her dock down in Alabama.

Then I looked just down the river and saw this graffiti on the train trestle.

It seemed fitting.  So I did.


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How Katie got her name

Riley, over at his blog has a contest going where we’re to tell the story about how our dogs got their names and we’re almost late with our entry!  Katie says I should get in gear and tell her story…tell how she became our Katie.

It’s not that exciting a story…but it does go to show you how the best laid plans of …well…dog owners…sometimes just go by the wayside.

When our sheltie-girl Bonnie died at age 15 we were heartbroken and we decided to take a break from owning a dog to let our hearts heal.  We lasted 2 months.    I’d been in touch with a small breeder but had told her we weren’t ready for a new puppy yet.  Then she emailed me and said she had a youngster she’d been keeping to see how she grew, intending to use her for a show dog, but that she had to find a home for her now.   The little girl was four months old.  And we were ready.

The day before we were going to go meet the newbie I made a list of all the possible names.  You know, names like Maddie and Maggie, Gracie and Gidget, Phoebe and Penny.  Girlie names.  I had maybe twenty choices and I left the list out on the counter for my husband when I left for the day.  I knew the breeder had named her Izzy and I liked that name too.

When I got home from work my husband said he wanted to name her Kate, after a dog he had when he was growing up.  Kate sounded like a nice Scottish name, appropriate for a Shetland Sheepdog, so I agreed.

When we went to “meet” her (as if there was any doubt we’d be bringing her home!) she hid behind a big chair and wouldn’t come to us.  The breeder was also a day care and the place was full of toddlers whose hands and highchair trays were full of hot dogs that Katie was more interested in than us.  Plus we’re pretty sure she wasn’t used to being around people very much, that she lived outside in the kennels.  Knowing her as I do now, the whole “meet the folks” thing was probably pretty traumatic.

The breeder watched with some worry on her face as we tried to coax Izzy to us without much luck.  I sat in the big chair and we waited quietly for her to come to us.  The breeder went into another room to get paperwork and I let my hand dangle down.  Izzy came to sniff and she let me pick her up!

When the breeder came back we were cuddling and all was right with the world.  The breeder was relieved.  We were in love.  Katie slept, upside down, in a crate in the back all the way home.  And she never cried once.

In retrospect Izzy might have been the perfect name, as it rhymes with dizzy, which she certainly is.  But now she’s our strong Katie-girl, all tough bravado and bark, and I can picture her on a cold, hard Shetland Island taking charge of the thunder and lightening just like she does here at home.  Except here she gets her own pillow (and often ours too) to retreat to when things get a bit overwhelming.

So she’s our Katie.  Named after a childhood pet, but very much her own personality.


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If it's Monday it must be obedience

So we went to week 8 of novice obedience school tonight.  Katie is much more comfortable in class now, as long as those other dogs and all those other people don’t get too close.  She’ll even stand for exam and let strangers touch her as long as I’m at the other end of the leash.

She was perfect on her sits and downs tonight.  We had a substitute teacher who did lots of distracting things.

 

Like putting a piece of cheese on the floor in front of each dog.  I  knew we were safe there as Katie won’t take treats from anyone but me.  Still, I was proud of her for not moving or even looking at it.  She was staring at me because “The lady was sort of close Mom!”

And on the long downs the lady walked back and forth in front of the dogs squeaking toys and throwing them around.  She walked behind dogs too, which I knew would totally freak Katie out…but the good news is that Katie had scooted back so far there wasn’t any room for the lady to walk behind her…so she sat still as a mouse while the lady marched back and forth in front of her.  Katie never took her eyes off of me.  I guess she knows she’s safe as long as she can see me.  That might be a problem if we ever progress past novice and I have to leave the room during the sits and downs.  But for now as long as we concentrate on each other we’re cool.

I think.

 


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The 5K

This afternoon I participated in a 5K.  I was physically alone, but spiritually with several other people across blog-land.  I first read about a 5K happening at noon on Sunday April 10 over at Gerry’s Torch Lake Views.  I think Robin participated in the 5K too.  A bit later Gerry decided to name her portion of the walk the Don Gould Memorial 5K.  I never met Don, but he seems like he was a great guy.  So on my 5K walk, miles away from the shores of Lake Michigan where Gerry walked, I thought about him, and lots of other great people I’ve known.

Soon enough though I got caught up in my surroundings.  We don’t have a lot of spring color here yet.  In fact things are pretty much the color of mud.

But it was warmer than we’ve had since last summer, and mud isn’t snow.  There were lots of sounds coming from the swamps.  Really loud sounds of peepers and blackbirds.  Funny how you can tell there are a lot of peepers only a few feet from you but you can’t see them!

I had a lovely walk through farmland and woods.

And I found a little bit of color near the end of someone’s driveway.

I’ve long given up on growing crocus in my yard.  Between chipmunks, squirrels and deer they never survive.  But it was nice to see some on my walk.

I think I went a little longer than 5K, along what used to be my favorite route when I was a runner.  I remembered where the mile markers were, but I wasn’t wearing a watch so I don’t know if I was fast or slow.  I suspect slow, but it really doesn’t matter.

What matters is that I was out on a walk, thinking about people and things and enjoying being out in the fresh air…and even out in the mud.  I think this is as good a time as any to start doing the 30 minutes of exercise every day for 30 days.  I think it’s on my 101 things to do.  So here I go…30 days…30 minutes a day.  Starting now.

Wish me luck!  And thanks Gerry, for motivating me to get out there and do more than my usual mile. I hope you had a wonderful 5K as well.

Even if you DID get rained on.

 

 

 


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How do you see the future when you're 95?

A couple of weeks ago I spent a day with husband’s 95 year old aunt.  She needed to go grocery shopping, she needed to find a pair of slacks to replace some she’s had since the 50’s and mostly she needed to get out in the fresh air after weeks of being cooped up in her apartment through a most difficult winter.

Though she’s in amazing shape for someone her age I can see that she gets worn out faster than she did just a year ago.  This time she allowed me to go back over to the other side of the large grocery store to pick up something we had forgotten.  Last summer we would have walked over there together.  She actually waited in the car while I ran into another store to pick up birdseed for her parakeet.  She never would have done that last summer.  And she leaned heavily on the cart at a clothing store, then sat in the dressing room while I went back and forth with items for her to try on.

Back in her apartment she was talking about people in her building that have moved into assisted living facilities.  There were three from her floor recently.  The reality of  aging is beginning to effect her, both physically and mentally.

Generally she’s a pretty upbeat person, but more and more when I call she’s having a “bad day” and doesn’t want to do anything, or even have a visitor.  I don’t recall her ever turning down an invite before.

All of this has me thinking about what it must be like to be 95.  To realize that there aren’t going to be years and years ahead of you.  To realize that you can’t do much of anything that you used to love to do….that you’re lonely but don’t really want to socialize.  That you’re bored but can’t see enough to do much of anything, even to really see the TV.

How does a person in this situation stay motivated to actively engage in life?  How can I introduce more variety to her life, keep her active in a safe way, challenge her mind?

Last week she asked me if the assisted living places let you bring your own furniture.  I realize I need to research these places so that when the time comes, and it may be sooner rather than later, I can help make the transition as easy as it can be.

Meanwhile I’m already missing my partner in adventure.  We used to just head out and see where we ended up.  Not so much now.  A combination of me working a lot, her having bad days, and nasty weather has really cut into our adventure time. But I’m hoping we have a couple more adventures in our future.

Before she has to make that big move.