Windows

The thing I liked best about the house that Jim and I built was the windows. Looking out a window is a way to connect with the world outside while being all comfy inside.

I often sat in my living room and looked out the patio windows to the woods behind our house. I remember seeing birds and squirrels in the summer and on cold winter days.

From the kitchen, I could look across the yard and see the little house next door where my mother-in-law lived. Deer often came into the yard to browse for fruit on the ground.

Now, as I remember those days, I realize that I was blessed to have lived during that special time. Families didn’t just get together for holidays, weddings, and funerals. Life was filled with impromptu jam sessions or feasts, anytime, on any ordinary day.

A few days ago, I saw a photo of Uncle Johnny on Facebook. Immediately, I thought of the pitch games that we played at Virginia’s kitchen table. Uncle Johnny and I were partners trying to beat Jim and Aunt Nita. They were the wild and crazy bidders who would bid on each other’s hands.

Now that I think about it, I wonder whether they were not so much clairvoyant as they might have had a stealthy method of signaling each other. Either that, or playing cards was their superpower.

I lived alone in our house for fourteen years. During that time, I saw our yard go from being the gathering place for family to a quiet, lonely space. I would look at the empty patio and imagine the time when Jim, Billy, and his dad would play music there. Virginia would cook a big dinner and everyone would gather around in lawn chairs at the picnic table with plates of food. The coffee pot was on all the time.

I sit here today in the house that Harold built. We have huge windows in the kitchen on the west side, sunroom windows, a bay window, and windows in every room. I can see the sunrise in the office and watch glorious sunsets from the kitchen or sunroom windows.

Now, I’m looking out the office window to the first ground-covering snow of the year. I see our fence and an abandoned bird nest in the Japanese Maple tree. The snow continues to fall, but with some thawing, I hope I’m only housebound for one day.

The house is quiet except for the slight hum of the Synology and the blowing of the heat through the floor vents. I’ve never been one to turn on the TV or radio for background noise.

In the stillness, I struggle with thoughts of my changing world. I think of the song, “I Am Not Okay.” We all feel the weight of life’s burdens from time-to-time. Conversely, we all experience joy and times when all seems right with the world.

The main message from the song is not the part about not being okay, although that is what we latch onto in times of sorrow. The secret message is that even though “I’m not okay, everything is going to be all right.”

All we have to do is look through a window, feel the power of positivity, and muster the courage to trust in a Greater Power. Solace comes with the knowledge that everything will be all right someday.

 

Copyright © November by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ

Be Still My Mind

Some people have an ability to meditate and turn off their thoughts. My mind, on the other hand, just gets busier, the more I try to clear it.

I’ve always had an overactive mind and sometimes it is a challenge to figure out how to turn it off long enough to sleep. The more stressful my life is, the more active my brain.

Caregiving is a special kind of stress where worry is a thundercloud ready to send bolts of lightning crashing down into the caregiver’s soul. It’s hard not to lose the sense of self while focusing on another’s health needs. A mind numbing tiredness turns into exhaustion during the push to  be responsible for another human being.

I had this crazy idea that when I retired, my life would be calm and serene. With the stress of my job out of the picture, I looked forward to lounging around the house, going to the park to watch the squirrels, taking my dog for a long, leisurely walk, reading a book while sitting on the porch, and living the dream.

The thought that life would become a whirlwind of non-stop activity never crossed my mind until it dominated my mind. My mental to-do list always outdid the physical to-do list that I prepared to keep me on track.

The outside world has invaded my inside space. When I have a quiet moment drinking my first cup of coffee, the cell phone will ring, a text will ping, or an email demanding my attention shows up in the in box. The digital devices that are supposed to make life more efficient and easier can become the disruptive force that sends the day spinning out of control.

My phone is a conglomeration of appointments, reminders, and alarms. I have an uncanny ability to turn off an alarm and immediately become distracted with another thought clamoring for attention in my overactive mind. I’ve found this an excellent way to miss deadlines.

I’ve become a procrastinator extraordinaire. If something can be put off until tomorrow, I don’t have to do it today. Exhaustion sets in at unexpected times and a nap is required to reset my soul.   

The busy mind is especially troublesome when trying to go to sleep at bedtime. The only way to stop the “would have, should have” section of my mind is to mentally focus on one special thought. Reading helps me calm my mind because I focus on the book in front of me. I’ll read until I’m so sleepy that I can’t see the words and sometimes I can close my Kindle and immediately fall asleep.

During stressful times, setting the book aside sends my mind into overdrive. Sometimes I’ll try to remember the lyrics of a song, but lately, I found my best bet is to recite the Serenity Prayer until I go to sleep.

The prayer is magical, and exactly what my mind needs to put aside the worrisome thoughts that make sleep elusive: “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

 I repeat the prayer until I fall asleep. The prayer is my way of saying, “Be still, my mind.”

Copyright © November by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ 

Veterans Day, Some Gave All

 

Last night, my sleep was disturbed by voices. I was beginning to think that I had gone completely bonkers, but couldn’t understand what the voices were saying. At least I wasn’t obeying odd voices in my head.

The voices stopped and I heard the national anthem. The music of the Star Spangled Banner brought me out of my sleep. No, it wasn’t internal, so I got out of bed to investigate.

I checked the TV in the office, the TV in the living room, and the radio in the kitchen.  All were silent. I returned to the bedroom and noticed that the sound bar on the top of the TV was lit up. Yes, that was the origin of the music. I fumbled in the drawer for the remote and hit the power button. Then, it occurred to me—welcome to Veterans Day 2024.

Veterans Day was special for Jim and me. Our Colorado trips were in the summer, and for several years, we went to Branson during Veterans Week. Branson honors veterans and makes them feel welcome. Jim wore his “Vietnam Veteran and Proud of It” cap, his denim jacket, and 501 Levis.

Vietnam was an albatross hanging around his service-injured neck. As his short-term memory waned, Vietnam seemed more recent and his PTSD kicked in more often. As the disease progressed, Jim accepted that he could be proud of being a veteran. 

While in Branson, we liked to ride on the Branson Belle and go to the 76 Music Hall to see Tom Brumley, one of Jim’s favorites. At the Music Hall, we registered Jim and collected his Veterans Week nametag. Jim’s badge would be pinned, taped, or whatever it took to make it last until the next year. I removed last year’s battered nametag and replaced it with the new one. We browsed the veteran’s paraphernalia and purchased a new “Army” pin so Jim could add it to the collection on his denim jacket.

Our last morning in Branson in 1999, we boarded the Branson Belle. During intermission, Jim and I climbed the stairs and walked out onto the deck to enjoy the mild November day. We stood at the railing and the movement of the riverboat whipped a fish scented breeze into our faces.

Jim’s Levi jacket was buttoned to the top button and had so many pins on it that he looked like a street vendor advertising his wares. His nametag proclaimed who he was, and in essence, pronounced him a survivor of the Vietnam War. His cap shaded his face, the dark sunglasses and cane, gave a false impression that he was blind. Regardless of his eccentric garb, Jim was a handsome guy with blond hair, broad shoulders, and a cleft chin.

Branson shows often include several patriotic songs at any time of the year, but especially during Veterans Week. At every show, veterans were asked to stand and be recognized.

The song that always broke my heart was, “Some Gave All.” The phrase “All gave some and some gave all,” the “all” usually refers to those who lost their lives, but when I looked at Jim, I thought that he gave “all.”

Vietnam forever changed Jim. I believe between the physical injury to his neck, PTSD, and Agent Orange, contributed to his depression and ultimately his dementia. Of course, the VA never agreed with that assessment. We couldn’t even prove PTSD to their satisfaction even though they provided psychiatric care at one time.

Jim was a Vietnam veteran, and I’m proud of him for serving his country, but I wish that his country had served him in his time of need. With my work insurance, Jim stopped going to the VA because he said he got a “hell of a lot more respect” from civilian doctors.

I believe the VA is better now than it was then, and they are more supportive of veterans. I have family that use the VA by choice and receive excellent care. If nothing else, we can be proud that finally veterans of all conflicts, popular or unpopular, have the respect they deserve.

My day started with the “Star Spangled Banner” and my heart goes to a moment in 2001 when Jim was in the nursing home, silent, and mostly immersed into an inner place that was hard to reach.

A flag made with cutouts of children’s hands had been hanging on the wall since a few weeks after the September 11 tragedy. One evening,  I noticed Jim had stopped in front of the flag and tipped his cap. I thought maybe he was adjusting it, but a few days later, he stopped in front of the flag and saluted it.

Veterans are soldiers for life. 

 

Copyright © November by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ

Fright Night—What Spooks Us?

The ghosts and goblins of All Hallows’ Eve are lurking in the dark ready to jump out from behind that old dead tree to send shivers of fright down our spines. Since we associate Halloween with scary beings that go bump in the night, it is a good time to talk about what frightens us.

The scene is set for me to talk about the things that scare us. As I sit in my office working on this article, the wind howls around the corner of the house and branches scrape against the window. In fact, the unusual sounds are downright creepy.

Although some of the surveys show slightly different results, I’m going to hone in on ten common fears.

Things that go BOOM in the night.  A lot of folks are scared of storms. Thunder and lightning can shake up the best of us. Throw in a tornado warning complete with a heart-stopping siren, and you can create panic. I used to be terrified of storms, but somewhere along the line, I just learned to respect them and find a safe spot if possible.

Dark and Stormy Nights. No wonder the cliché for the beginning of a story is “It was a dark and stormy night.” Two fears rolled into one. The dark is the most common fear of children. I think that’s because when its dark, you can’t see the monsters in the closet. And you can’t go trick or treating until after dark…

Creepy Crawlers. Let’s face it. Spiders are mean little critters that can give you the kiss of death before you can say “Granddaddy Longlegs.” They all scare me…black widows, tarantulas, or brown recluse…and the only good spider is one that I see first because it will become a ghost spider.

Slithering Sneaky Snakes.  I never saw a snake that I liked. A few weeks ago, I was at a wedding rehearsal dinner where Sedalia’s own “Snake Lady” dressed up as a witch and brought one of her pet snakes in a caldron. Fortunately, I was sitting at the back of the room. Needless to say, I wasn’t one of the people who let the snake slither around my arms.

Crash and burn.  If you are afraid of flying, you have lots of company. As many as twenty-five million people are nervous flyers. I don’t think they are so much afraid of flying as they are of crashing.

Hitchcock’s Vertigo. I have a love/hate relationship with heights. I love looking at scenery far below, but I can freak out if I get too close to a canyon. The spinning sensation makes me feel that I’m just going to topple over the edge, plunging to my death far below.

Hell Hounds. I’ve never really been scared of dogs in general, but I’ve had a couple of close encounters. One time I was handing out some literature door-to-door for a local organization. At one house, I knocked, but no one was home. As I started back to the car, a German shepherd wedged himself between me and the car. I talked really nice to the dog as I slowly backed around him, never turning my back. “Nice doggy. Aren’t you a pretty boy? Are you having a good day, little doggie?”

Coffin Claustrophobia. Nobody likes to feel like they are in a tight spot where the air is hard to breathe. I’ve known fearless men who would climb a high wire or chase storms, but put them on an elevator and their knees begin to knock.

Evil Drilling Dentist. Some people treat the dentist like he’s Dr. Frankenstein and they expect him to drill right through a tooth and into their brain while laughing manically.

Mice and Rats. Yep. Rats are pretty scary if they wind up in bed with you. That happened to me while staying at a very nice resort in Mexico. It was not one of my more restful nights, for sure. But still, better a rat touching my hair than a ghost.

I don’t know why, but ghosts didn’t make the list. I’ve had a few experiences in my life that could be classified as supernatural. I’ll save those stories for another time. In the meantime, I’ll wish you a spooky, spine-chilling Halloween.

Copyright © October 2024 by L.S. Fisher originally published October 2014

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ 

Some Assembly Required

We recently bought a handicap step stool with a grab bar from Amazon. The item listed “some assembly required.” I would consider that a warning label, but my husband saw it only as an inconvenience.

The day the package arrived, he wanted to put the pieces together. Being a typical man, he threw the instructions aside and began assembling the step stool. After working on it for a while, we hit a snag when we couldn’t, metaphorically speaking, get the square peg through the round hole.

A few days later, we looked at it again. I started trying to decipher the instructions, and realized that the part that was assembled was put together wrong. We took all the pieces apart and methodically followed the step-by-step instructions and successfully assembled the step stool.

“You know what this reminded me of?” I asked Harold.

“When you and Jim put the tent together?” he asked.

“Exactly!” I must have relayed that story during a similar situation.

 

“Colorado” excerpt from Indelible, unfinished memoir:

 

In retrospect, I could measure the progression of Jim’s dementia by our annual trips to Colorado. In 1995, putting up the tent was a fiasco.

“This is the way it goes together,” Jim said picking up a pole from the pile of different length rods. We tried slipping the rods into the canvas only to find our final creation was not a tent.

“Okay, now are you ready for me to dig out the instructions?” I asked with as much patience as I could muster.

“I guess so,” he said grudgingly. Between the two of us, we managed to slide out the rods.

Even with directions, it was hard to figure out what went where.

“That’s not right,” Jim insisted.

“Humor me.” I huffed and puffed in the thin mountain air as I struggled with the poles.

After a lot of stress, strain, and cuss words, our home away from home looked like a tent.

 “Let’s get the equipment out of the van,” I said.

Finally, camp was set up to our liking, and we relaxed in our lawn chairs. Jim had always been the official camp cook, and I really didn’t know how the stove worked. I watched him and offered assistance when he couldn’t quite get things right. That year, I helped with meal preparation.  Overall, the problems weren’t too bad and it didn’t discourage us.

The next year, we used the tent for the last time. We had so much trouble setting up the tent that I thought we weren’t going to get it done at all. Cooking on the camp stove was too much of a challenge for Jim, so we stocked up on picnic supplies or ate in Estes Park.

As hard as “some assembly required” is, when we follow instructions, we can save ourselves unnecessary stress. Life with a loved one who has dementia does not have step-by-step instructions. We cope by learning all we can about Alzheimer’s, but at times, we have to rely on our seat-of-the-pants skills.

In the real world, each person with dementia is a unique person and may not have the same characteristics as the textbook example. In addition, each care partner has a different level of skill, patience, and perseverance.

Building our caregiver skills can feel as if we are reading instructions in a foreign language. Sometimes we need to pause, take another look, and start all over. Each day is a new day, and a caregiver can build on personal experiences and proven best practices.

My goal was never to be the best caregiver in the world; it was to be the best caregiver I could be. Sometimes, I was discouraged. Sometimes, I was disappointed in myself. But most of all, when Jim was fed, clean, and comfortable, I was satisfied that I had done my best.

 

Copyright © October 2024 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

Turn, Turn, Turn

 

On a Walmart run in late summer, I was almost overwhelmed by the sight of Halloween decorations, costumes, and shelves upon shelves of candy. Then, on my way to the pharmacy, I spied Christmas Decorations. According to Ecclesiastes, “To every thing there is a season…” To be blunt, summer is not the season for Christmas.

So the song, “Turn, Turn, Turn” swirled through my thoughts. Pete Seeger composed the song in 1959 almost verbatim from the wisdom found in Ecclesiastes 3:1-8. Seeger said these were the most important words he had ever latched on to, and that the melody leaps the barriers of language, politics, and religion.

We all know religions that seem to place high importance on a particular part of the Bible, and that section serves as the centerpiece of their beliefs. Thanks to the song, “Turn, Turn, Turn” people worldwide heard about the verses that describe the ebb and flow of life. Although the terms seem contradictory, often life itself is paradoxical.

Each year we have four seasons, and sometimes those seasons are applied to life: Spring is thought of as the beginning of life. Summer represents our youth. Autumn can be compared to adulthood beginning with brilliant colors and fading away in time. Winter, well, we all know winter is the last season. But true to the circle of life, winter is followed by the new birth of Springtime.

Whether we learned of the many seasons of life from the Bible or the song, apparently, life is full of contradictions and yet there is a purpose for everything under heaven.

The bookends of life are birth and death. Between birth and death, everything changes or turns. To nourish our bodies we plant food and harvest it. At one time, the only way to put meat on the table was to kill, but animals used for food needed to be healthy.

Physically and mentally, we may have to tear down that which is no longer useful and build a better version. Emotionally, we know that life is filled with laughter and tears. Sometimes we mourn our losses and other times we dance for joy.

Life is a cycle of gathering earthly treasures, but knowing that we can lose them in a heartbeat. We all know that a time will come when we seriously have to know what to keep and what we need to throw away.

 In relationships, we learn when to embrace and when to keep our distance. We learn the fine art of knowing when to speak and when to keep silent. Love and hate are closer emotions than most of us would ever want to admit. Some relationships need to be mended, while others cannot be salvaged and are torn asunder.

Our lives involve many struggles as we deal with our personal health problems or those affecting  people we love, or both. As we age, we may need a caregiver or may be a caregiver. Another paradox is that being a caregiver can be detrimental to our health, or it may be our incentive to keep moving even when we don’t feel like it.

No matter how bad the situation, we can look around and find someone who is worse off than we are. We see devastation from natural disasters where shell-shocked people will feel fortunate to be alive.

War wreaks havoc on innocent and guilty alike, yet the Bible says that there is a time for war. There is also a time for peace. I agree with the line Pete Seeger added, “I swear it’s not too late.”

 Copyright © September 2024 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ #Walk2EndAlz

Tend to Your Own Heart

I was reading an article about resolving conflict and among all the scenarios and advice, the words that slipped off the page and into my brain were “tend to your own heart.” The words kept bouncing around like a mantra until I decided to explore the words mentally.

We are faced daily with contentious opinions on every subject imaginable. Of course, this close to an election, it is easy to find an argument without even looking. The entire political climate is volatile with strong words erupting from all directions.

 Insults and shouting is not going to change anyone’s mind whose opinion is set in stone. Apparently, reality is based on personal opinion and cherry-picked facts or pseudo facts. Two sides to every story has turned into an octagon with two being opposing opinions and the other six being conspiracy theories.

The only way to inner peace is to tend to your own heart. When you know your opinions rest easy in your soul, you are on the right track.

During many times and situations throughout life, it is important to tend to your own heart. A caregiver must tend to his or her own heart on a daily basis. If you immerse your entire being into tending to the wants and needs of another, you risk not only losing your own health, but also your sense of self.

A conscientious caregiver wants to be the best care partner possible, but to take care of another, you must also take care of yourself. No one can be on duty twenty-four hours a day and stay healthy. A must for a caregiver is respite—a time for relaxation and relief from the overwhelming responsibility of becoming a lifeline for another human.

 Another time to tend to your own heart is when you have lost a loved one. During a recent conversation with my son, we agreed that my sister-in-law, his aunt, died from a broken heart. When the love of her life passed away, she lost the will to live.

Within the past week, I personally know two people who lost their beloved spouses. I really believe that both of them will tend to their own hearts and embrace a changed world. It isn’t necessary to stop loving someone you lost, but important to keep on loving your family and friends who are still living. Grief doesn’t go away, but it becomes manageable when you focus on the future while cherishing your memories.

The happiest people are the ones who have confidence they can deal with any situation life throws at them. A positive attitude allows you to move forward no matter what adversity you face in life. Tending to your own heart will make you a stronger, happier person.

Copyright © September 2024 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ #Walk2EndAlz

Why I Walk

I walk for Jim. I think I loved him from the first day we met. I felt as if I had found the other half of my soul.

It was by chance that Jim was in Missouri since he spent most of his growing up years in the Northwest. Jim loved to travel, and we often went to Oregon to visit his relatives and childhood places. Later, we went to Estes Park and the Rocky Mountains annually.

Jim was a talented musician who loved to play his Fender guitar and sing country songs. I remember one time I videotaped him with our gigantic video camera singing “Colorado” while chipmunks and tourists stopped everything to soak up the sunshine, clear mountain air, and melody.

Jim’s life was cut short when he developed dementia at forty-nine. He passed away in 2005 after ten years living with a disease that robbed him of his talents, sense of humor, and insightful conversation.

Jim lives in my memories and dreams, and I know he is not forgotten by his family and friends. We need to stop this disease before more families go through the pain and loss of Alzheimer’s disease and other dementia.

More than 600 walks are held across the country. If you cannot come to Sedalia, join a walk near your hometown. Walk for Jim. Walk for your loved ones. Walk for the more than seven million people living with Alzheimer’s and the eleven million unpaid caregivers.

This year for the 27^th time, Jim’s Team will walk for a different future.

 

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Click Jim’s Team to join or donate

Link to the Sedalia Walk alz.org/sedaliawalk

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 Photo courtesy of Kevin Walker 2023 Sedalia Walk to End Alzheimer's

Copyright © September 2024 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ #Walk2EndAlz

Old School

 

I’ve not been able to work out of my office downstairs because the wifi won’t reach it. Although a portion of the work I do doesn’t require wifi, it comes in handy for reference. Recently, I moved into Harold’s old office, and he set up shop at a worktable in the bedroom.

Harold has occupied this office since the house was built, and it has various computers, equipment galore, shelves upon shelves of computer books, a full file cabinet, two TVs, a multitude of CDs, and various items too numerous to mention.

I’ve begun trying to carve out a usable workspace. Not knowing where to start, I began on the wire shelves. I soon realized that that was a humongous job, so I looked at the bookshelf. I know I’m going to have to work really hard to get Harold to let go of his program manuals that line almost every shelf of the bookcase and several of the wire shelves.

Then, I noticed his old college textbooks were on the bottom shelf. With full confidence that he wouldn’t want to browse a book on physics, chemistry, graphics (about actual graphs!), analytic geometry, programming in Fortran IV, and a dozen other equally boring subjects. Much to my delight, he said I could pitch them.

Nothing speaks old school like outdated textbooks or outdated equipment. Although we, like most other people, disconnected our house phone, but one of us wouldn’t pitch all the old phones and phone equipment. I found an old address book that had a sliding alphabet. It took me a few minutes to figure out how to pop it open. I’m sure there wasn’t an address or phone number less than 30 years old.

When we look into boxes that have been packed away, we find “old school” outdated items, but we can also uncover treasures. I recently went through a box we found in the shop at the rental house. I found a comic book from the 60s, two old cameras still in the boxes, letters from Burma during WWII, postcards from all over the US, and a variety of other memorabilia. The best find, as far as I’m concerned, was a pilsner beer glass that has become my go-to water glass.

Throughout life, many of us have an abundance of old school treasures that others can easily identify as junk. I’ve always been a packrat, but Jim was a minimalist at heart. I believe that moving around a lot as a kid, he learned to choose what was important enough to move with him.

Jim’s idea of getting rid of excess baggage has been known to get him into trouble, especially with me. When we moved from a two-story farmhouse to a mobile home, Jim was heartless in selling our furniture to a second-hand store.

We moved only the furniture and belongings that would fit into the mobile home and a small storage shed. Over time, the shed leaked and ruined some of the items stored in it. One day, while I was at work, Jim enlisted the help of my sister-in-law to help him clean out the shed. They discarded the wet, mildewed objects and put aside the undamaged ones. As payment, Jim gave her my good set of dishes. I was furious, but he pointed out that we never used them and the plates were too flat. I couldn’t argue with that kind of logic.

So often it’s out of sight, out of mind. We find ourselves burdened with unusable junk that either sentiment or indecision keeps us from discarding.

If only the clutter of life itself was as easy to discard as old textbooks, life would be simpler. Instead, we cling to our burdens and worries until we are drowning in them. If we can convince ourselves to let go and look to the future with hope and optimism, we find the life preservers that will keep us from drowning in despair.

Life is more complex now. The tools that were meant to make life easier often make our lives more challenging. In our wildest dreams, we never envisioned a world where cell phones and social media meant we would be constantly in contact with the world.

Old school carries a sense of nostalgia. Our past is what makes us what we are today. We remember the world before Google gave us instant answers to all our questions, and we marveled at life’s mysteries. We’ve gained instant gratification, but we’ve lost the magic of using our imaginations and God-given talent to ponder the endless possibilities.

Copyright © August 2024 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ

Birthday Thoughts

One thing I know, unequivocally, is that life is not fair. If life were fair, today would have been Jim’s 79^th birthday. Instead, of “live long and prosper,” dementia took him down in April 2005.

Jim grew up traveling the highways and byways between Missouri and Oregon with various detours along the way. He lived in rickety rental houses, as well as under trees and bridges. Still, he had a happy, adventurous childhood.

The one thing about Jim’s family that I understood clearly was that sometimes they did not have a house to live in, but they were not homeless. Some people say that church is not a building, but cannot accept that home is not always a house.

I remember a trip to Oregon when we drove around with Jim’s brother Bob. He would point at a huge tree and say, “We lived under that tree.” And who could forget the story of the bridge they lived under in Texas. A man in a fancy car brought them groceries. Later when he became president, they recognized Lyndon Johnson.

When we traveled through Oregon, Idaho, and Utah, Jim would point out what he called his “old stomping grounds.” We drove by a house in Silverton where the Fisher family lived for quite awhile. Jim had often talked about the weeping willow tree, and it still stood in the front yard.

Another thing I know is that life is serendipitous. My Mom and Dad went to town once a week to stock up on groceries. It takes a lot of groceries to feed eight kids. Sometimes I went with them and sometimes I stayed home. One week, Mom and I were in the Dew Drop Inn having a hamburger when a man that my mom knew sat down at our table to visit. His name was Kenneth Fisher.

The next week on our grocery run, I ran into Kenneth again, and he said, “Linda, I have someone I want you to meet.” He proceeded to introduce me to his son and nephew. The nephew was Jim and Kenneth became “Uncle Orvie” to me.

Life can sometimes be a smooth, boring highway, and other times a treacherous mountain pass crammed with hairpin curves and no guardrails. Undoubtedly, the terrain of life can transition from one extreme to another in a heartbeat. Either way, there’s no going back for do-overs. The pathway ahead has to be navigated with planning, skill, and luck.

Jim and I had a rough road in the beginning, followed by several mundane years without life being such a struggle. Then, we spent the final ten years careening the hairpin curves, and hanging onto as much normalcy as we could. Through it all, our love never wavered.

Life is a series of destinations. We move through childhood, thinking we want to be adults. After we become adults, we hope to find our dream job, someone to love, and a happy, healthy family. As we grow older, we launch our kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids along life’s journey.

Our final earthly destination is death. Jim’s came when he was 59 years old after ten harrowing years of cognitive decline. His time here on earth came to an end, but he left an indelible mark in our hearts and memories.

Since I met Jim on that summer day in 1968, not a single day has gone by that I haven’t thought of him. Sometimes in quiet moments, I can feel his loving presence, and I know he is just a heartbeat or a breath away.

Yes, today, Jim would have been 79 years old if he was still on earth, but instead he is ageless.    

To Register or to Donate to the Sedalia Walk: alz.org/sedaliawalk  (our team is Jim's Team) 

Copyright © August 2024 by L.S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ