Thanks to my “business manager” (aka my husband) I added another element to my presentation the other night. I brought journals along – some basic composition books he had augmented with guidelines pasted on the inside covers. Since the Atria in Barrington RI was considerate enough to offer me a speaker/travel fee, I felt I could afford to give these books gratis to anyone in the audience who wanted one. As usual, I asked the attendees: "Who already keeps a journal?" I was surprised when only one person raised her hand. Many of the remaining participants did take a journal with them when they left. I hope they are using them!
    With “Journaling Through Life’s Challenges” on the cover, the book offers what any journal offers someone: a place to put those thoughts and feelings, especially those that can weigh us down. I’d written in the guidelines: "This is your "wastebasket" for trash, your "altar" for prayer -- and anything in between!"  Another important bit of advice though: "Never expect it to become a book." Journaling is private; it has to be to stay honest, I think. That I was “insane” enough to put my journal entries out there as I shared my story, well, that’s just testimony to the honesty of the account. Personal essays come close in capturing that honesty, but I’d better not go down that path. (Trying to explain the difference between journal entries and personal essays became a maddening joke between my publisher and me!)
    Best to just encourage writing! Write it down, get it out, and get through whatever trial is causing you pain. I’ll soon be starting a new prayer journal  myself as my present one is filling up. I love the feeling of a book with blank pages beckoning me. And life always offers us fresh material.

            A few days ago I was feeling about as sick as I remember ever being and I murmured: “I want my mommy!” Isn’t it the truth? When we were children our mothers would be there, (if we were so blessed) holding back our hair as we barfed up a lung or putting a cold towel on our foreheads. My mother had been a nurses’ aide, and maybe that gave her an extra level of know-how and compassion. I don’t know, but she had a way of treating a sick child that to me was the epitomy of good health care.
              She’d put fresh sheets on her own bed, top it with the light-weight white bedspread and tell me to climb in. There’d be ginger ale and saltines on the nightstand, and of course she’d come in often to check on me. My dad (twice blessed was I) had sawed off the legs of a small table, so this was set up for me to draw on if I was up to it. Otherwise, I’d doze and rest and inevitably feel a whole lot better.
              As I sit here (still in my robe days later) recovering from that bug from hell, I think again of my mom. I smile as I recall a phone call with her when I was married and lived many miles away. I don’t remember what unhappy circumstance had gotten her down that day, but she sort of laughed and whined to me: “I want my daughter!”  I’m sure we had a good long talk after that.
              I’m glad these memories push aside those from the last dark years when she was the one in need of comforting and I had so little to offer. Sick or not, I will always want my mommy. With all she left me, I know I’ll always have her. Thanks again, Mom.

    I was right about the Memory Café in Waterford (see previous blog post). It is warm and welcoming, a combination of a home atmosphere with an open café feel going as well. It’s a place for caregivers and their loved ones to gather for conversation and support. I would urge anyone to look into what it has to offer. I didn’t have as much time as I might have liked to speak to the caregivers alone, but we still shared ideas and feelings. Just getting people to talk about their experiences is worthwhile.
    Next up for me is a trip to my home state. I’ve been invited to speak at Atria Bay Spring, 147 Bay Spring Avenue, Barrington RI Wednesday Feb. 8 at 6 PM. (If the weather is bad, we’re keeping the next day, Feb 9, as a “snow date.”) A light supper will be available, so please call (401)-246-2500 to register. Once again the facility is offering my book to a number of participants, and I expect the format to be similar to the presentation I gave at the Atria in Waterford back in November. There I addressed caregivers and professionals on the challenges of having a loved one stricken with dementia. We also had an opportunity to exchange thoughts on how we get through it. It’s those life preservers again -- so important to be aware of them and use them too!

          It’s been a while since I’ve talked to a group of people about my experiences with my mom and my book, Almost Home. This Wednesday afternoon I’ll be doing that with a small group of caregivers at Memory Café in Waterford CT. (See previous blog-post). There is something about meeting primary caregivers that absolutely humbles me. I have such admiration for what they do, day in and day out. Oh sure, before my mom entered the nursing home I’d do some hands-on stuff for her when I’d stay at the house for a couple of days, but that pales in comparison with what I expect the people I’ll meet Wednesday do routinely.
         As secondary caregiver or long-distance caregiver (or guilt-ridden-distant-daughter?) or whatever I might have been called, “all” I had to do was visit. Visit and see my mother slipping further and further away from me. I think the only thing I can hope to share on Wednesday is 1.) How God’s grace saw me through it; and 2.) How journaling provided an emotional release. It’s all about sharing life preservers (as I’ve said before many times).

Although I don’t make New Year’s Resolutions anymore, there are a few things I hope to improve upon in 2012. Among them is getting out there more to share my book. Despite the normal butterflies in the stomach when addressing a group of people, I have found the presentation path so rewarding – and I don’t just mean in sales. Not at all. The opportunity to share with others “in the same boat” is a precious thing, and talking to folks afterwards has given me a sense of connectedness that is gratifying on a personal level.
    If you are someone who is in that boat I just referred to, I’d love to see you. I have two events coming up in the next few weeks. The first is at the Memory Café in Waterford (Elderevaluations, 396 Willetts Avenue) on January 25th. I’ll be joining some caregivers and others for a chat and refreshments around one o’clock that day, then giving a more formal talk with book excerpts at 2:00. I’ll have books available for sale and the coordinator, Rose Levine tells me she’s raffling off a copy to participants. Please let her know you’re coming by calling the office: (860)-443-3925.
    In February I’ll be heading to my home state. I’ve been invited to speak at Atria Bay Spring Village in Barrington RI (147 Bay Spring Avenue). This is scheduled for Wednesday Feb. 8 at 6 PM (with the next day, Feb 9, set aside as a “snow date” if needed). A light super is served at this facility, so please let them know if you’re planning to go. You can call: (401)-246-2500. 
I'll try to do better keeping this sort of information available on this blog. And of course getting myself lined up to do more of these sorts of events. Thanks to all who have been so encouraging!

In my ongoing determination to keep my old gray cells firing, I like to try new things. Well, sort of. Unfortunately I think my upbringing "taught" me to be overly cautious, stay safe, etc. You won't be seeing me jumping out of a plane, that's for sure. But I love writing and have recently been taking a class on fiction writing. Immersed as I am in personal essays and reality (not TV) accounts, I have always acknowledged: I simply don't do fiction. Now,in the throes of getting made-up characters to "tell" me where they want to go next, I am feeling both challenged and a little excited. Frankly, it's kind of fun! (Of course I haven't gotten to the revision stage yet!) So, that's what I'm writing these days; what am I reading?

With a gift card to my favorite book store in hand (Bank Square Books in  Mystic), I bought a book I've been meaning to read for ages and knew I'd want to own: Still Alice by Lisa Genova. This novel lets us inside the mind of someone diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's. I think it's clear why I had to read it and also why I'd put it off. Finding the emotional energy to read about something that is equivalent to walking into a dark alley is difficult. Having lived through my mother's dementia and experienced that long good-bye, I wasn't sure I'd ever have the guts to read this book. I'm glad I am doing so now. Stories, real, imagined or a combination of both offer ways to get in touch with our feelings. Sometimes that is a scary thing, something we avoid to preserve our fragile frame of mind. Still, I remember that feelings are just there --never right or wrong. And to face them, air them out, respect them, is a step toward a better frame of mind --  one that's more honest and in the end more free.

For better or worse, Christmas is a time for memories,family traditions kept or lost. This week I was able to resurrect one my mother always had. She'd tape the Christmas cards along the edges of the door frames and before long we had instant decoration greeting us as we passed from room to room. Alas I was always too practical to muck up my door frames with tape and other "solutions" never seemed to work. This year I looked at my white door frame in our tiny hallway and lamented to my husband (the wonderful one, remember) that I wished I could hang the cards up like my mother did so we could see them better and enjoy them more. He considered cork, adhesive, post-it note tape, but finally said, "Just do it. We can always touch up the paint after Christmas if we need to." So now I have this door frame filled with bright cards.(And yes, some have more than one tape strip holding them up.) It serves as another happy memory of childhood Christmases and a lovely reminder of family and friends. I confess I have sent out fewer cards myself this year, sent email greetings and a Face Book post. Yet I love the cards and the emotions they evoke. Now to my website visitors I leave this sorry excuse for a greeting card: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. And Happy Hannakah too. May all holidays be merry and bright, filled with love and light and pleasant memories that we'll hold on to forever.

I had another* opportunity to be a guest blogger for a Christian writer friend of mine, this time with some Christmas/December reflections for her post, Dawn's New Day. I'd already described here at my own blogpost the special meaning of my family star that sits atop our tree every year. This time I shared some reflections on two of my very favorite ornaments which are pictured here in this photo: a soft-sculpture baby Jesus made and given to me by my cousin Pat decades ago and a small sign I received from a teacher friend of mine when I first started working with her. Its message is pretty clear as you can see. I HOPE I can share the link to the blog here so you can easily visit Dawn's New Day and read my story. Here goes (You know how tech-challenged i can be!):
 
http://networkedblogs.com/rvZqJ?ref=nf


*I'd shared some November thoughts last month; here's the link to that one: http://blog.dawnaldrich.com/search?q=November

     For as long as I've been married (40+years!) and had my own family Christmas tree, It's been topped by this "ugly" plastic star that had adorned the tree when I was a kid. I figure it's got to be near 70 years old. (I'm much younger of course, but I figure the parents must have had it for years before I was born.) I remember my dad and I picking out a live tree and his stringing the lights when we got it home. All in all some very sweet memories and since I was the "last to leave" when a big tree became too much for them to handle, I got the star. A treasure, ugly or not. But over the years the attachment part broke and my industrious husband applied one "band-aid" after another to keep it going. Then this year we decided it just wouldn't do. The night-light attachment to keep it lit was heavy and the plastic star just couldn't stay put.
     With some sadness I bought a replacement star this year, but lovingly placed the antique one in my china cabinet with other Christmas decorations. End of story? Not at all. Because today a routine trip to the hardware store yielded a solution. (Aka small miracle?) In the Christmas decorations department, my husband spotted this single light at the end of a cord. He suggested we try it on the old star! Despite some alterations he'd had to do on our artificial treetop to accommodate the new star, he persevered. With several trips to his workshop, he got the old family star attached! I was standing back, keeping my hopes tamped down in case it didn't work. but of course it did. When he stepped away from the tree and I saw my star back where it belonged, tears filled my eyes. Of course I gave the hubby a kiss and told him he is wonderful. (He really is!) 
     Connections like this-- to my family, my parents, and my past are treasures for sure. This little Christmas miracle just underscores how little blessings can mean so much. I have to believe my mom and dad would have loved to see this unfold. Hey, who's to say they didn't?

I hope I can write a coherent blog post as I am currently on some pain killers prescribed post-surgery. I had my torn meniscus repaired two days ago on Friday, November 18th. That date is already important to me as it's the anniversary of my mother's death; hard to believe it's been eight years. Anyway, I was home from the out-patient hospital a short time Friday afternoon when a neighbor came over to see me. She had a small bouquet of roses she'd clipped form her rose bush and a card. They had nothing to do with my surgery however, as she hadn't even known I was having it! This dear lady had read my book this summer and remembered that November 18th was special to me. Thus the flowers and card. I determined then that I'd have to write about this sweet gesture when I next recorded my reflections here. After all, I believe that people (some call them angels!) are among the life preservers God sends to help us. I'm glad I waited to write this though since an hour ago her husband showed up at my door with a bag of home-made oatmeal cookies. His wife had attached a note: "How's the pain level?" with three "smily" faces denoting happy to sad. I joked that I would gladly "Take two and call her in the morning." Talk about pain-killers! Is there anything better than the thoughtfulness of others? One more indicator of how connected we are and one more thing to be grateful for as we look ahead to Thanksgiving. I smile now as I look over to my crutches and offer this silly closing remark: "God bless us, every one."  :)   And now, for those cookies . . . .