IN MEMORIAM

Mary “Ibbeth” and her doll baby.

 

MARY  ELIZABETH  SHEPHERD

July 12, 1918 ~ December 22, 2016

 

A woman whose faith sustained her, whose love and kindness sustained others, and whose devotion to children everywhere made a difference in generation after generation.

Mary and Ray with their family, daughter Marylin and son David

Mary holding Marylin’s daughter Molly and David’s son Andrew (grandson Nic was born three years later)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ray and Mary holding their first great-grandchild, Grace (soon followed by her brother)

Mary with their two great-grandchildren, Grace and Gannon

 

 

 

 

 

“Be near me when my light is low.” ~ from Alfred, Lord Tennyson’s “In Memoriam”

In loving memory of a life well lived.

 

Advertisement

NOT A GOOD VISUAL

A more polite version of my response to the yoga improvement discussed on talk radio.

From our house in Colorado to my mom’s assisted living in southeast Kansas is a round trip drive of 1,300 miles.  When Jim is at the wheel we listen to sports or news.   When I’m driving, I search radio stations for interesting topics and call-in reactions.  I’ve mentioned several of the strange topics in previous posts, but the one I listened to on this trip home after Thanksgiving takes the prize.  Last place prize.

Briefly, the program I flipped to responded to an earlier topic argued on another station.  The basic theme was making regular activities more interesting during the holidays and into the New Year.  I tuned in to catch up on the conversation about spicing up Yoga groups and classes by doing naked yoga.   Lots of responses to that one, I tell you.

Now, to reset that December visual, here are some other interesting Christmas details.   For instance, did you know that one common superstition says that animals speak on Christmas Eve?   The elderly neighbor who told me this, spiced it up by adding that it was very bad luck to tease animals and try to make them talk.

The second superstition—shared by the same neighbor—was that when you get new shoes for Christmas, if times are hard for others, you should not wear the shoes until later.   Otherwise it might cause hurt feelings, and would tempt you to feel proud.  And pride goes before the fall, which is, of course, more bad luck.

Old shoes at Christmas work just fine, and they don’t hurt any feelings.

This last one is not a superstition, but a trivia question. What is still one of the most popular, enduring Christmas movies viewed during the holidays?   If you answered IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE, you’re right.  Unless you agree with actor Tom Hanks, who says it’s ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT, and he watches it every Christmas.   I’ve read Remarque’s sad, bloody war novel, and trust me,  it’s not anywhere on my must-see movie list. But we each have our own opinions.

Which brings me to something my mother used to say before dementia clouded her thoughts.  I had a tendency to jump right in and argue about all kinds of things, and she repeatedly  told me that if someone said something I didn’t like or agree with, I didn’t always have to be rude or argue.  I could just shrug, turn away or go on with other things.

If she’d been riding with me and hearing the radio talk show on naked yoga, I wonder if she would have laughed, been shocked, argued with the topic…or just reached out and turned off the radio.  Probably the last…her version of turning away and going on with other things.

Thankful for Makahiki, Sarah Hale, and Roto-Rooter

(Look for splashes of color on dreary November days. There’s always something to be grateful for if you’ll look for it.)

If one of your Thanksgiving dinner traditions is for everyone around the table to tell what they’re thankful for, in case your favorites are taken before it’s your turn, here are three more.

MAKAHIKI: Long before the Pilgrims, Native Hawaiians celebrated Makahiki, which lasted from November through February.  During this longest thanksgiving in the world, both work and war were forbidden.

(Wikipedia picture of the 4-month thanksgiving Hawaiian Makahiki.)

 

(Sarah Hale ~ more than just author of “Mary Had A Little Lamb”~ Wikipedia picture.)

SARAH HALE (1788-1879): Author of hundreds of poems, including “Mary Had A Little Lamb,” Hale was considered the “Mother of Thanksgiving.”   She convinced President Lincoln to proclaim a national holiday on the last Thursday in November, when harvests were done and elections were over.  She said it would “awaken Americans’ hearts to love of home and country, thankfulness to God, and peace.”

ROTO-ROOTER: This is one of the “practical essentials” to be grateful for after Thanksgiving.  On the true (Stopped Up) Black Friday after Thanksgiving, Roto-Rooter and other major plumbing services are at their busiest, cleaning up sewer problems.

My family wishes your families a warm and wonderful Thanksgiving.  If you’re eager to welcome in the Christmas season, feel free to begin singing “Jingle Bells”…which was originally written as a Thanksgiving song.

Abilene, KS h.s. marching band practices in the streets, a foot-tapping, hand-clapping, musical way to welcome Thanksgiving! (these two pictures and the top one by Marylin Warner)

This Thanksgiving’s special donut at the bakery ~ iced donut filled with pumpkin-spice cream. Yum!

HAPTIC MEMORIES

“Move the pen, Charlie Brown, or the knitting needles or paint brush. It’s good for you! Just do it!”

One of my favorite gifts to give to special friends for Congratulations, Thinking of You, and Get Well Soon is a colorful hand-knitted washcloth wrapped around a bar of fancy bath soap and tied with ribbon.  It’s a relaxing, TV-watching activity for me, but it took awhile to locate the directions.

Years before my mother’s dementia, she learned the pattern for these washcloths, and she delivered the colorful, much appreciated gifts with homemade soap to many friends and hospital patients.   So six years ago when I wanted to knit my own, I expected that Mom would show me how.

“But I never knitted anything,” she said, obviously confused and forgetful of the many scarves and baby blankets she’d made.  She was adamant.  So I sat in the chair next to her recliner, took out my knitting needles and yarns and began making a basic washcloth of horizontal lines of stitches… practical but not unusual or especially attractive.  I put another set of needles and a ball of yarn next to my mother without saying anything.

It didn’t take long before she picked up the needles and—while still watching the TV—she cast on yarn and began knitting.  Soon I recognized the diagonal increase on each row, then decreases that for years she’d used to create lacy borders on all four sides.  I unraveled my straight horizontal rows and started over.  Mom took a nap, and when she awoke she commented on the pretty piece I was knitting, and asked where I’d learned it.

Haptic memory retrieval occurs through smell, sound, and touch, but most especially touch.  Repetitive physical, tactile activities buried by Alzheimer’s, dementia or stroke damage can be nudged alive via Haptic memory retrieval.  Playing musical instruments, braiding hair, tying shoe laces, digging in soil to plant seeds, drawing and painting are among helpful Haptic activites.

There is one Haptic example that is humorous but not recommended.   In 1901, modern toilet paper began when a Green Bay, Wisconsin company marketed “sanitary tissue.” However, during the manufacturing process, wood chips remained embedded in the toilet paper, which was not a good thing. It was years before another process made “splinter-free” toilet paper.  Needless to say, we’re grateful this is not used as Haptic memory retrieval.

MONEY TALKS…AND SO DO PICTURES

If money talks, what does this ten-dollar bill say about Scout?  

This photo essay begins with my parents. Fritz was their shelter dog who was “supposed to be” a small mixed breed, but his body grew to match his personality.   Before his Alzheimer’s, Dad used to say, “Let’s talk, Fritz,” and they did.

Maggie was our first rescued dog. For 13 years she was Jim’s hiking buddy, my cuddle pal, and a treasured member of our entire family.  She was included in all travels, every hike, holiday and event.  She was also Scout’s “angel” who made our hearts ready for the last puppy in her litter, waiting for us to find her at the Humane Society.

 

From the first hour, Scout got plenty of hugs, love…and also a lot of patience.  (Chewing has been her favorite sport, as seen in top picture.)

 

 

 

This is Scout with “Squeak,” her first chew toy and still her favorite little friend.  Like a baby with a favorite blanket, Scout can’t go to sleep at night unless she has Squeak.

 

Dogs bring their own new friends into the family.  Here, Scout rests with her friend Kodi, a chocolate poodle, after a busy play date.  Kodi’s parents Jeff and Karen, have coffee on the deck with us, Scout’s parents.  Kodi is now in training to be a Companion Dog.  We miss her.

On previous posts, I’ve shared our daughter’s family pets: Munchkin, the kitten adopted from a farm family; and Duchess, the gorgeous all-black German Shepherd who was adopted from a soldier being deployed from Ft. Riley.  All of our pets have made our family bigger, better, more patient, and also pet-happy and very fur-friendly.

OCTOBER IS “ADOPT A SHELTER DOG MONTH”   Shelters are always looking for good adoptive “parents” and are also in need of donations to continue providing for homeless animals.

 

 

STRENGTH FROM DEEP ROOTS

(My favorite Sandzen painting from the Birger Sandzen Memorial Gallery in Lindsborg, KS)

 

 

(Early autumn glory in Abilene, Kansas)

Last week when I visited my mother, at night as she lay snuggled under the quilt on her bed I read aloud to her from chapters in Robert Fulghum’s ALL I REALLY NEED TO KNOW I LEARNED IN KINDERGARTEN.   Mom had been a kindergarten teacher at one time, and before she became lost in dementia, she really enjoyed this book.

But that evening I flipped the book open to the wrong chapter about villagers in the Solomon Islands who had a unique way of taking down a tree.   They didn’t chop it down with axes; the entire village yelled at the tree every day for a month, and the tree fell over.   When I read this aloud, Mom frowned.   With her eyes still closed she scrunched up her face and adamantly shook her head NO!.

After my parents built our house on a large empty lot in 1953, my mother planted 16 varieties of trees (27 trees, total) and did all the landscaping herself.   She has always loved trees, and by example she taught me to love them, too.

As an apology for reading about the villagers killing trees by yelling at them—even though it was meant as a lesson for children to always using kind, gentle words—and also in tribute to my mother, I dedicate this post to all of us who love trees.   And just for the record, to make up for my mistake that night, I read aloud to Mom for another hour, but only from the chapters that made her smile.

As Andrea Koehle Jones wrote in THE WISH TREES, “I’m planting a tree to teach me to gather strength from my deepest roots.”

And as a concluding reminder of the long-term importance of trees, Jim Robbins, author of THE MAN WHO PLANTED TREES, wrote this: “Planting trees may be the single most important ecotechnology that we have to put the broken pieces of our planet back together.”

(“Woodrow Wilson tree” on my walking route in Colorado Springs.)                              

(Kansas sunset)

 

(Children’s Easter egg tree near Garden of the Gods in Colorado Springs.)

Friday Favorites…that have nothing to do with politics

“What’cha lookin’ at?” Ostrich at Rolling Hills Zoo.

African Message Pole, Rolling Hills Zoo, Salina, KS. Interpret your own happy message from the symbols!

Finding this old picture of my dad and Fritz having their morning “talk” made me smile.  (Fort Scott, KS)

My dad appreciated old trucks, especially Fords; he said it was “a guy thing.” His granddaughter protested: “trucks are for girls, too!”

Max Ehrmann, author of DESIDERATA: A Poem for a Way of Life, wrote this: “With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.”     

Today, I want to share some of my favorite things that make me happy when I travel to Kansas. You already know of our daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren (at the top of our happiness scale), and my dad, who died of Alzheimer’s, and my mother who is lost deep in dementia. These people are the core of our focus and thoughts when we drive to Kansas each month.

But there are also many cheerful, striving-to-be-happy places and things in Kansas I want to share with you through these pictures. My dad was right: if you take a deep breath, look around, and appreciate things that make you smile, you can also find reasons to be happy and have hope.

Gunn Park “Tiny House” (Fort Scott, KS) Built in 1927 by the park caretaker for his young daughters and visitors. It’s 14″ high and 12″ long, including the front porch.

Happy Children bench sculpture, downtown in Abilene, KS

 

Bakery fundraiser: iced cookies: KS, and Chapman High School –both delicious!

 

Milford Lake Butterfly House (near Junction City, KS) A colorful, fluttering good time!

 

Abilene, KS (where the h.s. sports teams are the Cowboys and Cowgirls). I want a sign for writers in front of the writing section of the library: Writer Parking Only: All others will be rejected. 🙂

Summer sunset on a farm outside Fort Scott, KS. Tomorrow will be a gorgeous day!

Swiftly Flow The Years

 

I never thought I would quote Robert Frost and Paris Hilton in the same post, but their combined words aptly summarize my mother’s 98^th birthday this past week.

Robert Frost: “A diplomat is a man who always remembers a woman’s birthday but never remembers her age.” Paris Hilton: “The way I see it, you should live every day like it’s your birthday.”

My mother does not remember her age, or for the most part where she is, how old she is, or what is happening. Every day could be her birthday, and even with cake, candles, balloons and cards, she still would not realize what day it is.

But we still celebrate her birthday.  She has had a remarkable life, and we are here because of her.   We–her daughter, granddaughter and great-grandchildren–drove to Ft. Scott last weekend so we could sit together with her at night, reading aloud her favorite children’s poems and prayers, and also sing to her.  We took turns telling her short, happy stories we remember about our lives with her, and with her eyes still closed, she amazed us by smiling and nodding in agreement!  We were thrilled to have her respond.

 

The pictures on this week’s post are of the double chocolate cake we brought, the balloons and the yellow poster board with handwritten messages and cards from our family.   I’m not posting any of the pictures of Mom on this birthday; she is on oxygen and sleeping most of the time. So I’ll share three pictures from the past that show how swiftly the years of her beautiful life have flown.

“Sunrise, Sunset” is one of my favorite songs from FIDDLER ON THE ROOF, and it summarizes how quickly the years pass for all of us. They’re to be cherished every day, but especially on a 98^th birthday, even when the birthday girl doesn’t realize what day it is.

Grandma with her first two grandchildren. Baby Molly is the mother of Grace and Gannon, my mom’s two great-grandchildren.

Mary Elizabeth, age 2 1/2,
with her brother Ira on the farm in Missouri.

My mother’s college graduation picture.

H. U. G. , not shrug

(…and your dad, too)
Keep Calm posters from Pinterest

 

 

Hug now, while you can. This 2001 “Group Hug” was before my dad’s Alzheimer’s and my mom’s dementia.

I smiled as I read the banner that floated outside the children’s center: hugs Help You Giggle    Below that was this message:  Help Someone Giggle On June 29th ~ Give Hugs, Not Shrugs

This Wednesday is “Hug Holiday: Give Hugs to Those Who Need Them”    The truth is, we all need a little help sometimes.   On June 29^th, be generous with your hugs, or if you’re not big on hugging, then reach out with a smile.   Little acts of kindness can make a big difference.

If a picture is really worth a thousand words, then this week’s brief post is actually 4,000 words. The message: Read Less, Hug More.

When in doubt at dress-up occasions, give a hug.

 

Scout is growing up, but she’s still our hugging puppy, and this makes us very happy.

 

When someone is nervous and really hoping for something, cross your fingers, touch hands, and hope together.

 

 

The Practice of Remembering

 

 

There are so many things we forget: keys, passwords, New Year’s Resolutions, important dates like birthdays and anniversaries. We also forget to take medicine, get things at the store, pay bills, return calls or answer emails.  But there are some things we should always remember.

This Memorial Day, our daughter Molly and our grandchildren, Grace and Gannon, drove with me to Fort Scott for the weekend. We went to visit my mother, to take her fun foods, and to sing songs and read to her, hold her hand and talk to her until she fell asleep at night.  It was our way of making contact and thanking her.   Without her, none of us would be here.

People were scattered throughout the cemetery adorning other tombstones when we took fresh silk flower bouquets to my father’s gravesite. We removed the faded silks and greenery from the marble vases at each end of Dad’s headstone, and we put bright bouquets of spring flowers in their place.  As we paused for a few private words and thoughts, we left pennies lined up along the top as a reminder we’d been there.

Molly divided the extra flowers into four groups, one for each of us. We went our separate ways to find neglected tombstones—no newer than 1899—in need of care, attention, and kind words.  It was a serious, touching time, each of us showing respect for a stranger who had been forgotten.

Author Tess Gerritson wrote: “Only the forgotten are truly dead.”

It’s also a lesson for remembering the living. Poet W.H. Auden wrote, “And none will hear the postman’s knock ~ Without the quickening of the heart ~ For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?”

When the four of us returned to my mother’s apartment, she was waking from a nap. We sat around her and told her about the flowers we’d taken to Dad’s grave, and how nice it all looked. She smiled, then asked, “What about my sister Wanda? She deserves flowers, too.” I explained that Wanda was in Tennessee (I didn’t say she was buried there) and I was certain her children visited her with flowers, too. Mom smiled and nodded.

Then we put fresh flowers in a vase and set it next to Mary Elizabeth—nicknamed Mary Ibbeth by her siblings—because she deserves flowers, too.  On Memorial Day special care must also be given to remind the living how much they are still appreciated.

So her great-grandchildren will remember how much she loved and enjoyed them before the dementia, we show them pictures from years ago.