Sunday, October 22, 2006
Yesterday was Eggnog Day!
I found it by surprise when, in the morning, I headed out to look for some acceptably sweet tomatoes, as my mother has not forgotten her disappointment over the the cardboard flavor and consistency of the tomato we used a few days ago in a BLT dinner and has been suggesting a more suitable repeat since then. The weekend farmer's market, here, had nothing. The closest natural foods market was featuring tomatoes that were hard and lacked fragrance. Although I expected no success at our usual grocery, I had to replenish my supply of half and half, anyway, so stopped there on my way home. I picked up a container of what I knew would be reliably sweet (because of the brand) grape tomatoes, wandered over to the dairy section and there they were, shelves of my thick, eggy, generic eggnog. My favorite seasons have begun. Too bad I'm not also in my favorite state, but there are easily found pleasures for me where we are and if the extended weather casts are correct in predicting a cool, precipitous El Niño winter, soon we'll be living in a Christmas Card, again, of which neither of us ever tires.
Although Mom's been alternately revved and relaxed over the last week or so, we've been having good days, full of small, delightful surprises. I've gotten her formally walkering a couple of times. The weather is bright, so Mom has been able to sun bathe in our living room to her heart's content. The wind has settled. We've been receiving, through our mail video service, a raft of videos that have perked Mom's interest in the last couple of weeks, to the point where, after breakfast, it is habitual for her to ask, "So, what are we going to watch, today?" I've always had a fair facility at picking videos for her, but I've become better at it, and, as well, her ability to be captured by a wider range of subject matter has flexed itself since April. I've become less inhibited about ordering videos that I formerly thought would be of interest only to me because, well, now, I just never know. Today I'm going to try her on Annie Hall. Lately I've had a yen to watch this movie again. It's been years since I've seen it. I read the description to Mom off the sleeve, yesterday, she said, "Let's give it a try. Sounds fun."
The most successful videos, so far, though, have been a series I decided to try on a hunch, the Sister Wendy series about the history of painting. They enrapture my mother. The color and quick flow of the programs are perfect for her attention span. The background information on the artists and the ages elicit frequent video pauses for conversation between Mom and me. The design and color of the filming rivet her. Last night she expressed disappointment that the works weren't on screen long enough to really look at. The videos include the ability to move, during the program, to a section where each work can be contemplated for as long as the viewer likes before returning to the program. I hadn't thought to trigger this because it didn't occur to me that Mom would be interested. Turns out, this is one of her favorite aspects of the series. I believe, too, that she has fallen in love with Sister Wendy, in equal parts, I think, because of Sister Wendy's unprepossessing charisma, her age and her "just between you and me" delivery. We watched the entire series beginning with The Golden Ages up through Andy Warhol last night, while doing dinner and washing my mother's hair. At the end of the last segment, when I pushed the open/close button on the DVD, my mother said, "Is that all?!?"
"We've seen all the segments, Mom, but, if you want, we can start them over."
"Oh, yes," she gushed. "You know, I like that woman."
Not insignificantly, the show's theme casts a spell on my mother; thus, if I have a chore to do outside of the living room here or there during the playing of the series, I can rest the video on the menu between segments, attend to the necessities and return to find my mother gently, beatifically conducting the theme with her right hand. As well, the theme is attractive and evocative enough so that multiple repetitions don't drive me out of my mind, as do the themes for, for instance, Murder, She Wrote and M*A*S*H, which are also repeated almost daily in our household.
I've other things to report but, you know...
...later.
Although Mom's been alternately revved and relaxed over the last week or so, we've been having good days, full of small, delightful surprises. I've gotten her formally walkering a couple of times. The weather is bright, so Mom has been able to sun bathe in our living room to her heart's content. The wind has settled. We've been receiving, through our mail video service, a raft of videos that have perked Mom's interest in the last couple of weeks, to the point where, after breakfast, it is habitual for her to ask, "So, what are we going to watch, today?" I've always had a fair facility at picking videos for her, but I've become better at it, and, as well, her ability to be captured by a wider range of subject matter has flexed itself since April. I've become less inhibited about ordering videos that I formerly thought would be of interest only to me because, well, now, I just never know. Today I'm going to try her on Annie Hall. Lately I've had a yen to watch this movie again. It's been years since I've seen it. I read the description to Mom off the sleeve, yesterday, she said, "Let's give it a try. Sounds fun."
The most successful videos, so far, though, have been a series I decided to try on a hunch, the Sister Wendy series about the history of painting. They enrapture my mother. The color and quick flow of the programs are perfect for her attention span. The background information on the artists and the ages elicit frequent video pauses for conversation between Mom and me. The design and color of the filming rivet her. Last night she expressed disappointment that the works weren't on screen long enough to really look at. The videos include the ability to move, during the program, to a section where each work can be contemplated for as long as the viewer likes before returning to the program. I hadn't thought to trigger this because it didn't occur to me that Mom would be interested. Turns out, this is one of her favorite aspects of the series. I believe, too, that she has fallen in love with Sister Wendy, in equal parts, I think, because of Sister Wendy's unprepossessing charisma, her age and her "just between you and me" delivery. We watched the entire series beginning with The Golden Ages up through Andy Warhol last night, while doing dinner and washing my mother's hair. At the end of the last segment, when I pushed the open/close button on the DVD, my mother said, "Is that all?!?"
"We've seen all the segments, Mom, but, if you want, we can start them over."
"Oh, yes," she gushed. "You know, I like that woman."
Not insignificantly, the show's theme casts a spell on my mother; thus, if I have a chore to do outside of the living room here or there during the playing of the series, I can rest the video on the menu between segments, attend to the necessities and return to find my mother gently, beatifically conducting the theme with her right hand. As well, the theme is attractive and evocative enough so that multiple repetitions don't drive me out of my mind, as do the themes for, for instance, Murder, She Wrote and M*A*S*H, which are also repeated almost daily in our household.
I've other things to report but, you know...
...later.
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Originally posted by Patty McNally Doherty: Sun Oct 22, 09:11:00 PM 2006
There are always the most intersting similarities that seen to run through the posts of caregivers/companions of our old loved ones. What caught my eye the other day was your mention of eggnog replacing half-and-half in your coffee, one of my favorite holiday signals. Today, it was the mention of daily M.A.S.H. viewings, another daily activity in my mother's home. She is also a huge fan of Norther Exposure. While she lived with my father's Alzheimer's, she developed coping skills that could only have been enhanced by her daily viewing of tough situations - M.A.S.H. for instance - where humor ruled the day. Boy did we have to practice humor. It became our lifeline. We still laugh about so many of the really funny, silly, ridiculous things we experienced. Sharing my father's care with my mom and sisters has bound us to each other in such a beautiful knot. We have seen each other bear up through the hardest times, and to know that each was there when needed is incredible - as I read more and more stories of families that blow apart rather than band together. Family dynamics are so varied and different.
Your mother sounds like such a wonderful, interesting, funny woman. I love her appreciation of the world around her, and your loving acceptance and curiosity of a life that may be a far cry from what you might have envisioned. I don't know, but it has never failed to amaze me how different my life became when I cared for my father. In a blink, those eleven years were gone. Your daily journal calls for much reminiscing on my part. Thank you for touching the deep, true parts of aging. What a different world we're given the opportunity to see as we walk beside them.
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There are always the most intersting similarities that seen to run through the posts of caregivers/companions of our old loved ones. What caught my eye the other day was your mention of eggnog replacing half-and-half in your coffee, one of my favorite holiday signals. Today, it was the mention of daily M.A.S.H. viewings, another daily activity in my mother's home. She is also a huge fan of Norther Exposure. While she lived with my father's Alzheimer's, she developed coping skills that could only have been enhanced by her daily viewing of tough situations - M.A.S.H. for instance - where humor ruled the day. Boy did we have to practice humor. It became our lifeline. We still laugh about so many of the really funny, silly, ridiculous things we experienced. Sharing my father's care with my mom and sisters has bound us to each other in such a beautiful knot. We have seen each other bear up through the hardest times, and to know that each was there when needed is incredible - as I read more and more stories of families that blow apart rather than band together. Family dynamics are so varied and different.
Your mother sounds like such a wonderful, interesting, funny woman. I love her appreciation of the world around her, and your loving acceptance and curiosity of a life that may be a far cry from what you might have envisioned. I don't know, but it has never failed to amaze me how different my life became when I cared for my father. In a blink, those eleven years were gone. Your daily journal calls for much reminiscing on my part. Thank you for touching the deep, true parts of aging. What a different world we're given the opportunity to see as we walk beside them.
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