Saturday, January 19, 2013

That is me a LONG time ago, maybe 50 years ago. Not totally sure.


Yesterday was Miriam's birthday.

It was one of those numbers that Meredith Willson associated with trombones! Let you figure that one out!

She got a shower in the morning and afternoon we went to a restaurant for her birthday dinner. We were the guests of my aunt (my mother's baby sister) and uncle.

It was good. We had a good time. The food was good, though not quite as wonderful as the price, oh well.

Of course by the time we got home Miriam could not remember we had even eaten. That is how my life works now.

Today we are sitting side by side in the white leather chairs that we brought with us when we left our Idaho home. (Daughter 4 bought the leather set new and bequeathed it to us a few years ago, so it has been well used and well loved.)

I hold her hand.

That hand fit into my hand so easily so many years ago and still does.

She cannot remember who I am for sure. She thinks I am her brother.

I cry.

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

I saw this gentleman in a Museum in Portland a while back. I am sure he was very important in his day, and it is a very good Roman copy of a Greek sculpture.

What amazed me was that I was ALLOWED to take pictures at all. Museums have not taken to cameras kindly. When I asked the friendly guard about taking pictures she said it was OK as long as i didn't use flash. Since I would rather chew on barbed wire than use flash, that was not a problem.


I have three granddaughters about a year different in age from the oldest to the youngest.

The last one had her 18th birthday about Christmas time and she decided it was time to spread her wings. She moved to Portland where she is living with Daughter 4, getting ready to go to Chef's school and enjoying her new life.

There are times when we all need good mentoring, and this will be no exception.

Granddaughter sent me a card for Christmas. In part she wrote: "Thank you for treating me like your other grandkids." She is adopted, so that is not an idle statement.

I was a step child and have an inkling of what it must be to be adopted. But when I got word that this child was going to be adopted into my family I vowed that she would never say that Grandpa took better care of the other grandkids than her.

Seems that my wish and determination have come true.


About the time you think you see a big turning point in this disease it changes.

A few weeks ago Miriam had trouble with most everything. But now not so much so.

She knows who I am almost always, and at bed time. After I tuck her in bed in daughter's house I ask her if it is OK now if I go to my little house to go to bed. She says "yes" but asks to be hugged first, which is surely not a problem.

Yesterday we drove to a nearby town, an hour away, to look at a wood lathe (I did not buy it). Miriam went with me. She enjoyed the trip, and her walking to the restaurant was slower than normal but we got there alright.

We had Pizza (the fist pizza I bought in a LOT of  years).  After we had both eaten a good bit there was one piece left. "I'll split this last piece with you," says I. "No, I'll eat it all!" So I split it 1/3 2/3 and gave her the big piece.

It quickly went away. She was happy, and later I had a roaring gut ache!