Category Archives: Memories

May 20, 2012 · 3:38 pm

Hey, this Coke tastes like onions!

As I’ve mentioned before, most of our restaurant visits as a family were to fast food places, but occasionally, we would go somewhere a bit nicer, or least to a place that had cloth napkins. The Red Chile was a family favorite. When we were in an Italian mood, we would head to Vito’s. I can’t determine if this place still exists as there are two restaurants, Vito’s and Vito’s Pizza, listed online in the L.A. area. The place we went to was a modest, family-run restaurant with the traditional red and white checkered tablecloths. I remember it being a pretty far drive, so we didn’t go very often, as Dad didn’t like to drive in unfamiliar areas that had heavy traffic. Mom loved the eggplant parmesan, while Dad usually had the meatball sandwich. I was very small, and there was no kid’s menu, so I munched on meatballs and garlic bread. (Wow, what a healthy dinner!)

On this one particular visit which stands out in my mind, I ordered a Coke as usual. It was a hot day and I eagerly peeled off the paper wrapping on the straw and took a big sip. It tasted very funny. I couldn’t quite identify it at first, but Dad noticed my wrinkled nose. I told my parents that my soda didn’t taste right. My mom thought I was just being picky. Dad offered to order me another one (probably to get me to stop whining about it) but Mom didn’t want to make a scene. I went into tantrum mode, refusing to drink the soda. At some point, we figured out it was the ice cubes! They must have been stored in an area with something made with lots of onions and they had absorbed the distinct flavor.

I received a new soda, without ice. Our Italian dining adventure went on without any further issues. I can’t remember when or why we stopped going to this particular restaurant, but I still have the fuzzy memories and that taste of onion-flavored Coke to savor.

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May 19, 2012 · 2:45 pm

Dad’s trouble with Talwin

Last week, I wrote about how Dad ruined Mom’s first Mother’s Day by landing in the hospital for foot surgery. He ended up in a tremendous amount of pain from the procedure.

In walked Talwin. It became my dad’s new best friend and my mom’s worst nightmare.

Talwin (Pentazocine) is intended for moderate to severe pain and actually had been tested by several legitimate organizations in the 1960’s which had lauded the drug for its non-addictive properties. Well, Dad and some heroin junkies looking for a cheap fix proved them wrong. “Ts and Blues” was all the rage briefly circa 1978. Some enterprising heroin addicts had found that by crushing up Talwin along with an over-the-counter antihistamine (tripelennamine—the pills were blue) and injecting it, they could produce a high similar to heroin. Dad was terrified of needles, so I’m sure he stuck with the pill form.

Mom swears Talwin was banned at some point. From my research, it seems another drug, naloxone, was added to Talwin to block the drug’s use recreationally, which caused its illicit use to plummet, therefore the drug remains legal. Perhaps Mom is just having some wishful thinking. According to Mom, while Dad was in the woozy grasps of Talwin, he somehow managed to work and pay the bills but he would park the car in the middle of the street. When he was at home, he would sleep. And sleep some more.

Eventually, he ran out of any refills he might have been given for his recovery from foot surgery. He went with Mom to the doctor to beg for more pills. The doctor refused. Dad tried to wheedle some more drugs out of the doctor, but the doctor just looked over at Mom, who said nothing but nodded to show she supported the doctor’s decision. Dad had Mom wait outside and he went back in for a final plea. Rejected again, he walked out, angry and in need of some T’s.

Ultimately, he switched from T’s to V’s, as in Valium, until he gave up his pill popping phase for good. Well, that is, until he was fed a steady stream of mind-altering drugs in the care center at the end of his life. Of course, pill addiction now has reached epidemic levels in the U.S. We were fortunate as a family that Dad was able to escape from the cruel jaws of addiction back in the 1970’s.

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May 18, 2012 · 3:12 pm

Dad takes me to awards night

In high school I was ostracized by my classmates due to my own stupidity. As an only child, I was used to spending a lot of time alone so it didn’t bother me too much. I avoided all of the social activities that most high schoolers engage in, like dances and football games. I never told my parents about my social isolation at school, so they just assumed everything was fine. In my senior year of high school, there was a special awards program, where college scholarships and such were being handed out. I was “strongly encouraged” to attend by my academic advisor. I dreaded it with every fiber of my being. My mom found out about the presentation and wanted to go. Dad had to take the night off from his security guard job to take us to the event, which was being held in the auditorium of a local hotel. I felt trapped. Dad had gone out of his way to get the night off, now I would be forced to go.

As it turned out, Mom wasn’t feeling well that day. I can’t remember if it was menopause-related or just some kind of flu. Suddenly, I was the concerned and sympathetic teenage daughter, assuring Mom I would not be upset if she didn’t attend. She mercifully backed out of the event. I convinced Dad to just drop me off at the hotel. We were in the distant stage of our relationship and I’m guessing he was more than relieved not to have to sit through some boring school function. I’m not sure what he did during the event, as it was a couple of hours long, but I’m sure he went through plenty of cigarettes!

I remember feeling very alone and very awkward. Luckily, I was past that stage where Mom could force me to wear a dress, but I was still in dressier clothes and shoes than I was accustomed to. I remember standing in a corner, near a tall plant, trying to hide myself from everyone else. I remember staring out the window, which looked out upon the valet and front entrance. I watched my classmates arriving with their parents, some happy, some annoyed, some indifferent. I remember feeling very far removed from it all.

I don’t know why I didn’t consider ditching the event altogether. I guess I was a pretty honest kid, and if my mom found out I had not attended, she would be mad.

Finally, the ceremony began. I don’t remember the details, except being mortified at hearing my name called as a scholarship winner. It wasn’t any full-tuition thing, I think it was $500 or a $1000, but I was the only recipient. I focused on making it up the steps to the stage, and being polite to the administrator who handed me the certificate. I couldn’t wait to escape the stage and slink back to my seat.

Then it was over. This was before cellphones, so I guess I had told Dad to meet me at a certain time. I found him lingering outside, finishing up a cigarette. Normally, I hated being seen with my parents, just like most teenagers. But that night I was glad Dad was there. I told Dad about my scholarship and he was genuinely proud, saying how he had always wanted to continue his schooling but never had the opportunity. It was a nice father-daughter moment, one I didn’t appreciate at the time but now treasure as a loving memory.

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May 17, 2012 · 3:16 pm

What the National Alzheimer’s Plan means to me

With the Obama administration releasing the National Alzheimer’s plan this week, everyone that is an Alzheimer’s advocate is being encouraged to give their opinions about the plan and share their stories. Obviously, through this blog, The Memories Project, I’ve been telling my father’s story all year long.

I think the plan is a good first step, but I am concerned about what looks good on paper may be difficult to execute in reality. I hope I am wrong for the millions of those with Alzheimer’s and their loved ones that care for them. For those of us who have already lost someone to this terrible disease, the plan won’t bring our loved ones back, but we can still participate in the battle.

To me, public education and care services are two of the most important aspects of the plan that must be addressed immediately. Of course, I support research and sincerely hope that one day there is a cure and/or a vaccine. But even a delay of onset of symptoms could preserve the quality of life of so many people. But we need to educate people now, not just about the disease itself, but about preparing for end-of-life issues. No one wants to talk about these things, but we must get over this fear of death. My mom is just now talking to a lawyer about several IRA’s that are tied to a bank in California that my Dad set up decades ago. Nearly five months after my father’s death, and the paperwork is nowhere near being completed.

We have to create better care options for those with Alzheimer’s and dementia. Specialized care is necessary, but there are simply not enough options for those that live outside of large metropolitan settings like my parents did. Of course, there would need to be a huge increase in the amount of care workers and volunteers to provide these extra services. Maybe we need to get creative, and forgive a portion of college loan debt for those willing to volunteer their time for Alzheimer’s care. Young people’s spirits can offer a tremendous lift to those with dementia. Similar programs already exist, but maybe they could be expanded. The long-term unemployed could also be included to build up a corps of caregivers.

One of the aspects of my family’s experience with Alzheimer’s that pains me the most is the fact that my mom worked so hard to get my dad moved to a facility that was near her, but when there was finally a bed opening, he was too sick by that point to enjoy it. She could walk to the new care center, but Dad was so sick he ended up in the hospital within days and never returned to the center. People shouldn’t feel guilty about placing their loved ones in care centers, but they also should have convenient access to visit their lifelong partners. Alzheimer’s is a burden enough without the pain that a physical separation can cause.

Here’s hoping the National Alzheimer’s Plan will increase Alzheimer’s awareness and offer relief for those impacted by the disease.

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May 16, 2012 · 2:39 pm

A visit to the water park

As the weather heats up outside, I’ve been thinking about those scorching summers as a kid in southern California. I was sensitive to the heat as was my dad, though he was tougher than I was because he worked outside in all kinds of weather conditions! My family did not head to the beach like a lot of families in the area did to cool off. My parents weren’t fans of sunbathing and my pale skin burned within a few minutes of exposure. We usually went to the movie theatre to cool off. One time, I remember us visiting a water park.

It was an odd choice, since I didn’t know how to swim. Neither did Dad, but Mom used to be able to dog paddle back in the day. I remember Dad balking at the cost of admission. I guess having to pay any amount of money to walk around and smoke was an injustice to him! Mom just sat on a bench and watched the action. I was way too scared to get on the giant water slide that you could see towering into the sky as you drove by the place. I settled for the boat ride.

The boats were round contraptions that could hold up to two people, but I was at that age where I didn’t want to be seen with my parents. So I boarded alone, with some help from one of the park attendants. He went through a blistering set of instructions that I only caught 10 percent of, due to the noise of the other riders. I figured it couldn’t be that difficult; there were only a couple of different controls and everyone else seemed to be moving along just fine.

I can’t remember how long we had in the water, I’m guessing 5-10 minutes at most. It seemed like a lifetime to me, because I proceeded to go around in circles the entire time. I watched helplessly as the other riders cruised straight ahead to a lagoon-like area that looped around, while I sat in the middle of the water, spinning around like a top. The attendant tried to shout tips to me but I couldn’t hear him. Finally, I had to be “rescued” as I couldn’t make it back to the dock! I was so humiliated.

Mom had seen part of my odd excursion but I played it off, telling her I intended to stay in the same area the whole time. Pre-teenage pride!

Luckily, Dad had wandered off to smoke and had not seen any of it. I never told him how he wasted his money on my boat ride that went to nowhere.

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May 15, 2012 · 2:59 pm

Dad visit to the lake

There’s been a lot of talk in the news lately about a variety of programs that can help improve the quality of life of Alzheimer’s patients, including music, storytelling, games and dolls. I know they offered some kinds of exercise and social programs at the memory care facility Dad was at, but Dad was always the loner type. For example, I can’t imagine him sitting in a circle and batting a ball around, an activity that many dementia patients seem to take great joy in. Sure, Alzheimer’s changes people’s personality, but I could still see Dad’s old self underneath the disease until the very end.

He must have been so bored and lonely, pacing up and down the hallways of the memory care facility, with only my mom’s bi-monthly visits to break up the monotony.

Copyright: New Mexico State Parks Division

But just about four months or so before he died, there was a field trip for the memory care residents. They went to the Bottomless Lakes State Park that’s a short drive from Roswell, NM. It seems like a beautiful, peaceful place. I don’t know how much Dad was able to enjoy it, but it must have been nice to breathe in the fresh air at least. I know that Dad enjoyed car rides once he had dementia so even if he didn’t like the lake, at least he got to be on the road a bit!

I just have to wonder what Dad saw or thought about as he looked over the expanse of beautiful blue water. Did he feel anything at all or had Alzheimer’s taken away his ability to appreciate the simple beauty of nature?

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May 14, 2012 · 2:15 pm

Dad’s sisters come to visit

Another memory mainly before my time was when my aunts from Ireland came to visit us in California. I was two. I have one lone memory of this incident, really just a like a couple of stills from a film. I remember holding someone’s hand and crossing by the pool to the other side of the apartment complex, where my aunts were able to stay in a vacant unit for the time they were visiting. There was a sense of anticipation as we approached the door of the other apartment. I have absolutely no memory of anything else from that time period.

Why this visit sticks out in my mind is because of my mom’s memory of the visit. It was not a happy one.

For whatever reason, Dad’s sisters were not fond of my mom at the time. I don’t know if this was because of natural sisterly protectiveness or an actual dislike. Obviously, Mom was probably not the bride they would have pictured their “darling brother Pat” marrying. She was a farmer’s daughter from Tennessee with a thick southern accent that follows her to this day. Dad was a shy guy from Belfast who had been doted on by his older sisters as a kid.

Mom prides herself on making everyone like her, event difficult people. My two aunts proved to be tough cookies.

Mom tried her best to impress them by cooking for them and basically waiting on them hand and foot, but from mom’s side of the story, they were impossible to please. They didn’t like her cooking, they didn’t like the accommodations and they made it clear that they wanted to spend time with their brother alone. Mom was very hurt by their behavior, but even more so by Dad’s reaction.

He chose to take his sisters side, and not defend Mom.

Mom would tell the story about their visit many times during my childhood, and I could remember actually feeling the pain and humiliation she suffered. I think Dad did eventually apologize to Mom, but she was still bitter. I’m guessing Dad was just trying to keep everyone happy, and being surrounded by all of that estrogen was overwhelming for him!

Over the past year, my mom has reconnected with my dad’s sisters and they have been great about writing letters and talking to us on the phone. A concern for Dad brought us all closer together, making our differences and all of those miles and years apart vanish.

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May 13, 2012 · 1:34 pm

Dad ruins Mom’s first Mother’s Day

With it being Mother’s Day, I was thinking about how my mom told me her first Mother’s Day turned out. It didn’t involve flowers or a nice brunch.

Dad was in the hospital.

Mom spent her first Mother’s Day lugging a cranky baby down the street to Kaiser Permanente hospital, where my dad was recovering from foot surgery. I’ve written before about my dad’s flat feet. At some point, he ended up with a very painful infection and had to have surgery to remedy the problem. He ended up with some post-surgery complications and was in a lot of pain. So Mom spent her first Mother’s Day visiting a loopy Dad, who was on some strong pain meds by then.

Despite the many hospital visits over the last couple of years of Dad’s life, he stayed in pretty good health after he recovered from the foot surgery. There were those occasional ER trips because of his stomach issues, but no inpatient stays until the dementia had taken its toll on his body.

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May 12, 2012 · 2:40 pm

A stop in Alamogordo

The last time I visited my mom and picked up my dad’s cremains, the shuttle made a stop in Alamogordo on the way back to the airport. I had some time to kill and I roamed aimlessly in the hotel lobby, as it was an unusually chilly, blustery day outside. This tourist guide for Alamogordo caught my eye, especially the phrase, “View the Past, Explore the Future.” How appropriate for me to consider at the time.

For most people, if they were to associate anything at all with Alamogordo, they might mention White Sands National Monument or the White Sands Missile Range, as that is the area where the first atomic bomb was tested. The White Sands monument is definitely worth checking out if you are in the area. But for me, Alamogordo will forever remind me of the final place my dad’s body rested in before being cremated.

Since my dad died just five days before Christmas, there was an issue with getting his death certificate signed and he ended up spending five long days in Alamogordo, in a chilly locker awaiting cremation. Of course he wasn’t feeling any part of his cold, antiseptic final home, his spirit had long flown from this earth. I think I’ve mentioned before that my mom was oddly comforted by knowing that dad’s body was at peace in Alamogordo all of those days, just an hour away from her. In fact, just this week she told me she finally has put Dad’s urn on display.

I was vaguely disturbed by the thought of my father’s dead body lingering in this world for all of those days. It just made me think how random and unpredictable life is. Dad never would have thought that his life, which started in Belfast, Northern Ireland would end in Albuquerque and include a post-death stop in Alamogordo. So many miles, so many memories in just one ordinary life.

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May 11, 2012 · 2:37 pm

Dad giving Mom her quiet time

My mom and dad spent a great deal of time together, especially after my dad retired. As with most people, they could end up wearing on each other’s nerves from time to time. As I’ve mentioned previously, Mom always babied Dad a bit. The man was barely allowed in the kitchen, unless it was time to eat. I don’t think Dad (in his right mind) could have made himself a cup of coffee if his life had depended upon it. Mom made all the meals, all the snacks and every cup of coffee that passed Dad’s lips at home. The home was her domain (befitting her Cancer astrology sign) and Dad knew his place in the home.

And I don’t think Dad minded this arrangement one bit. After all, he came from a generation where the woman was the homemaker and stayed at home to raise the children and support the family’s needs.

My mom told me recently that before Dad had dementia, sometimes she would just need some alone time, and gasp, didn’t feel like making dinner. So she would send Dad off and would tell him he was on his own for dinner. He never once complained about being shooed out of the house. He usually ended up at McDonald’s. One time he brought her home a cookie from whatever restaurant he dined at. I’m guessing Dad needed his alone time just as much as Mom did. Of course, once the dementia set in, Mom would have given anything to have another non-eventful meal with that former version of her husband, the easy-going man who she was married to for 40 years.

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