A Mind Is A Terrible Thing To Waste

agy_rajz_radir-400x200There was an old advertisement that asserted, “A mind is a terrible thing to waste.” I’ve often thought of those words as I have seen more and more individuals afflicted with Alzheimer’s disease or dementia. Watching someone who once bore a quick wit slowly but surely become less and less aware is one of the saddest and most difficult aspects of growing older. It is especially hard on the caretakers of those individuals.

I used to possess a photographic memory. I was literally able to recall the exact page number and positioning of a fact from a textbook. I once answered a question on a history test while visualizing the caption under a photograph that contained the information. Back then I took my ability for granted, assuming that I would always be able to pull information from my brain with little or no effort. I have unfortunately learned as I age that I am less and less able to quickly find the information that I need from the recesses of my gray matter.

I’ve read that exercising the brain is as important as keeping the body healthy. Experts claim that performing mental activities regularly helps to keep forgetfulness at bay. That is partly the reason why I write daily and tutor young people in mathematics. Such activities force me to push my mind as much as working out on the elliptical activates the muscles in my legs. Nonetheless I all too often find myself groping for a familiar word or having to review a geometric definition for the umpteenth time. Just as my gait has slowed, so too has my mental acuity.

I don’t generally worry that I will somehow become less able to function with my mind because my genetics seem to be less inclined toward senility and more toward broken bones or gastrointestinal diseases. My grandfather was still reading and discussing lengthy history books at the age of one hundred eight and my mother was sharp and witty until the moment that she drew her last breath. I haven’t seen evidence of diminished brain capacity even among my aunts and uncles. Still I worry simply because I have seen so much of it in the families of my neighbors and friends.

There is a man who lives near me who is my age. He recently began to frighten me a bit because his behavior became erratic and he was making inappropriate comments. I found myself avoiding conversations with him because I truly wasn’t sure that I was safe around him. Soon enough another neighbor revealed that the unfortunate soul was suffering from early onset Alzheimer’s disease. His wife had asked that we not drive him to the store for cigarettes and wine as we had unwittingly been doing.

Not long after hearing the reasons why the neighbor was acting so strangely his wife asked my husband to drive her to the scene of a car accident in which he had been involved. She tearfully recounted how he had stolen her car keys and snuck out of the house in an attempt to run away. He only got a few blocks down the road before he had wrecked the car. He could not remember how to call home but luckily his wallet contained the necessary information to alert his frantic family. As my husband drove her she literally begged for advice as to how to deal with the situation. She has been attempting to work which requires leaving him home alone. She was beginning to realize that he probably was no longer able to fend for himself in her absence.

The plight of those who have brain disorders along with the members of their families are heartbreaking. I have a dear friend who cannot leave her husband without finding a kind soul who will watch him in her absence. Her life has become far more insulated that it should be at her young age. One of my aunt’s lives in a retirement community with a husband in his nineties who is mostly unaware of his surroundings. She and her sister care for him without complaint but I know that they are the kind of women who love getting out and about, a freedom that they rarely enjoy these days.

A woman that I have known for years now lives in Georgia in a small apartment caring for her husband whose mental and physical health has been severely stressed by multiple strokes. Her days are repetitive and she is far away from friends and family. She is very much alone in her labors save for the visiting nurses who come a few times each week to give her an hour or so to herself. I talk with her via Facetime as often as I can but she really needs so much more support and it is not very abundant.

Still another friend visits her ninety something mother at a nursing home multiple times every single day just to be certain that her mom is getting the care that she needs. My longtime friend is a true angel who rarely complains that she must schedule her days to include those regular visitations. When she does have to leave town she has to find people who are willing to perform her duties. Sometimes that means hiring strangers and hoping that they will fulfill the responsibilities properly. In truth her trips are tainted with worry because few people invest the level of loving care into the duties as she does.

None of us ever really know when we or a loved one might begin to slowly lose mental capabilities. There are foods that we might eat and physical and mental exercises that will help, but in many cases the onset is simply inevitable. As more and more baby boomers age the epidemic only grows, impacting so many lives. Paying for care is increasingly expensive and usually results in families spending the victims into poverty. Some care facilities will accept Medicare once the individual is literally dead broke, but others are reluctant to deal with the multitude of paperwork involved. Many of those with brain disorders therefore stay at home, taxing the resources and patience of family members.

We hear a great deal about the medical needs of young people which is as it should be, but the stories of the elderly often remain hidden and forgotten secrets. We don’t often think of the individuals like my neighbor who spend their days in a kind of confused state. He was once a rather entertaining fellow who enjoyed attending parties and regaling us with funny stories. Now he barely makes sense as he reaches into the recesses of his mind for words and ideas. He is incredibly healthy aside for his Alzheimer’s. He might otherwise have been out enjoying his retirement with hobbies and trips. Now he is confined to a life so unlike his personality and even our attempts to visit with him seem to fall on a kind of blankness in his mind. It is so difficult to communicate with him on any meaningful level.

As more and more people enter the years when such diseases begin to show their symptoms we need to fund the kind of research that will result in improved memory or even a cure. It is not just the afflicted who suffer but their families and friends as well. Perhaps it is time that we have a month dedicated to learning more about such debilitating diseases. Maybe our sports teams need to wear special uniforms to remind us of those who are suffering. Yes, the mind is indeed a terrible thing to waste and yet somehow we have so many whose essence is being slowly erased and we do so little to talk about what we might do to help.

A Really Bad Day

7356295658_c810209e1d_bWhen my mother and I attempted to pay for our purchases the clerk at the register made it patently clear that she was irritated, even including an obvious eye roll as my mom fiddled inside her purse searching for the money that she was certain she had placed there before leaving the house. As the saleslady’s anger grew ever more palatable I suggested that we put the items on my credit card and worry about repayment later. Mama smiled at my ingeniousness and then noted that if we were going to do things that way she wanted to get another blouse that she had admired but had not brought enough cash to buy. Without even noticing how beet red the now furious cashier had become she dashed away and left me standing alone at the counter.

There were no other people waiting in line, and for a brief moment I considered lighting into the offensive woman who seemed intent on letting us know exactly how she was feeling without regard for the old saw that the customer is always right. Instead I casually began chatting her up. I thanked her for being so patient with my mother as though I had not noticed her obvious irritation. I explained that my niece was getting married in a few days and my mother was excited about walking down the aisle as her grandmother. I continued by noting that Mama had purchased an elegant suit several weeks earlier but it no longer fit because she had lost a great deal of weight. We had found out after a visit to the doctor that she had lung cancer that was very serious. Her clothes hung on her because the disease was ravaging her body. Without even taking a breath I mentioned that my mom also suffered from bipolar disorder and sometimes became quite confused. I ended my tale by once again commending the worker for being kind and noting that Mama loved her little outings to the store as well as being able to talk with other people.

By this time the woman’s eyes were filled with tears. She took my hands and quietly spoke of how she truly understood. She revealed that her own mother had died of cancer and she told me how much she missed those special times when the two of them had done things together. Her demeanor was now soft and loving and we shared a quick moment of kinship just before my mother came back with her blouse and a big smile. The saleslady was effusive in her new found kindness for Mama. She gave her coupons to bring down the final cost of her items. She wrapped the purchases in tissue paper and placed them in a special shopping bag. She ended the transaction by wishing my mother Godspeed.

As we walked to the car Mama commented on how sweet the clerk had been. She appeared not to have even noticed the dramatic change in her behavior. She collared a store manager who was standing near the exit and heaped effusive praise on the lady. The manager beamed with pride and promised my mom that he would surely make note of his employee’s exceptional customer service in her file.

We encounter so many people in our daily dealings. Not all of them are pleasant and when we find the surly ones it is usually tempting to read them the riot act. We make lots of assumptions about the individuals that we meet without ever really knowing them or allowing them to know us. It is often easier to respond to rudeness in kind rather than to attempt to diffuse the situation. There are indeed some individuals who are simply as mean as snakes and will never change, but in most cases displays of anger or irritation are not personal. Instead they are an indication of something brewing in the person’s life that is affecting the way they act. Time and again in both my private and professional dealings I have found myself in emotionally difficult situations in which I have somehow faced hostility for no apparent reason. When I take a deep breath and delve a bit deeper I almost always learn that the person screaming at me is shouldering incredible levels of stress and my encounter is only the last straw in a long series of difficulties. By putting myself in their shoes for a moment I have almost always been able to bring the tension down to a reasonable level.

As both a teacher and an administrator I more than once found myself listening to a parent who was ready to choke me. I generally allowed him/her to vent for a brief time and then countered the ugly comments by saying that I could tell by the powerful words how passionately the individual cared about the welfare of the child. I spoke to them as a parent who had now again found myself defending one of my girls. I noted that I was happy to know that we all cared very deeply for the student under discussion because that concern would translate itself into developing a useful plan for making the necessary changes for success. By ignoring the meanness and concentrating on our commonalities as people I was usually able to bring control to the situation and provide the parent with a satisfactory conclusion. I was not faking my understanding. I truly know that there are times when each of us comes undone by life’s events. At those moments we can only pray that the people with whom we interact will show us the concern that we need.

Whenever my mother was in a state of full blown mania she could be meaner than a junk yard dog. Her personality at such times was nothing like the almost angelic person that she really was. Her brain was out of balance, chemically causing her to behave in ways that even she did not like. Thank God she was generally surrounded by people who knew and loved her who ignored the rantings and ravings that spewed from her mouth. They would quietly call me to report that she wasn’t doing well and once I got her back on track with her medications she would return to the person who was adored by all of us who were lucky enough to bask in her unconditionally loving nature.

Of late we have seen a number of situations that went ridiculously out of control. People have been assaulted simply for delivering bad news. We’ve seen riots at airports and road rage that leads to murder. I would strongly suggest to everyone that we do our best to stay calm even in the most concerning circumstances. Someone has to maintain a cool head when times get tough or things will be said or done that are regretful. We should always attempt to understand the other person’s point of view before going off into a tirade of our own. Sometimes it is even best to just quietly step away when we realize that nothing that we do or say will quell the anger. Engaging in a war of words is never a solution. Demonstrating an attempt at making peace on the other hand will sometimes lead to a satisfactory resolution. Stay calm. Try to understand. Don’t take so many things personally. It may not be you who is having the really bad day.

The Secret

devil-in-the-white-mansion-556-1415558594.jpgI’ve been told that I should have been a psychologist or maybe a detective or perhaps a lawyer. I am a fan of murder mysteries and true crime. My interest in such things have not so much to do with enjoying the macabre as having a profound curiosity about human nature. People are fascinating to me and I often find myself wondering what leads someone to perform dark deeds. I have friends who are fellow travelers in my hobby of studying the facts in a murder trial or attempting to solve a crime. Among them is my godson who is only a fifth grader. He and his mom listen to podcasts on his way to school and among his favorites is Martinis and Murder. When I visited with him last week he and his mother recommended several movies and television series that I should watch. Among them was Foxcatcher, an Academy Award nominated picture based on the true story of John DuPont, a man from one the wealthiest families in the United States. It was a great film with a fascinating tale and incredible acting particularly from Steve Carell.

I mention this movie not so much to review it or to be a spoiler but to comment on the fact that even those who seemingly have everything are sometimes actually bereft. John DuPont was believed to have well over two hundred million dollars back in the nineteen eighties, an amount that is unimaginable to most of us. He lived on a vast estate, traveled in his own private plane and was virtually able to enjoy his wildest dreams and yet he suffered from a personality disorder that eventually devolved into mental illness. He had been alone and friendless for most of his life and seemed to be a disappointment to his mother. He struggled to find a place for himself in spite of philanthropic efforts designed to bring himself attention. He seemed to be an individual who was unable to connect with others and form healthy and loving relationships. In the end his life was a tragedy.

How often do any of us hear that money can’t buy happiness? Our next thought is that we would surely like to try our hand at proving that having a large bank account may in fact be the golden ticket to satisfaction. I know I’ve daydreamed about such things before. I imagine myself paying for college educations for my grandchildren and those of friends. I insist that I won’t change my lifestyle that much, but will just make a few renovations to my home and take some exotic trips. I plan to give large donations to the University of Houston and don’t exactly blush at the idea of having a building named after me even though I claim that I want my largesse to be anonymous. I protest that I want no attention drawn to my good deeds, and I only desire to possess a fortune so that the people that I know and love will not have to endure the stress of worrying about making a living and such. Of course, once I reflect on such ideas I realize that it is impossible to receive such a large windfall without having it change everything about my life, and I realize that I would never be ready for the attention that would surely come my way.

I suspect that there is something gloriously wonderful about the anonymity of being a regular working stiff that most of the folks who live in River Oaks or other such places never have. They have to constantly worry about people’s motives in befriending them. They are watched so closely that a bad hair day becomes a headline. They are criticized continuously for the things that they do or don’t do. They sometimes have to find ways to isolate themselves just to get away from prying eyes whereas nobody cares how I look when I make a quick run to Walmart or even that I choose to shop there.

I remember how shocked the world was when Jacqueline Kennedy remarried after her beloved husband John was assassinated. She made a curious choice in the person of Aristotle Onassis who was much older than she was and not known for his good looks. He whisked her and her children away to an island, however, which was no doubt precisely what she wanted for her family. He had the means to allow her to live for a time without the pressures that come from being a wealthy and famous celebrity. Hre children were able to grow outside of the limelight. It was a brilliant choice on her part and I suppose that she loved him for giving her this great gift.

After all is said and done we are all just human. It is certainly important to have enough income to have a home stocked with food and the basic necessities. It helps to be able to provide for our children’s educations and everyone enjoys the ability to afford a little fun now and again. Essentially none of us need millions or billions of dollars. What we do require is love and comfort. Abuse and heartache have no economic bounds. We tend to think that having more money will allow us to solve any problems that arise but time and again we are reminded that such is not the case. The darker side of our natures has been known to assert itself all across the financial spectrum. Somehow we find ourselves being more shocked when there is violence in a family of means than when it occurs on the so called other side of the tracks.

Some of the happiest people that I have ever known have had very little. Their wealth lay not in bank accounts, real estate holdings, or possessions but in their relationships. They are the souls who inspire us with their big hearts. What they have to give is compassion. I continually learn of the angels among us who perform good deeds that are astounding. They take the last of their paychecks to quietly purchase a wheelchair for the victim of an accident or to buy groceries for a family in need. They rarely mention their kindnesses. They do not look for gratitude. They teach their children the value of people rather than things. They enjoy the simple pleasures of long conversations with friends or walks on cool spring days. It doesn’t take much at all to make them smile. They love good jokes and laugh from the bottom of their bellies. They may have to pinch pennies to pay for an unexpected repair, but they choose not to worry because somehow they always find a way to get things done.

Our human experience brings us many emotions. We all have moments of suffering. Money if used in the proper way will most certainly eradicate some of our troubles and woes but it is never the panacea. How we feel almost always boils down to how we approach the realities that test us. If we believe that things are the secret to a wonderful life we will probably find disappointment again and again. It is in truly honoring every person that we encounter without ulterior motives or unrealistic expectations that we find the happiness that we seek, and that rarely costs a thing.

The Angels We Call Mother

Baby-touching-mothers-hand.jpgWe each begin our lives inside our mothers’ wombs. We hear their heartbeats and share the nutrients they consume. We give them heartburn and send them scurrying to the ladies room so often that those jaunts become a form of exercise. Sometimes their hormones change so quickly and dramatically that they wake up feeling lightheaded and nauseous. Their bodies change with each passing week. They think that they look like beached whales, but everyone sees them as the beautiful women that they are. Their faces glow with the loveliness of anticipation. They laugh and stroke their bellies each time we kick or stretch our legs. We love them already because they keep us safe in the quiet little world inside their wombs. When it is time to leave our comfortable havens they must endure pain, but they don’t really mind. They are anxious to see us and to begin our lifelong relationships in earnest.

We depend on our mothers. They feed us and keep us clean and dry. They watch over us with love and deep affection. They are our first teachers and entertainers. They laugh at our antics and smile when they see our faces. They spend sleepless nights as we attempt to adjust to our new environment. We seem to be constantly hungry and in need of comfort, and they are ready to provide us with whatever we require. They do not complain. They are more than happy to spend so much of their time just loving us. They are our biggest fans. They enjoy our every move and think that we are remarkable simply for existing. They photograph us and record our milestones. They are our biographers and best friends.

Eventually we mature enough to walk away from our mothers. We go to school and interact with friends our age. We want to be independent, on our own. We think that we don’t need our mothers anymore. We assert ourselves and insist that we want to be left to fend for ourselves. Our mothers’ step back just a bit. They allow us to explore, but they are never really far away. They watch from a distance, ready to save us if we get into a precarious position. They still come into our rooms to check on us in the still of night. They provide us with the guidance that we need in spite of our objections. They love us more and more with each passing moment.

The day comes when we leave our mothers’ homes for good. We launch our careers and maybe even find someone to love in a romantic way. Perhaps we will have our own children and begin to comprehend better than ever just how much our mothers did for us. We see them in a different light as we realize the sacrifices that they made just so we might be comfortable and happy. We now share some of the feelings that they had. We understand their worry, their pride and their unrelenting love.

As we grow older, so do our mothers, but we remain their beloved children. Even as their strength and energy fails they fret over us. They need to know that we are doing fine. Their final thoughts are about us, and they pray that they have taught us well enough that we will carry on without them. Mothers give us the gift of themselves and provide us with both roots and wings.

One day a year is never enough to show our gratitude for our mothers. Somehow our efforts to honor them are never quite equal to the thousands of wonderfully selfless moments that they have given us, but we try nonetheless to show them how we feel if we are lucky enough to still have them here on earth.

I think of my mother often and miss her so. She had a smile and a laugh that lit up a room. She devoted most of her adult life to me and my brothers, serving as both mother and father after our dad died. Virtually every decision that she made was based on consideration of our welfare. She did a remarkable job of parenting and I doubt that we ever thanked her enough. I hope she knew that we thought that she had hung the moon.

I look at old black and white photos of my mother and I am stunned by how young she was when she became pregnant with me. In every picture she is a beautiful twenty year old beaming from ear to ear expressing her joy for all the world to see. Once I was born she carefully kept a record of my first teeth, my beginning steps, my report cards, my visits to the doctor for checkups. She wrote anecdotes about my personality and talents. Her pride jumps out from the pages of the lovely baby books that she so carefully created and preserved. That careful attention to me and later to my brothers would never wane. When she was taking her last breaths she made certain that we knew of her love. She asked my husband to watch over us in her absence, a job that he has taken quite seriously. She was as wonderful a mom as ever there was and she lives on in us and in our children and grandchildren. I see glimpses of her in each of them.

Perhaps there is no more important role that a woman performs than caring for a child and guiding him/her to becoming an adult. Our mothers form the bedrock of civilization. They do their jobs with little or no fanfare, not because they must, but because it is a pleasure for them. They love us from those very first moments when they learn that we are on the way and all the way into eternity. There truly are angels and they are the ones that we call, “Mother.”

Stay Calm and Get Cool

178738264-800x500My maiden name was “Little” and I do my best not to sound as though I am related to the chicken of storybook fame who has the same moniker. I’m also quite aware that all of my first world problems are minuscule compared to the troubles that people face in most parts of the world. Still there are times when life becomes a bit too hectic for my taste. Of late events are certainly trying my patience and tempting me to complain a bit about falling pieces of sky. I’m determined not to go there, but if I am certainly feeling a bit more stressed than is healthy.

I’ve managed of late to work my way through worry about one of my daughters who received a troubling diagnosis in her most recent annual physical. After multiple tests the original problem was downgraded to one that must be watched but doesn’t carry the dire predictions that her doctor originally thought were certain. I heaved a welcome sigh of relief upon getting such encouraging news and chided myself for surrendering to so many sleepless nights while the process was playing out. A physician for whom I worked many years ago once cautioned me not to brood over medical conditions until the final word has been set in stone. He noted that far too many people let their anxieties run wild, all for no reason. I have tried to follow his instructions but it isn’t always easy, especially when a loved one is involved. I’m thankful that the worst of the concern is now past.

Within days of hearing of my daughter’s difficulties my oven caught on fire. Had I not been in the room and also had a fire extinguisher at hand I suspect that my kitchen might have burned down and perhaps even my entire house. I had to feel grateful that I was able to minimize the damage, but purchasing a new oven was not exactly on my priority list. I tried to laugh at the accident, find a replacement and move on from the irritation. I must admit that I love the sleek new look of the one that I found and it bakes at a very even temperature. I’m sure that I will enjoy having a more up to date appliance, so I don’t want to dwell too long on the expense.

I’ve written of my do it yourself disaster on my lovely pave stone patio. What should have been a quick cleanup job has turned into a weeks long attempt to remove the gray haze from the bricks and restore the color that had turned to gray after we used the wrong product to fill in the crevices. With the concerned help of two friends who read my blog I managed to find some experts who have guided us in the correct ways of eliminating the blemishes. It is going to take many weeks and a great deal of patience but we are already seeing amazing results. I feel certain that we will one day be laughing at the whole episode and wondering why we ever even thought that we might have to live with a monstrosity of our own doing.

Just as I was beginning to relax and breathe again we noticed that the air conditioning unit for the upstairs of our home was blowing hot air. Since I live in one of the most hot and humid cities in all of the United States air conditioning is almost as necessary as air and water, even though there was a long ago time when I lived in a home that had nary a cooling system beyond the built in attic fan that circulated a continuous stream of hot air through the rooms all summer long. The days of living in such primitive conditions are long past for me. I don’t know how many days I would be able to endure before crying “uncle” if I had to return to open windows and fans. So of course we had to call the repairman and his news was as bad as it could be. We must replace the unit with a new one.

I suppose that I saw this situation coming. My system is after all seventeen years old. Central City Air has been keeping it on life support for several years now. For a number of three hundred dollar payments we have made it through the hot season again and again. I suspect that the old unit just couldn’t hold up any longer. It was a valiant and dependable help for more years than most. It’s now time to lay it to rest. The trouble is that the pain of bringing a new unit in could not have come at a worse time. I’m bleeding from the cost of repairs and it just doesn’t feel good. My dreams of doing things that are far more fun are fading away. My funds are instead providing dental work, surgeries, new dishwashers, dryers and such. Oh the joys of growing old in an old house!

I know that I should not even think of complaining. I realize that I am blessed. I am as spoiled as any American. We have a bad habit of whining about things that no doubt seem trivial to someone who lives in a house with a dirt floor and no plumbing or electricity, wondering where to find the next meal. My problems are nothing compared to theirs and yet here I am griping. Still, I know that if I allow myself a moment to vent I will ultimately be just fine. We certainly don’t have to be perfect all of the time and I am taking this opportunity to be briefly woeful before returning to my cheery optimistic self. I understand far too well what real troubles are and this isn’t it.

One shoe drops and then another. Things break and we decide whether to replace them or not. It is hardly the end of the world. My life is so good that I sometimes wonder why out of all of the people on this earth I have been so blessed. I certainly did nothing to deserve my good fortune. It just seemed to happen and I have benefitted greatly. I will get through this inconvenience just as I always have for all of my life.

Sixty years ago I woke up to find that my beloved father was dead. I truly believed at that moment that my family and I would not survive without him, but we did. About fifty years ago my mother endured a mental breakdown that was as frightening as anything that I have ever experienced. I wondered how I would be able to help her through her terrifying illness, and somehow over the next forty six years I managed to find her the care that she needed to lead a fairly normal life. A broken air conditioner is trivial in comparison to such things. I am a rock, a warrior, a mighty woman. With my husband by my side and my friends to offer advice and help I will conquer anything. I’m ready to stay calm and get cool.