TheBanyanTree: Dear Companions

[Tom Smith]

August 20, Wednesday

Dear Banyan Tree Companions,

Sorry it's taken me so long to write..  I had to extend my stay in
Washington to help my mother move.  It has been a very intense
retirement so far.  I'm beginning to realize that part of that is
because *I* am intense.  I tend to be tense.  In tense.  Sometimes
lingering too much in the past-tense.

(Just at this point Barbara rushes in, stressed out and angry, like
I'm to blame for her internet connection going bad.)  Imperfect being
that I am, I curse some and yell back and request her not to talk to me
or mess with anything phone-connected while I try to find out what the
problem is.  15 min later I find the problem in a bad phone jack
connection and get her back on line.  

Mom calls from Washington.  She's having a good day and sounds
terrific. She went to her first out-patient session at the Geriatric
Psychiatric clinic.  She coped well with a foulup -they were supposed
to send a cab for her, and she waited an hour for one that never showed
up.  She called the referring hospital and they got it straighted out
and a cab arrived shortly.  A neighbor in her apartment complex, Alva,
a retired school teacher, knocks at the door, and Mom and I end our
telephone conversation.

Two minutes later Barbara says the Netscape browser can't find
anything,
so I have to call Tech Support, where I'm given a different access
number and the browser works again.  She's busy browsing now, but now
I'm tired..

Sometimes its really hard to write a letter..  


August 23, Saturday

Wow.. one thing I can't be too critical of my mother for these days is
her difficulty sometimes knowing what day it is..  When you're retired
it really is difficult to keep track. Everyday seems like Saturday,
except the stores are a lot less crowded when it happens to be a
Wednesday.


August 25, Monday

Trying to recall what happened between the last entry and now..  I
think
you've been in a similar situation.  Trying to get some play time and 
some kind of New Shit happens.  IT definitely happens..  The image I
have of this time is being buried.. moving immediate obstacles causing
more to fall.  That's the general feeling.  The specific obstacles,
(sometimes I call them "boggles") actually were the computer I was
writing the letter on going crazy, the screen turning into yellow
verticle lines with no keyboard response.  Time alloted for play run
out, time to go back to high priority stuff like getting a bed to sleep
in.  (Old airbed developed a blister, the new replacement wouldn't hold
air and the rechargeable airpump ran out of power).  And sometime in
there I got word that my mother had another fainting spell while
waiting
in a Sam's Club line..  Trying to coordinate and be helpful from 1500
miles away.  

I do not want this letter to be some kind of "stuff" dump.  It's just
that recently I've been in the middle of a lot of that "stuff."  I try
to find my retiree's outlook.. and come up with the idea that I'll put
off my stuff for tomorrow, and enjoy writing this letter.

Barbara and I have a lot more time together now that I'm retired.  That
just popped into my head as some kind of explanation..  and life is
definitely more complicated when you're responsible for fixing other
people's problems.  On the other side of the coin, a person can't feel 
too terrific knowing that they add to others' problems.  This is how my
mother feels.  She needs other peoples' help now more than ever. She
can't drive a car anymore and her vision is deteriorating along with
her
memory.  She feels like she is a burden, that life is a battle just
trying to stay alive and functioning and all she really wants to do is
go join Dad up on the cemetery hill.  

Getting her to want to live is like starting an argument.  My best
success was taking her to the Auburn Good Old Days Parade, seeing her
moved to tears by the marching bands and wanting to go again next year.

The greatest laugh I got from her was reading aloud a bumper sticker on
the car ahead: "Of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most." 
I did get her moved back where she has a terrific support system and
knows her way around.  I left her a lot happier than I found her.

One of the mental/emotional problems Mom has is trouble letting go of
things that upset her.  Welcome to the Club.  Boy, would I ever like to
learn that skill..  meditation seems to help develop that ability.  I
have trouble trying reconcile what is "letting go" with what is
"turning
your back" though.

Writing helps me both let go and work things out, but Mom didn't take
to
that practice too well.  I got her a fountain pen and she kept a diary
with it for a while.  She said that she thought her life was too boring
to write about, but when she read some of her diary to me she began
crying.  Later on she tore those pages out and threw them away.

I suddenly feel exhausted, but want to finish this letter and get it
out
to you.  I apologize for being so..  whatever this is.

I am determined to end on a positive note.  One particular scene comes
to mind.  I was at a large circular dining room table where dinner is
served every evening at Mom's retirement apartment complex.  I was
seated next to Mom when desert was served.  It was a fruit mix with
some
kind of cinnamon sauce.  I remarked about feeling like a king,
harvesting the results of so many people's art and care -the growers
who
watered the apple and cinnamon trees, the caretakers of the grapes and
raisins and peaches and the cooks who put it all together in my bowl,
artfully, to enjoy and obtain nourishment.  Mom giggled.

This weekend I am going to let the world's problems work themselves out
while I go get lost at a place called Lost Hills California, flying
small freeflight gliders at a big contest.  From there I'm going the 60
or so miles up to Visalia to visit my son Larry, with some miniature
radio control cars to dash about on a living-room slalom, and maybe
scare the cat.

Hugs... Tom


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