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