not-so-sticky

For many years, I mocked my father for the trail of enigmatic notes that littered our home. They never made much sense to me so it was easy for me to poke fun at them. But the older I become, the more I appreciate how genius this truly was. His notes were obviously a part of his master plan to overcome his memory loss. Written in his own hand, he was not required to rely on his degrading memory. He would remember anything - and everything - by writing a note about it which he could simply refer to later. Who needs a memory with a trail of documentation? I think this one may be my favorite - a typical Bob Brown grocery list. Guinness Stout and Scotch tape. He wrote this one shortly after he moved in with us - hence, our address on it as well. Dad used to walk up to Rite Aide in Cambridge every day, when he was still able, and alternately purchase rubber bands, paper clips, and scotch tape. A cashier told me this one day when I was with him, and Barbara confirmed he had an ever-growing c...

It was pure laziness that I brought 2 rolls of black and white 35 mm film to Walgreens for processing. I had Dad, Lil, and Liam in tow and didn't feel ambitious enough to go to the Artcraft , which is sad since this store is walking distance from Walgreens... I could have waited altogether...but I had been holding onto these two film canisters for a few weeks now. They had made several journeys back and forth in my laptop bag to USR and around again and I was afraid if I didn't drop them off soon, they'd end up lost entirely. And I have good reasons to support this fear. In the last 24 hours, I have misplaced both my digital camera and my cell phone. In the past month, I have misplaced both of these items countless times - along with my ATM card, my wallet, and my keys. Last night, I pulled the cushions off the couch. I found many odd things, but none of these things were either the camera or the phone. Lil was standing by, excitedly announcing each 'find'. I unco...

A friend of mine (not Kyrce) recently left her laptop at work and had to go back to work to fetch it. She was ashamed she had forgotten this, though she shouldn't have been. Only a couple of weeks earlier , she was also the same person who reminded me that I was 'human' not 'stupid' when I sought help from her with my head hanging low when I had forgotten to track time against all of the projects I'd been working by the deadline. Nor did forgetting the laptop actually surprise me, either. I know several who have done the same thing (though it's usually the other way around); I think this happens far more frequently than one would realize. I don't think there is any shame in this, although I completely understand the frustration she must have felt - particularly so since she didn't remember until she had already made the hour commute and had to promptly turn around to do it all over again. In the super, fast-paced lives we have created for ourselves, ...

Even now, Dad tries to hide the issues with his memory. It's embarrassing to him and I think it was for a long time before anyone could identify a 'problem' with Dad. In some ways, Dad is still very clever so it's hard to tell when he's kidding and when he isn't. And I think because of this, I am uncertain the problems with Dad's memory really began. A couple of Friday afternoons ago, Kyrce and I wandered Uptown to Hudson Coffee Traders with Dad to meet an old friend of ours we hadn't seen in a year. No one was around to keep an eye on Dad so I decided to bring him with me. I thought he might enjoy tagging along and getting out of the house for a bit. Dad was truly in rare form on this afternoon. I don't think any of us could get a sentence out without Dad interrupting. When I asked him to please not interrupt, he insisted that if he didn't interrupt, we'd never let him get a sentence in! Disgusted with us trying to quiet him, he decided he...

Getting Dad anywhere in the car is not easy. So, I was happy to get an invitation from Aunt Babs to a family gathering in nearby Livingston. It wouldn't be too far - about 40 minutes. Typically, even 40 minutes would be far for Dad but I thought it'd be worth it for him to be surrounded by all the familiar faces he conjures up so often, especially his brother, Leo. Dad would be comforted by this since he spends much of his time gripped by fear, confused because he doesn't know who people are or where he is. Even though there isn't much left that is tangible to the Columbia County Dad remembers, the desire to get there is as strong as if there was. Throughout the day as habit, Dad typically seeks "a ride back to Columbia County". So today would be a bit easier than usual to get him into the car. [Exhibit A: children not properly attended causing mischief.] We spent most of the morning getting ready. It takes small milestones throughout the morning to make it ...

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 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 went for a car ride for no reason other than to ride around. More often than not, playing the car radio was not permitted. Looking backwards, I suspect now that he found it distracting, although as a teenager, I would have sworn it was an act of control! Sometimes he would reminisce about how different things had looked when he was a kid, how the strip mall had once been farmland, how unfamiliar it could still seem. Other times, we said nothing at all, and drove on in the silence. Interrupting our shared silence, he would hum the beginning bars of Don McClean's  Starry, Starry Night   which at the time I didn't recognize as an...

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...

It was a bit chilly in the living room. Drafty, you might say. I gave Dad a sweater. "Hey Dana," I called as he passed by the living room entrance. "The window isn't shut up at the top. Could you fix it?" Dana scrunched up his face as he looked up at the window. "Huh, that's weird," he said. He looked puzzled. The window was about open, about 5 inches down from the top. I didn't volunteer any information. Dana often makes fun of my lack of memory. I feel like he sometimes uses this as his only weapon against me when we're each trying to win a fight. As if anyone ever 'wins,' a fight... Since he knows that my memory is poor, he can pretty make up just about anything and say that I said or did that because he knows that I can't be certain. Of course, if I really am forgetting everything, then I'm just being paranoid! But if I'm really not forgetting anything and Dana is trying to trick me, I don't want t...

Last night, Dana and I came down after everyone was tucked in upstairs. I was getting something to drink when Dana remarked that I ought to pay more attention when Dad is taking his medication before bed. There was a small yellow pill placed directly on the center of the stove top. What a sneak! How did I miss that? I had been especially careful to watch him when he took his medicine earlier that evening, because lately I had noticed that he would miss one. With kids in the house, this is particularly dangerous. I needed to be more careful to make sure he was taking all of his medicine. Dana was right (this time...) Like tonight, it wasn't noticed until after Dad was sleeping in his bed. And waking Dad up when he's sleeping is just plain stupid...especially since he takes this pill to help him sleep. Dad! Wake up! You have to take your sleeping pill! Dana headed back upstairs and I picked up the pill to put it back in its container. However, after opening the bottle and droppi...

I have little scraps of paper accumulating of random, half-baked ideas for my blog. Notes without a structure that won't make sense to me in a year if I don't actually write about them now. It's interesting to find these notes because it's a habit I've had for years and although I don't have a large collection of these scraps, I do have about seven or eight journals full of random notes to myself. At times, I have intentionally obfuscated the backdrop of my notes to keep some sense of personal sanctity if they were ever read by someone other than me. Unfortunately, my memory is so cruddy that these elusive notes often confuse me now, too. Who was the person who kept these journals? What did all of it mean? I've experienced moments of humility while reading my old journals. I was so very young. I find them embarrassing almost. I had a great idea last night before settling into bed. Unfortunately, I have already forgotten what it was. But I tried to capture it...

Yesterday I woke up, ate some meals, did some chores, wrangled the children, developed a head cold, fell asleep. That's about it. Not anything particularly interesting, although I'm sure Lily or Liam did something cute, or Dad said something funny... If you asked me next week, I could probably tell you some general details, not because I actually recall anything, but because it's the same thing I do day in and day out. A couple of days ago, I was in the bathroom with my daughter, Lily. She was still playing around in the shower, and I was peeking at myself in the mirror so that I could only see my eyes. I shrank down, and made it so I could only see my eyes in the mirror, and from that perspective, I was happy to find, I resembled the person stage I had been 10 years earlier. Not that this was the best part of the moment. The best part of the moment was, as I was inspecting my reflection in the mirror, my daughter started belting out this great Dan Zanes song she likes, ...