Overcast, intermittent rain. Sometimes heavy, sometimes just a drizzle. Tradewinds blowing, giving continuing movement in the garden as I look out onto the back yard. Cool enough that I had to find a fleece jacket. One of those curl-up-under-a-blanket-and-read-a-good-book days.
Temperature at 10:30 a.m.? 69.1 at the airport.
Give thanks for the rain --- and a warm jacket. Don't forget to pray ....
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
3 March 2010
It's been 3 years since you passed over. In some ways it was yesterday. In other ways, it was forever ago.
I miss you terribly, and I miss the life we had in Groveland. It was our place, the place where we lived most of our shared life. It shaped so much of what we both became. I think we both found ourselves there. I never realized what a country girl I am until I moved back to a city. I'm a better, more rounded person because of what I learned there, learned from you. Thank you for making the decision that ultimately took us to Groveland.
This being alone, being independent, stuff doesn't really suit me. I miss your gently nipping at my heels to get things done. I miss sharing dinner -- even at Perko's --, visits to a quirky museum or gallery, to book shops and hardware stores. Remember the extra-terrestrial museum in Sonora? Hasn't been there for more than 30 years.... Those things are not the same without someone to share your impressions, and offer their own. I miss street fairs and craft fairs -- remember the one in Gainesboro, Tennessee where the young teen was walking her calf through town like anyone else would walk a dog? That was where we learned why they didn't have local post cards in at least 3 counties -- they got a divorce, he was the photographer, but she got the postcard making machine! It's just not the same without you to see the humor and remind me to laugh.
How often did you tell me, "It's a joke, Bonnie P. You can laugh." and we'd laugh together.
You will be pleased to know I've finally gone back to church. I often feel your hand in mine at the Lord's Prayer, just as we all joined hands at Grace Mission. I'm just beginning to realize how much Bishop Vic spoiled us, and how well trained we were as lay leaders under his leadership. Remember the conference at ECCO where Dr. Sam Garrett taught 3 sessions of systematic theology focusing on covenants? It makes me smile to recall how much you enjoyed those sessions. Remember the Cursillo teams we worked and the many friends we made through Cursillo? And how much stronger we became as individuals and as a couple because of Cursillo?
I approach Easter with no small measure of fear. Much as I love the Easter hymns, I don't know that I can even hear them, much less sing them, without tears. Yet. It's soooooo embarrassing to fall apart in the middle of a church service.
You will also be pleased that I am still active in genealogy work with the Groveland Museum, and have also become active in Daughters of Hawaii. The museum at the Queen Emma Summer Palace is both larger and older than our museum in Groveland, but has a similar range of wonderful people keeping it together. As in Groveland, I can work behind the scenes to help put what we have into historical context that makes sense to our visitors.
So I am beginning to find my feet again. Meds help. Christie is coming in June, with her girls -- her own two, and an exchange student from Germany. That will help. A call from Kimo would be nice. You understand the importance of family. Healing is still a long, slow process. Just stick around and keep reminding me that this, too, I can do.
I'll keep praying.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Hearing and Listening
Living with a 95-year-old nearly deaf person is a lot like living alone. My mother has spent far too much time alone. She can no longer be bothered making the effort to carry on a real conversation. I crave the sound of a human voice.
Sometimes I am just looking for background noise. Radio talk shows are good for that. Click and Clack, the Tappet Brothers of PBS "Car Talk" fame are good, because there's lots of laughter along with the talk. It's hard to feel sorry for yourself in the midst of laughter! Music also works, but it lacks the conversational quality I seek.
Sometimes I am just looking for background noise. Radio talk shows are good for that. Click and Clack, the Tappet Brothers of PBS "Car Talk" fame are good, because there's lots of laughter along with the talk. It's hard to feel sorry for yourself in the midst of laughter! Music also works, but it lacks the conversational quality I seek.
When I am doing something relatively mindless -- cleaning, yard work, sewing or other needlework, even occasionally walking -- my iPod gets a workout. I can listen to things that require attention. A good novel. A thoughtful conversation, often from other Public Radio broadcasts.
That was where I discovered the elephants.
Early this year, 60 Minutes (I know, they are neither public broadcasting nor radio.) broadcast a segment called The Secret Language of Elephants. It was fascinating.
Elephants speak? That's reasonable. Most animals communicate in one way or another.
In tones beyond the range of human hearing? Tones one can feel rather than hear? If I pay attention at the local zoo, I might be able to hear/feel their language? That's a more challenging concept.
Speak with enough diversity that it justifies producing a rather substantial dictionary? Wow!!
That was where I discovered the elephants.
Early this year, 60 Minutes (I know, they are neither public broadcasting nor radio.) broadcast a segment called The Secret Language of Elephants. It was fascinating.
Elephants speak? That's reasonable. Most animals communicate in one way or another.
In tones beyond the range of human hearing? Tones one can feel rather than hear? If I pay attention at the local zoo, I might be able to hear/feel their language? That's a more challenging concept.
Speak with enough diversity that it justifies producing a rather substantial dictionary? Wow!!
Later in the month another of my favorite podcasts, Speaking of Faith, rebroadcast an episode called Whale Songs and Elephant Loves. In fact, it's an interview with another researcher in the Elephant Listening Project at Cornell University.
Katy Payne, author, researcher, and guest in this segment, made a statement that caught my fancy. She says she got interested in elephants because she "never grew up". She never lost the childlike wonder of the world around her, never got so stuck in "the way its supposed to be" trap that creates blinders in too many adults. When she felt rumblings around the elephant area that she did not feel in the rest of the zoo, she was open enough to explore these rumblings as a means of communication, and ultimately, a form of language.
Hearing is easy, assuming all our "hearing equipment" is working correctly. Listening takes work. It requires thoughtfully processing the sound we hear, whether nature sounds, urban sounds, music or another person's words. Sometimes it requires reading visual clues along with the words. The look in an eye, the expression on a face, movement of hands and body, all give clues to what the speakers is really saying. Am I getting the real message? Too often, I am not.
Listen -- really listen -- to someone's words today. Try to get beyond your own hopes, fears and mindset as you listen. What message is being sent?
Don't forget to pray.
Katy Payne, author, researcher, and guest in this segment, made a statement that caught my fancy. She says she got interested in elephants because she "never grew up". She never lost the childlike wonder of the world around her, never got so stuck in "the way its supposed to be" trap that creates blinders in too many adults. When she felt rumblings around the elephant area that she did not feel in the rest of the zoo, she was open enough to explore these rumblings as a means of communication, and ultimately, a form of language.
Hearing is easy, assuming all our "hearing equipment" is working correctly. Listening takes work. It requires thoughtfully processing the sound we hear, whether nature sounds, urban sounds, music or another person's words. Sometimes it requires reading visual clues along with the words. The look in an eye, the expression on a face, movement of hands and body, all give clues to what the speakers is really saying. Am I getting the real message? Too often, I am not.
Listen -- really listen -- to someone's words today. Try to get beyond your own hopes, fears and mindset as you listen. What message is being sent?
Don't forget to pray.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Pay it Forward
It's the last day of February. It's been four lonely years for my cousin and his children since his wife and their mother passed. It's a difficult day, but important that in our own sense of loss we focus on the good times shared. Remind me of that on Wednesday, when I face my own day of remembering.
So today remember Judy. Or someone you love who has passed out of your life. Give thanks for their life. Give thanks for the time you shared. Reach out. In memory of that person you love so deeply, touch another life. Pay it forward. In memory of ....
Don't forget to pray.
So today remember Judy. Or someone you love who has passed out of your life. Give thanks for their life. Give thanks for the time you shared. Reach out. In memory of that person you love so deeply, touch another life. Pay it forward. In memory of ....
Don't forget to pray.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
A Not-So-Small Victory
With her 96th birthday a 3 scant months away, my mother is clearly wearing out. Any task that requires walking even a block is nearly impossible. The current attack, gout, leaves her unable to even put a shoe on her left foot. Walk? 6', maybe, and that's only since the pain has begun to diminish after more than 2 weeks of agony. But her mind and spirit are still strong, and I know she doesn't appreciate being a prisoner in this little house for weeks on end. She misses her kitchen, misses working in her garden, misses shopping, thrift shopping, exploring the mall or the Art Academy or some other gallery or museum.
I have been pushing for a wheel chair, using the argument that it doesn't make sense to me not to use one when there are places she would love to go and someone ready and willing to push. Pride has gotten in her way.
Yesterday she gave in and paid a visit to her doctor, who immediately prescribed a gout medication and ordered a diagnosis confirming blood test. We borrowed a wheel chair from the Medical Group to get from the car up to the 4th floor and back.
Today she announced, "I still haven't made a decision, but if I don't think this pain is ever going to go away completely, I think we should go and buy a ...." She made a pushing motion.
"A walker with a seat?" I asked. Then it dawned on me. "Oh, a wheel chair!" She grinned sheepishly.
She was pleased that is is possible to purchase a slightly used wheel chair, one that has been used briefly as a rental. She was willing to consider my preferences for something light that I can comfortable get into and out of the trunk of the car. She didn't complain that I had obviously talked to the folks at my favorite medical supply house about a chair -- without talking to her.
"But we'll decide next week." She repeated.
Give thanks for those who are willing to put necessity before pride. Allow them the dignity they deserve.
Don't forget to pray ....
I have been pushing for a wheel chair, using the argument that it doesn't make sense to me not to use one when there are places she would love to go and someone ready and willing to push. Pride has gotten in her way.
Yesterday she gave in and paid a visit to her doctor, who immediately prescribed a gout medication and ordered a diagnosis confirming blood test. We borrowed a wheel chair from the Medical Group to get from the car up to the 4th floor and back.
Today she announced, "I still haven't made a decision, but if I don't think this pain is ever going to go away completely, I think we should go and buy a ...." She made a pushing motion.
"A walker with a seat?" I asked. Then it dawned on me. "Oh, a wheel chair!" She grinned sheepishly.
She was pleased that is is possible to purchase a slightly used wheel chair, one that has been used briefly as a rental. She was willing to consider my preferences for something light that I can comfortable get into and out of the trunk of the car. She didn't complain that I had obviously talked to the folks at my favorite medical supply house about a chair -- without talking to her.
"But we'll decide next week." She repeated.
Give thanks for those who are willing to put necessity before pride. Allow them the dignity they deserve.
Don't forget to pray ....
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Partially Built
Ray and I bought our share of those furniture pieces that come in a box and are assembled once you get home. The assembly task was usually mine, with extra hands from Ray when necessary. The only piece that completely defeated me was the barbecue. Thank goodness Larry showed up from Sacramento to become that day's Knight in Shining Armor.
I've been thinking for a year about something to put at the end of my dad's bed that could hold pretty things for him to look at -- flowers, Easter bunny, Christmas Tree. He has a bedside table, but when he is in bed he has to turn his head to see it. He doesn't do that very often. Last week I trudged down to City Mill (the Orchard Supply of Honolulu) and found -- on sale -- the perfect item: a narrow five-drawer chest, wood frame with rattan drawers that look like baskets sitting on shelves but actually work like drawers. Just like at Orchard Supply, store staff load the box into your vehicle.
My plan was to assemble the whole piece at home, separate the drawers from the frame, load the car, and carry the separate parts from the parking lot upstairs to the 3rd floor of Oahu Care Facility. But I was warned by the salesman: these pieces are not particularly stable. A road trip across the city will negatively impact structural integrity.
Once at home, I recognized that I was facing one of those situations this blog is all about. Always before I've had someone -- and a furniture dolly -- to unload the car and get the box to its assembly point. In Groveland, I have multiple power screw drivers. Not so in Honolulu.
Where to work? How to get the large box (which I cannot lift myself) from the car? A painters drop cloth and a bath sheet sized towel on the floor of the carport made an acceptable work surface. My mother's small tool box produced a pair of phillips screw drivers. Open box in car, remove and assemble the basket parts, leave two sides (resembling a pair of small ladders), a top and four crossbars for assembly at Oahu Care. Just unpacking and assembly of 5 baskets took the better part of 3 hours. Manual screw drivers take a lot more work than the power variety!
The next trick was finding a parking spot at Oahu Care with enough room to open at least one car door wide enough to remove all the chest parts. Ahhhh, there was one! Didn't have to park in the center aisle. Two baskets and clean laundry arrived at my dad's bedside. Arriving with the second load, found the call light on at my dad's room. He was trying to get out of bed to follow me downstairs. Thank goodness for bed alarms! One more trip and some help from one of the maintenance staff -- and all the parts were upstairs.
Laying out a towel on the floor and putting the instructions on the end of my dad's bed, I proclaimed, "Gentlemen, your entertainment for the afternoon!" Gotta make this light. Those two men each know more about the assembly process than I do, and both were awake and alert. OK. Two sides. Check. Four crossbars. Check. No, wait, the crossbars are designated E, F and G. Does that mean different bars for different places? Sure enough. E goes in the front. But where is front? Oh. Drawer stops are on the back right. Which little ladder has the drawer stops? That ladder becomes Right Side. Check. Peg crossbars into pukas in side pieces. Bigger round thing into matching puka on crossbar. Oh-oh. It is supposed to connect to something. It's that funny widget that looks like a cross between a screw and a molly bolt. This can't be right! How do I get that piece which clearly has to go east-west through north-south opening?
Sun-he (say soon-HEE), one of the CNA's arrived about that time, wondering what was being assembled. Fortunately, her mechanical skills are better than mine. "Take this off." she said, pulling out the pegged in crossbars. "This one go here." she added, deftly fitting one of the funny widgets into the side piece, long end out. "Now like this". She plugged the crossbar back into place, the funny widget now extending through it's own puka in the crossbar and into the puka designated for that bigger round thing. Round thing into puka, over funny widget. Quarter turn with screw driver in round thing, and voila! Fastened. "Now you do." she declared, leaving. I did.
Twenty minutes later the crossbars were in place, reinforcing angle brackets attached, and the top screwed to the base frame. Drawers had been added, and the job was done. My father was pleased. I am pleased. The CNA's will have to figure out where I hid my father's socks.
Give thanks for anyone who offers help today. Be gracious enough to accept it -- with a smile! Don't forget to pray ....
I've been thinking for a year about something to put at the end of my dad's bed that could hold pretty things for him to look at -- flowers, Easter bunny, Christmas Tree. He has a bedside table, but when he is in bed he has to turn his head to see it. He doesn't do that very often. Last week I trudged down to City Mill (the Orchard Supply of Honolulu) and found -- on sale -- the perfect item: a narrow five-drawer chest, wood frame with rattan drawers that look like baskets sitting on shelves but actually work like drawers. Just like at Orchard Supply, store staff load the box into your vehicle.
My plan was to assemble the whole piece at home, separate the drawers from the frame, load the car, and carry the separate parts from the parking lot upstairs to the 3rd floor of Oahu Care Facility. But I was warned by the salesman: these pieces are not particularly stable. A road trip across the city will negatively impact structural integrity.
Once at home, I recognized that I was facing one of those situations this blog is all about. Always before I've had someone -- and a furniture dolly -- to unload the car and get the box to its assembly point. In Groveland, I have multiple power screw drivers. Not so in Honolulu.
Where to work? How to get the large box (which I cannot lift myself) from the car? A painters drop cloth and a bath sheet sized towel on the floor of the carport made an acceptable work surface. My mother's small tool box produced a pair of phillips screw drivers. Open box in car, remove and assemble the basket parts, leave two sides (resembling a pair of small ladders), a top and four crossbars for assembly at Oahu Care. Just unpacking and assembly of 5 baskets took the better part of 3 hours. Manual screw drivers take a lot more work than the power variety!
The next trick was finding a parking spot at Oahu Care with enough room to open at least one car door wide enough to remove all the chest parts. Ahhhh, there was one! Didn't have to park in the center aisle. Two baskets and clean laundry arrived at my dad's bedside. Arriving with the second load, found the call light on at my dad's room. He was trying to get out of bed to follow me downstairs. Thank goodness for bed alarms! One more trip and some help from one of the maintenance staff -- and all the parts were upstairs.
Laying out a towel on the floor and putting the instructions on the end of my dad's bed, I proclaimed, "Gentlemen, your entertainment for the afternoon!" Gotta make this light. Those two men each know more about the assembly process than I do, and both were awake and alert. OK. Two sides. Check. Four crossbars. Check. No, wait, the crossbars are designated E, F and G. Does that mean different bars for different places? Sure enough. E goes in the front. But where is front? Oh. Drawer stops are on the back right. Which little ladder has the drawer stops? That ladder becomes Right Side. Check. Peg crossbars into pukas in side pieces. Bigger round thing into matching puka on crossbar. Oh-oh. It is supposed to connect to something. It's that funny widget that looks like a cross between a screw and a molly bolt. This can't be right! How do I get that piece which clearly has to go east-west through north-south opening?
Sun-he (say soon-HEE), one of the CNA's arrived about that time, wondering what was being assembled. Fortunately, her mechanical skills are better than mine. "Take this off." she said, pulling out the pegged in crossbars. "This one go here." she added, deftly fitting one of the funny widgets into the side piece, long end out. "Now like this". She plugged the crossbar back into place, the funny widget now extending through it's own puka in the crossbar and into the puka designated for that bigger round thing. Round thing into puka, over funny widget. Quarter turn with screw driver in round thing, and voila! Fastened. "Now you do." she declared, leaving. I did.
Twenty minutes later the crossbars were in place, reinforcing angle brackets attached, and the top screwed to the base frame. Drawers had been added, and the job was done. My father was pleased. I am pleased. The CNA's will have to figure out where I hid my father's socks.
Give thanks for anyone who offers help today. Be gracious enough to accept it -- with a smile! Don't forget to pray ....
Friday, February 12, 2010
It's only Funny if you Understand the Joke
None of the CNA's in the care facility where my dad is resident are native English speakers. Many are Filipino or Korean. A few are Vietnamese. Among the entire staff, there are only 3 haoles -- faces that would be familiar in most of the rest of America or Europe. A few are what Ray used to describe as "a brick short of a full load".
My dad's habit is to take off whatever trousers he has been wearing when he gets into bed, sleeping in the equivalent of his underwear and a t-shirt.
When the CNAs want him to do something in a hurry, I'm learning that they tell him, "Mr. Lin', hurry, your daughter is coming!"
So the other day one of the CNA's was trying to get him back into bed. He had other things on his mind. Apparently, it was one of his better days, a day that he could follow a conversation and make some rational decisions on his own.
"Hurry, Meester Lin', take off your pants. Get into bed. Your daw-ter is coming." the CNA urged. She repeated herself.
"You should have seen his face!" said the nurse who was sharing the story with me. "He stopped and looked at her. Then, slowly, he said, 'You want me to take off my pants and get in bed -- because my daughter is coming?'"
"Yes, Meester Lin', take off your pants. Your daughter is coming." The poor woman missed altogether the totally inappropriate implied sexuality of her request. My father didn't.
Give thanks that my dad can still appreciate the humor of a situation. Give thanks for those who care for him, even though they might not recognize that humor.
Don't forget to pray ....
My dad's habit is to take off whatever trousers he has been wearing when he gets into bed, sleeping in the equivalent of his underwear and a t-shirt.
When the CNAs want him to do something in a hurry, I'm learning that they tell him, "Mr. Lin', hurry, your daughter is coming!"
So the other day one of the CNA's was trying to get him back into bed. He had other things on his mind. Apparently, it was one of his better days, a day that he could follow a conversation and make some rational decisions on his own.
"Hurry, Meester Lin', take off your pants. Get into bed. Your daw-ter is coming." the CNA urged. She repeated herself.
"You should have seen his face!" said the nurse who was sharing the story with me. "He stopped and looked at her. Then, slowly, he said, 'You want me to take off my pants and get in bed -- because my daughter is coming?'"
"Yes, Meester Lin', take off your pants. Your daughter is coming." The poor woman missed altogether the totally inappropriate implied sexuality of her request. My father didn't.
Give thanks that my dad can still appreciate the humor of a situation. Give thanks for those who care for him, even though they might not recognize that humor.
Don't forget to pray ....
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