The last time I recall playing a board game was the last time we lost electricity. I think it was Payday? There's something about a storm that brings all of the family out of their corners and into one room together. Without anything digital. While Seth is far past any childhood fear of storms, the thought of being de-digitalized makes him tremble.
The storm didn't blow in until after dinner. And so even Seth, who rarely leaves the sanctuary of his bedroom after the dinner hour, made his way downstairs to wait for the storm.
There's nothing like a good storm to bring a family together.
We could hear the thunder in the distance but no one seemed impressed by it. It was clearly too dark for 6:30. There was a wind picking up so I thought I'd take the plants off the porch. I thought twice after I opened the door and caught glimpse of the sky. I rather it be my dahlias (which appear to be duds anyway) than me.
My obsessive compulsive nature led me to The Weather Channel. I must truly have an illness. I hate this channel and yet I compulsively watch it. Endlessly. I get lost in it. It took me years to break my sickness with CNN, which I consider a far worse disease so perhaps there is hope for me yet.
It's not that I have a problem with The Weather Channel's purpose. I think it has a great purpose. But it's nearly always wrong. I find that more often then not, I'm better off planning in a way that is against whatever The Weather Channel forecasts. I wish I enjoyed statistics; this is something I would be interested in determining.
If my thesis is correct, The Weather Channel is an entire advertising scam. Brilliant, but a scam, nonetheless. Not only does it provide you with a lot of inaccurate bunk, but it's publicly accepted as an informational source when it's simply a masquerade of advertisers. Compounding this is the fact that in between inaccurate forecasts is a slew of weather propaganda! It features programs on devastating storms around the clock. Storm Stories! Storms which lead you to purchasing products made to make your home safer in a storm situation. I can't even find out what the weather isn't going to be before I go to bed each night because between 8 and 9 PM is this show dedicated to devastating storms. I am bombarded by fear before I go to sleep.
Remember, you heard it here first! Anyway, I digress...
So we're all gathered in the living room together. The thunder was getting louder; the storm was getting closer. The Weather Channel confirmed there was a storm in my area NOW but I'm not sure what it had actually FOREcasted. Dana was in the rocker by the window with Liam. I asked him to move over to the couch with the baby so he did. Seth was stretched out on his fuzzy orange blanket on the floor near where I was sitting on the couch. Dad was snoozing on the love seat across the room, obviously worn from our busy Saturday. I planned on putting him to bed after the storm.
Both Seth and Dana seemed tempted to scare Lily. It was thundering and she seemed completely unaware. I tried to remind them that even though it might be fun to scare Lily now to see her reaction (which is kind of fun, even though that sounds horrible...) would not be so fun tonight when we all wanted to go to sleep.
The thunder rumbled more loudly now. All of our eyes were drawn to Lily.
Seth asked Lily, "Aren't you scared?"
"No!" she boomed. "I am not scared!"
This girl has been subjected to so many horror stories of dragons and monsters that the thunder is nothing. She is fearless.
Her eyes grew big as she looked towards the window. She said quietly, "The Dark Dog is coming!"
Seth started snickering. Dana thought she meant this little dog we had seen on our neighbor's roof that morning.
"Do you mean the dog across the street?" he asked.
"Nooooo...the dark dog!" she said again, jabbering away a lot of other nonsense I couldn't quite decipher.
Seth said, "No, Lily! It's the Dark Doll! The Dark Doll!"
Seth explained how he had told her this story about the dark doll who comes to suck your soul in the storm.
I was really looking forward to bedtime now...
"I'm going to suck your soul, Seth!" announced Lily. That's one thing I never thought I would hear my two and a half year old say to her brother. Of course, I did name her 'Lilith'. So.
First, she barked at Seth and began to growl like a dog.
She scooted over to him, leaned down, and licked Seth's face.
Then, she barked a few more times, and licked Seth's face again.
"Ahhhhhh! Seth!!" I shouted, "She licked your face! Remember how use to do that to me? She licked your face! Now! That's karma!"
Seth couldn't get Lily to stop barking at him and licking him. I couldn't stop laughing because Seth used to do that to me when he was little. I would lean in to give him a sweet kiss, and he would quick lick my face wet. Yuck.
There was a bit more activity than I would have liked for a storm huddle but our family has changed so much since the days when it was only me, Seth and Dana. It was easier to huddle around a board game with tea light candles when we weren't constantly intercepting either a toddler or a Grandpa Bob. But it was probably still more sedate in the living room than it typically would have been at this hour of the evening. It settled us.
By the time it cleared, Liam had fallen asleep, without us noticing, and so had Dad. 2 out of 7 put down.
And the next time Dad asks me "Where are we going to sleep tonight?", I must remember how many times across my lifespan I must have asked him, "Are we there yet?"
5.30.2008
Day 151. in which Bob lectures Alex, and it is welcome.
It's been a really long time since I've had a lecture from my dear old dad. But tonight he had it stuck in his head that I needed to go back to college and get my degree (which I already have).
My father used to lecture me a lot as a kid, particularly in the car. And he knew every single back road in Columbia County so I heard a lot of them... We often rode around for no good reason - just to ride around. Of course, gas was much less expensive then. Usually, the radio was not played by law of Dad. I think he found it distracting. Instead, he would hum several bars of Starry, Starry Night over and over and over again.
"Starry Starry Night...dada dada dada da! dada dada dada da! da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da!"
He inflected every note of the song but never sang more than those first three words.
I was nearly 30 before I actually heard this song for real. I wasn't certain if it was actually a real song or if it was just something he had made up to hum to himself.
In-between humming this refrain, he would lecture me. He would start out clearing his throat, launching into, "O.K...Fatherly lecture #374..."
And in keeping with 'Bob Brown' style, each one of these came with a vivid illustration, often of someone he had known 'personally'. The plow decapitation victims were several young Hudson, NY girls who used to stop at his older brother's garage, Dell's Shell on the Park, where he pumped gas when he was young. Now I don't know if these young ladies who met an early demise ever actually existed. Now that I'm older and a parent myself, I suspect Dad was just taking advantage of certain literary conventions in an attempt to have me empathize with the protagonists of the stories.
He thought it would be fun if he wrote down his fatherly lectures, if we collaborated on some writing together. I am sad to say that I never took him up on this offer.
Now, not all of Dad's lectures were silly. And even the so-called 'silly' ones had were well intended. I find myself using some of these same tricks from time to time with my own kids. (Ask Seth about the basement monkeys...) Many times, Dad was full of excellent advice, pushing me constantly to go back to college, to do this, to do that...
"Ahhh! What a pain!" I thought. Every single time he would come to visit - for MANY YEARS - he would bug me about going back to school. He thought I was a good writer. He wanted to see me do something. He even printed out the crappy papers I wrote in high school and saved them. They weren't really genius, but Dad acted impressed, nonetheless.
Well, tonight, Dana was out for a bit. Lily and Liam were wrestling in the living room and Seth was hanging out at Tony's Card Shop with his friends. Dad was in his customary spot on the love seat and I sat down next to him, something I should try to do more often on a regular basis.
This is when he started to lecture me - lecture me about going back to school.
"You know, I took a class at Hudson Valley once," he stated. Hudson Valley is actually an excellent community college, but when I was a stupid teenager, all of my friends referred to it as "Happy Valley" and I felt it would have been more embarrassing to go to a community college than going to a real school. I had my heart set on Middlebury. I was accepted at St. Rose. I was not going to go to Happy Valley...I was not going to go to a community college.
Oh, how very young and stupid I was then!
Dad continued to prod me about going back to college and how he really wanted me to go back to get a four year degree.
"But Dad, I graduated from college already," I explained.
"What?!...When did that happen? Why didn't someone tell me?" he demanded.
"It's OK, Dad; you were there. It was just such a long time ago now. That's why you probably can't think of it."
"Oh, O.K....well, where did you go?" he asked.
"SUNY New Paltz."
"Oh, O.K....well, that's good then, isn't it?" he asked.
We spent some more time on the couch before Dana came back to house. It was nearing 7:30 and time to put Liam down and tuck Dad into bad. I walked Dad up while Dana amused Liam for a few minutes. At first, he protested that we weren't going to share a room.
"Believe me, Dad, I have to sleep with the babies and you do not want to do that! I will see you in the morning; I will wake you up for breakfast," I said, thinking in my head that there was no way I'd be up before him. I often find Dad in the living room at 3 in the morning, waiting in the dark...
As I was closing his bedroom door tonight, he suddenly came up with a good idea.
"Hey! How about SUNY New Paltz?" he suggested.
Incidentally, about six years ago now, I had bought some new clothes and left the tiny plastic clothing tags laying on my dining room table. Later on, I was eating some dip out of a bowl on the same table. Now I don't know how that tiny plastic tag ended up in the dip, but it did...and I nearly choked on it!
Father knows best!
My father used to lecture me a lot as a kid, particularly in the car. And he knew every single back road in Columbia County so I heard a lot of them... We often rode around for no good reason - just to ride around. Of course, gas was much less expensive then. Usually, the radio was not played by law of Dad. I think he found it distracting. Instead, he would hum several bars of Starry, Starry Night over and over and over again.
"Starry Starry Night...dada dada dada da! dada dada dada da! da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da!"
He inflected every note of the song but never sang more than those first three words.
I was nearly 30 before I actually heard this song for real. I wasn't certain if it was actually a real song or if it was just something he had made up to hum to himself.
In-between humming this refrain, he would lecture me. He would start out clearing his throat, launching into, "O.K...Fatherly lecture #374..."
- Don't leave clothing tags on the table after you cut them off your new clothes, or else someone might choke on them.
- Don't turn your wheels when sitting at the red light at an intersection, or else a plow may come up behind you, hit the back end of your car, and push you into another lane of track. (There was also a variation of this which ended with the plow decapitating you.)
- Don't mow a wet lawn - especially on a hillside - or else you might get sucked under and lose a foot. (Dad wouldn't let me mow the lawn til I was nearly 16, and even then, he was reluctant.)
- Don't distract the driver at an intersection.
And in keeping with 'Bob Brown' style, each one of these came with a vivid illustration, often of someone he had known 'personally'. The plow decapitation victims were several young Hudson, NY girls who used to stop at his older brother's garage, Dell's Shell on the Park, where he pumped gas when he was young. Now I don't know if these young ladies who met an early demise ever actually existed. Now that I'm older and a parent myself, I suspect Dad was just taking advantage of certain literary conventions in an attempt to have me empathize with the protagonists of the stories.
He thought it would be fun if he wrote down his fatherly lectures, if we collaborated on some writing together. I am sad to say that I never took him up on this offer.
Now, not all of Dad's lectures were silly. And even the so-called 'silly' ones had were well intended. I find myself using some of these same tricks from time to time with my own kids. (Ask Seth about the basement monkeys...) Many times, Dad was full of excellent advice, pushing me constantly to go back to college, to do this, to do that...
"Ahhh! What a pain!" I thought. Every single time he would come to visit - for MANY YEARS - he would bug me about going back to school. He thought I was a good writer. He wanted to see me do something. He even printed out the crappy papers I wrote in high school and saved them. They weren't really genius, but Dad acted impressed, nonetheless.
Well, tonight, Dana was out for a bit. Lily and Liam were wrestling in the living room and Seth was hanging out at Tony's Card Shop with his friends. Dad was in his customary spot on the love seat and I sat down next to him, something I should try to do more often on a regular basis.
This is when he started to lecture me - lecture me about going back to school.
"You know, I took a class at Hudson Valley once," he stated. Hudson Valley is actually an excellent community college, but when I was a stupid teenager, all of my friends referred to it as "Happy Valley" and I felt it would have been more embarrassing to go to a community college than going to a real school. I had my heart set on Middlebury. I was accepted at St. Rose. I was not going to go to Happy Valley...I was not going to go to a community college.
Oh, how very young and stupid I was then!
Dad continued to prod me about going back to college and how he really wanted me to go back to get a four year degree.
"But Dad, I graduated from college already," I explained.
"What?!...When did that happen? Why didn't someone tell me?" he demanded.
"It's OK, Dad; you were there. It was just such a long time ago now. That's why you probably can't think of it."
"Oh, O.K....well, where did you go?" he asked.
"SUNY New Paltz."
"Oh, O.K....well, that's good then, isn't it?" he asked.
We spent some more time on the couch before Dana came back to house. It was nearing 7:30 and time to put Liam down and tuck Dad into bad. I walked Dad up while Dana amused Liam for a few minutes. At first, he protested that we weren't going to share a room.
"Believe me, Dad, I have to sleep with the babies and you do not want to do that! I will see you in the morning; I will wake you up for breakfast," I said, thinking in my head that there was no way I'd be up before him. I often find Dad in the living room at 3 in the morning, waiting in the dark...
As I was closing his bedroom door tonight, he suddenly came up with a good idea.
"Hey! How about SUNY New Paltz?" he suggested.
* * *
Incidentally, about six years ago now, I had bought some new clothes and left the tiny plastic clothing tags laying on my dining room table. Later on, I was eating some dip out of a bowl on the same table. Now I don't know how that tiny plastic tag ended up in the dip, but it did...and I nearly choked on it!
Father knows best!
5.27.2008
Day 148. in which it is worth it.
When my father came to live with me, I wasn't prepared for the fact that he wasn't quite the same person that I thought of in my head when I thought of my 'Dad'. It was obvious that he wasn't well enough to live on in his own; he would sometimes call me over and over again. Sometimes he would relay what was on every channel as he clicked through with the remote control. He thought this very funny, actually.
Since he was an hour and a half away, most of my knowledge of his actions were second-hand. Even though Dad called me a lot on the phone, he was abstracted from my immediate reality. Because of this, in many ways, I thought of him still as my dear old Dad, just as he always had been. Ready to offer advice. Someone I didn't want to let down. Someone who would always tell me the right thing to do, even if I didn't realize it at the time...
Dad came to live with us a couple of weeks after Liam was born. Probably not the best time for turnover, but practical since I was home on maternity leave. It would give me a lot of time to orient Dad to his new surroundings.
I had first-hand experience with Alzheimer's so I thought I was prepared for this move.
But I was not.
I didn't even know how to talk to him. I didn't really understand how advanced he already was. I was frustrated with him because he was so uncooperative and I was just trying to help him. He was very angry that I would not let him go home.
Why won't you cooperate with me?
I tried to make Dad maintain a journal. My thoughts were if he could see his notes in his own hand-writing, perhaps he would trust me. If he could see a record in his writing that he couldn't remember writing, then he would just have to believe me when I told him that his memory was impaired.
One time I took a peek in his journal and found a note he wrote all on his own. There was a note scrawled in it that read, "Alex is mean to her dear old Dad."
I was actually impressed he wrote this on his own. But I felt sad that Dad just thought I was mean and mad at him. I just wanted him to understand what I was doing was for his own benefit.
Sigh. Another would I, could I go back and give it a different try.
Unfortunately, the journaling didn't last long. I realized quickly that Dad had trouble forming letters; he could no longer remember how to draw many letters of the alphabet. And this from a man who has his Masters in Library Science.
As I watched him decline, I longed for the old habits he had that used to irritate me. Looking for random things. It used to make me insane. He'd carry around this mini-cooler of odds and ends - his shake flashlights; loose change; his wallet; a handkerchief. He would lose it, search for it, find it, and lose it again, and again.
But the searching kept him in motion. Fruitless? Perhaps for his intended purpose. But at least he was still active, self-motivated, moving around the house instead of sleeping on the couch.
I wanted him to take me to the diner, bring him home, and then ask me if I wanted to go to the diner again.
I missed his complaining and general grousing. I would rather have him yell at me about being controlling over him being unable to form a sentence with words that made sense.
I just didn't realize at all how sick he already was. In a way, it was like losing a parent without even realizing it until several months later.
On Saturday, I picked up a new prescription for Dad at Neko-Dederick's. The medication - the Exelon patch - has only been available on the market in patch form for several months now. It is used to treat both Parkinson's as well as Alzheimer's. The problem with the pill form of Exelon is that it causes stomach problems in many patients. Dad couldn't even digest Aricept; he wasn't going to do well with Exelon.
He's been on it now only for 3 days. Dana and I were on the front porch watering the plants tonight, talking about all of the slight changes we were already noticing in his behavior. His shaking had stopped. He was allowing me out of his eyesight. He seemed relaxed and made silly 'Bob' jokes.
Dad overheard us on the porch. He looked concerned. "What do you mean? Is there something wrong with me?" he asked. Dana explained to him about his new medication and how well he was doing on it. Dad looked confused when Dana asked him if he could remember living here for the past year and a half? He didn't say much and I didn't realize he was upset. I thought he had just wandered off, his attention drawn to something else.
I walked towards the kitchen, down the hall from the front porch. Dad was standing alone in the kitchen, staring at me as I walked towards him. He was hard to read; his face was like stone. Expressionless. I leaned in to give him a hug.
"Do you love me?" he whispered quietly.
"Of course I love you!" I said.
There was a pause.
"...Was it worth it?" he asked.
"Yes, Dad, it is worth it," I said.
Since he was an hour and a half away, most of my knowledge of his actions were second-hand. Even though Dad called me a lot on the phone, he was abstracted from my immediate reality. Because of this, in many ways, I thought of him still as my dear old Dad, just as he always had been. Ready to offer advice. Someone I didn't want to let down. Someone who would always tell me the right thing to do, even if I didn't realize it at the time...
Dad came to live with us a couple of weeks after Liam was born. Probably not the best time for turnover, but practical since I was home on maternity leave. It would give me a lot of time to orient Dad to his new surroundings.
I had first-hand experience with Alzheimer's so I thought I was prepared for this move.
But I was not.
I didn't even know how to talk to him. I didn't really understand how advanced he already was. I was frustrated with him because he was so uncooperative and I was just trying to help him. He was very angry that I would not let him go home.
Why won't you cooperate with me?
I tried to make Dad maintain a journal. My thoughts were if he could see his notes in his own hand-writing, perhaps he would trust me. If he could see a record in his writing that he couldn't remember writing, then he would just have to believe me when I told him that his memory was impaired.
One time I took a peek in his journal and found a note he wrote all on his own. There was a note scrawled in it that read, "Alex is mean to her dear old Dad."
I was actually impressed he wrote this on his own. But I felt sad that Dad just thought I was mean and mad at him. I just wanted him to understand what I was doing was for his own benefit.
Sigh. Another would I, could I go back and give it a different try.
Unfortunately, the journaling didn't last long. I realized quickly that Dad had trouble forming letters; he could no longer remember how to draw many letters of the alphabet. And this from a man who has his Masters in Library Science.
As I watched him decline, I longed for the old habits he had that used to irritate me. Looking for random things. It used to make me insane. He'd carry around this mini-cooler of odds and ends - his shake flashlights; loose change; his wallet; a handkerchief. He would lose it, search for it, find it, and lose it again, and again.
But the searching kept him in motion. Fruitless? Perhaps for his intended purpose. But at least he was still active, self-motivated, moving around the house instead of sleeping on the couch.
I wanted him to take me to the diner, bring him home, and then ask me if I wanted to go to the diner again.
I missed his complaining and general grousing. I would rather have him yell at me about being controlling over him being unable to form a sentence with words that made sense.
I just didn't realize at all how sick he already was. In a way, it was like losing a parent without even realizing it until several months later.
* * *
On Saturday, I picked up a new prescription for Dad at Neko-Dederick's. The medication - the Exelon patch - has only been available on the market in patch form for several months now. It is used to treat both Parkinson's as well as Alzheimer's. The problem with the pill form of Exelon is that it causes stomach problems in many patients. Dad couldn't even digest Aricept; he wasn't going to do well with Exelon.
He's been on it now only for 3 days. Dana and I were on the front porch watering the plants tonight, talking about all of the slight changes we were already noticing in his behavior. His shaking had stopped. He was allowing me out of his eyesight. He seemed relaxed and made silly 'Bob' jokes.
Dad overheard us on the porch. He looked concerned. "What do you mean? Is there something wrong with me?" he asked. Dana explained to him about his new medication and how well he was doing on it. Dad looked confused when Dana asked him if he could remember living here for the past year and a half? He didn't say much and I didn't realize he was upset. I thought he had just wandered off, his attention drawn to something else.
I walked towards the kitchen, down the hall from the front porch. Dad was standing alone in the kitchen, staring at me as I walked towards him. He was hard to read; his face was like stone. Expressionless. I leaned in to give him a hug.
"Do you love me?" he whispered quietly.
"Of course I love you!" I said.
There was a pause.
"...Was it worth it?" he asked.
"Yes, Dad, it is worth it," I said.
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