Friday, December 7, 2007

andrew 15

durn it all

Yesterday was court date.

Two older daughters came down from Washington and Oregon to go with me and the lawyers to a small court room.

It was all over in a few minutes. Mostly the judge repeated boiler plate lines that judges have to say. There was a question or two and a reminder to me to file a report each December, and it was over.

Now, we have guardianship of Miriam.

I should be proud, we have her on drugs to make her easier to get along with (how many husbands or wives wish they could pull that magic trick), and now I have taken some of her rights as a human being, the right to sign contracts etc.

But I am humbled by it all, and a bit wistful of the old days. Now I have really durable power of attorney, that cannot be revoked except by the judge, hmm.

My children tell me that this is the right thing to do and the lawyers agree that it is, so I am to be convinced, I guess.

At least I did get a stack of papers to send to insurance companies, etc, telling them in words they understand that they have to deal with me from here on out.

Durn it all, durn it all.

tiny house brisbane ca

small

I guess we are a couple generations too late.

We heat out house with a wood burning stove.

We have a garden, an orchard, and we can and freeze food from both.

Our house is a bit smaller than some 3 car garages that go with “modern” houses.

And we even drive cars made in the United States.

I don’t want to knock big houses, it’s just that I admire well designed small packages: Ipods, MacBooks, BMW roadsters.

In SF recently, I was reminded of my love of these small houses. Small houses just aren’t being built out here in the grand west, but those old communities where a lot might be 30 by 50 and an equally small house grew on the site.

Some of these little homes have evolved, the epochs are obvious, the stretch marks show up easily. Others are done with great flair and élan.

In a town where a starter house can cost ⅔ to ¾ of a mil, I guess small is essential.

I designed and built our house 31 years ago. At the time it was considered adequate, now it might be quaint, or cute (which means tiny). At this point it is even a bit larger than we might actually need: Miriam and I, along with Leo and cousin Alz.

Thursday, December 6, 2007

do a favor

Yesterday Nancy posted a piece about the dumb things people say to her, and her anger about some of them.

I want to continue a bit that direction!

Miriam and I have a friend I’ll call Louise. She is a consummate good person, seeking out people she can help, doing too much every where she goes and being just a little too eager along the way.

But she is a good person, and you cannot help but like her.

Yesterday she called. “How is Miriam doing?” That sort of thing. She was sincere in her questions, I have no doubt. “When are you going to move?” was another question we jostled with.

Then, came the point of the call.

“I have a favor to ask of you.” I have a pickup and I do a lot of repair around the church, so often favors are related to that. This time it was different. Louise sells vacuum cleaners in her “spare” time and she needed to demonstrate one of the infernal things so another friend could get points for something they don’t need either. Is that complex enough?

She told me how I didn’t have to buy from her (I can’t and won’t), but that she just needed to polish her skills etc. (Our floors are all ceramic tile, we’ll see how the demo goes!)

I told her that I considered vacuum salesmen and amway dealers in the same way and that I had little use for either, but that I would agree to letting her do her demo (she can’t bug me again, I figure), but that this would use up a LOT of friendship points, maybe most of the pile.

So, I am going to sit through a 1 or 2 hour demo of a machine I don’t want, can’t afford so Jerry can get a gizmo he won’t use.

The whole thing is nuts. I’ll sit in my recliner, but I can’t go to sleep.

Drats.

Tuesday, December 4, 2007

miriam at 5

four davids

The 4 David’s.

I have three good friends whose names are David. We go to church together, we sit in bible classes together, we are on boards and committees together, we even do volunteer work together at times, but rarely all 4 at any one time. And, to make it more interesting, my oldest grandson is David!

I could write a lot about each of them; one a former pastor and now a book editor; one an engineer who used to manage projects for the Army; another former pastor and now an adventurer who drove his jeep to Nicaragua this fall, and me.

This summer I spent 4 months doing the lead work on a serious remodel of the front of our church. At one point or other all Davids worked on that project. One day our pastor stood up in church: “If your name is David, you worked on the church this week,” he chuckled.

The pastor/editor is quiet, and studious. A serious scholar. He is also the youngest of this batch of davids, in his mid 50’s, but he worked his way through seminary laying carpet. He is a good guy.

The Engineer I have known the longest, maybe 30 years. His daughter and one of mine were close friends in high school. I knew David’s brother when I lived in Washington state, then there was that name thing. We have grown very close.

But the wondering David is my very special friend. In our little group he is David and I am Dave. We lead a study group together, we hike together, camp together and enjoy each other’s company.

We guys don’t do well with close male friends. We tend to miss that part of our lives. This David was in the hospital once, and I took him flowers. “When was the last time a guy brought you flowers?” I asked. “Never.”

Right now, I think of David 3, the rest of are here in Idaho. He is in central america right now. He and his family have lived in Bolivia, Kenya, Belize and the US in their married life. David’s dad was an electrician and david apprenticed as a plumber and he is a certified aircraft mechanic.

The big shots of the world like to think it is their genius that keeps the world going, but reality is that the maintenance people, the ones that fix things, keep it all running. Bad maintenance and the best factory grinds to a stop, good maintenance and the big shots look good.

David has spent a life making others look good.

This fall, there was a project in Nicaragua to put in wells in one of the most backward of the villages. David went to help on that project. He got there in that Jeep I mentioned a bit ago. His travel companion is a concert organist. They are both having a great time, I know.

Before he began this trip, he asked me if I would like to go with him. I answered: “Of course.” I couldn’t for a lot of reasons including my friend Alz, but it was a good thought. We would have had a great time.

Be careful David and make it back safely. I miss you.

Monday, December 3, 2007

miriam last week

late crisis

I went through a mid life crisis that I thought would kill me.

I was in my mid 40's.

It came when a few things dawned on me: 1. I was as good at what I did for a living as I was likely to get, and found the job and the industry boring; 2. My kids had reached the age where they didn’t need me so much, they were in their late teens and were showing signs of independence; and 3. By any measure, my life was on the downhIll side.

Now, a few decades later. I still am bored and a bit frustrated; my daughters are wonderfully independent, and my life is closer than ever to the right hand margin. My plans for my retirement get swallowed in day to day stuff that seems important but is not part of my grand plan.

And to make it all the more frustrating, my dear sweet Miriam, is slowly leaving me.

I guess it is a late life crisis.

As my daughters reach their mid life, they too are adjusting. Our oldest grandson married this summer. Another is almost ready for college. My granddaughters are become beauties, my grandsons handsome. As they grow, I become aware of my aging and acutely aware that I might not get to go to all their weddings or hold all their babies.

Few will admit anything so drastic a thing as a mid life crisis. None of my friends will, in public at least, but I do and did. And, maybe I am repeating.

Questions multiply: Can we live successfully in our house on our small income? How long can I take good care of my Miriam? Will my dear grandkids do well in life? Will they be smart when they really need to be? Will my garden grow well this year? Will gas get so spendy we cannot go to see our grandkids?

After a certain point, all I can do is trust and move on, and be as wise as possible. Move on I can do, but wisdom seems to be in short supply in this old world. So many decisions I would like to make are made by someone else or by this disease that has changed my life.

I seem to have so little real control of things.

And, sometimes I am overcome by the emotion of it all, and I bow my head in sorrow.