Category Archives: Memories

March 21, 2012 · 11:20 am

Polly the parrot

I thought Mom was nuts when she bought a toy parrot that repeats everything you say. This was prior to Dad’s dementia. In fact, when she would insist upon “Polly” sending me a message on our weekly phone conversations, I was more concerned about mom’s sanity at that point. But apparently I owe Mom (and Polly) a big apology.

Mom with "Polly" the talking parrot toy.

I stumbled upon this blog post about Dotty and Harvey thanks to Lark Kirkwood’s Elder Advocates blog. What a delightful and insightful story and video. Who knew this cheap parrot toy could connect with Alzheimer’s patients better than some caregivers can?

I was blown away when I read about Dotty and Harvey because once my dad was battling dementia, Mom would still play Polly for Dad when he was depressed or agitated. She said it brightened his mood. I have a feeling it made her feel better as well.

You have to be creative when you are a caregiver for someone with Alzheimer’s. Mom was being quite savvy in her own kooky way.

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March 20, 2012 · 10:49 am

Dad takes on Humphrey Bogart

If I had a dollar for every time I found my dad watching “Casablanca” when I was a kid, I probably wouldn’t have to go to work today. As a child, the old black-and-white movies bored me to death, but now I have quite a large classic movie selection. I definitely prefer the classics to most of the movies being made today.

I guess Dad felt the same way. I remember how Mom and I would want to go to the mall or on some outing on a Sunday afternoon, and Dad would tell us to wait until the end of the movie. Even my mom would be miffed. “You’ve seen that movie over and over, you know how it ends,” she would scold him out of frustration. It didn’t matter because it was “Casablanca” and Humphrey Bogart was lighting up the screen. Dad would sit in front of the TV, transfixed, and not budge until the credits started rolling.

That’s why I was thrilled to find this photo of Dad, who looks like he’s doing his best Bogart impersonation. It’s obviously a photo booth photo, but there’s no date and I have no idea where it was taken. I know Dad wanted to get into acting, and judging by this photo, he could have easily been an extra in a film noir movie of the era. He’s definitely going for the hard-boiled detective look in this photo.

It seems that people of my parents’ generation found simple ways to escape out of the doldrums of daily life. My dad was not the most fascinating person in the world, but I’ve stumbled upon great photos like these that show a completely different side of him. When I think back on the photos I have of myself, there’s nothing nearly as interesting. I think now we are more concerned about being seen at XYZ tourist destination, thinking that by being present in a certain location, it will transform us, but back in the day, when perhaps travel wasn’t as easy for everyone, people like my Dad transformed themselves instead of their environment.

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March 19, 2012 · 10:39 am

Dad helping out with baby duties

From what Mom has told me, Dad was always willing to help out with the multitude of chores that comes with having a baby. Still, Mom did the bulk of the work, and I’m guessing Dad didn’t have to change my diaper very often. He apparently liked to give me my bottle in the morning, and of course, he loved to sing me to sleep. My mom says I adjusted to their schedule pretty well, so perhaps it paid off that Dad was never one of those 9-5 office types. My parents were already used to being awake until the wee hours of the morning.

Dad desperately trying to feed me.

Poor Dad, trying to feed me in this photo. Clearly, I have no desire to cooperate. I guess he should have stuck to singing lullabies and making Donald Duck imitations, and left the clean-and-feed operations to Mom. I’m sure he was hoping Mom would ask him to go on a diaper run or some other errand to get him out of this failed mission.

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March 18, 2012 · 10:21 am

Dad entering the Irish Sweepstakes

As I was going through some of my father’s items, I found this Irish Sweepstakes ticket shoved deep into a forgotten pocket of his wallet. Lord knows how long it had been there. The date on the ticket is 1978. I would have been four at the time. I remember some hoopla over these tickets in our household, and no doubt my mom was concerned about the fact that it was illegal in the U.S., though ironically, the Irish Sweepstakes reportedly earned more revenue from America than any other country. I’m guessing Dad just had his family members slip a ticket inside a letter.

I knew as a kid that it was some kind of lottery, but I didn’t realize that part of the proceeds benefited hospitals in Ireland, much like the lottery here in Georgia benefits higher education. I guess I always thought the Irish Sweepstakes was more like a traditional raffle, but throw in the race horse element and the whole thing becomes complicated. In fact, Dad also enjoyed betting on the horses, and my mom did too. Going to the racetracks in California a couple of times a year were like mini-vacations for us. Dad never had much luck, but he would usually break even.

Of course, it was my mom that ended up having all of the luck, winning $100,000 on a scratch-off ticket. Sadly, her luck came too late for Dad and her to be able to enjoy it. Dad was already well into his dementia, and instead of using the winnings to take a vacation, the extra funds helped pay for Dad’s expensive care over the next year. Of course, we were lucky as a family not to have to wipe out our bank accounts like many families in similar situations have to do, but it is still bittersweet.

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March 17, 2012 · 9:14 am

Happy St. Patrick’s Day

Well, if there was ever a holiday for my dad, today is the day. From what I remember as a kid, Dad was somewhat suspicious of the commercialization of St. Patrick’s Day, just as some people are of Christmas. Dad was VERY sensitive of anyone making fun of the Irish, so I think the leering leprechauns posted everywhere made Dad a bit peeved. If my mom really wanted to get under his skin, then she would tell an Irish joke. No matter how benign they were (and Mom only told G-rated jokes), Dad would never laugh. That being said, I’m guessing Dad never turned down a pint of green beer, especially if someone else was buying the round.

Image: Clipartpal.com

I do remember Dad telling the fable about how St. Patrick drove the snakes out of Ireland, but as a small child, I could relate better to the goofy leprechaun on the box of Lucky Charms cereal.

When I started going to school, I loved St. Patrick’s Day, because I was usually the only person in my class who had a parent that was actually born and raised in Ireland. It made me feel special, because Ireland wasn’t just another country to me, but a magical place that my dad talked about fondly and often.

So Dad, hope they are serving pints of Guinness today on the house, wherever you are.

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March 16, 2012 · 9:48 am

Sacred Heart Auto League member

I found this membership card in one of Dad’s nightstand drawers, along with many other religious icons and cards. Apparently, he was a member of the Sacred Heart Auto League. I was not familiar with the organization, so I Googled it. Seems like a decent enough of a group, encouraging people to drive safely as a way to honor their religious beliefs. I think Dad lived up to the “prayerful and careful driving” that the League preached, as he always drove slowly, much to the chagrin of the fast and loose California drivers. (Some of those drivers would make hand gestures as they sped around Dad that I’m pretty sure Jesus would not approve of.)

And who knows, maybe all of those religious icons and prayers kept my parents safe as Dad’s ability to drive deteriorated when his dementia became more severe. If there was ever a time to believe in guardian angels or some type of protective spirit, it’s when you are taking care of a loved one with dementia.

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March 15, 2012 · 3:09 pm

Dad’s journey a contrast in geography

My mom was talking to my dad’s sister recently, who is still spry at 90 and still living in Belfast. She mentioned that she was going to visit their grandmother’s farm, where she said Dad spent a lot of time as a child. It made me think about the drastic changes in geography in Dad’s life.

He started out in lush, green Northern Ireland, though perhaps the scenery was a bit grittier due to growing up in Belfast, which was rocked hard by the Nazis in WWII.  Then he moved to England when he was just 17, where he lived the city life as a young working man.

Mom and Dad in Ruidoso

Then came the big change. He immigrated to the U.S. by hopping on a freighter for a two-week journey by water to New York City. The sights and sounds of the urban jungle must have been overwhelming. Then he spent some time in storied New Orleans before settling down in Los Angeles. Hollywood no doubt allured my Dad out West. The suburb he ended up raising his family in, Downey, was nice enough but not particularly special.

My parents retired in Ruidoso, NM about a decade ago. Some family members at first thought that my parents had moved to Mexico.  Most people probably envision a desert-like environment when they think of New Mexico. A good deal of the state is arid, but Ruidoso is actually a mountain town, and known for its snow skiing.  Dad mainly liked the climate there, though it got a bit too cold for him in the winter and he didn’t like the blustery winds the area is known for.

Dad spent the last two months of his life in Albuquerque. The city possesses an arid beauty, but we could also see the majestic Sandia mountains from my dad’s hospital window. So Dad was able to experience many different climates and ways of living over his lifetime. I’m guessing if he had to choose, he would return to the pastoral serenity of his grandmother’s farm.

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March 14, 2012 · 11:38 am

Dad concerned about our safety

Dad was always a bit of the paranoid type, and the crime reports were one of his favorite sections of the newspaper. There were plenty of kooks in California, and there never seemed to be a shortage of high-profile crimes being reported.

Fortunately, the worst I can remember happening to our family was my mom’s purse getting snatched when I was about four. Dad was at work at the time, and we were just outside the grocery store. My mom was probably checking her receipt and had set down her purse next to her on the bench when the thief swooped in. I remember a rush of air, my mom exclaiming that the man took her purse, and my little legs pumping after the guy. That’s right, a preschooler who’s a crime fighter! Needless to say, I did not catch him.

Even as an adult, when I talked to Dad on the phone, and after we got the usual talk of the weather out of the way, Dad would want to know how I got to and from work and if there were other people around. He would always tell me to be careful. The fatherly advice usually just annoyed me.

When Dad went into the nursing home, most of the time he recognized Mom but as the months went by, he became more distant. Still, as she prepared to end the visit and endure the long bus ride back home, Dad would tell her, “You be careful now.”

He was still trying to protect her, even when he couldn’t do it himself anymore.

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March 13, 2012 · 10:37 am

Dad’s Hollywood ad agency photo

I’ve written before about how my dad was drawn to the allure of Hollywood and hoped to get into the movies. When my mom was writing Dad’s obituary, she wanted to find the perfect photo. She went through quite a few pictures and was growing tired when she stumbled on this awesome find.

The copyright is 1956 Hollywood Ad-Photos. I don’t know if Dad got anything out of this at the time, or if it just became a cherished relic of his youthful dreams. But I’m glad we were able to have this photo recorded with his obituary, as I’m sure Dad was quite proud of it.

I have no idea what the horseshoe is about. I hope to delve a little deeper and research this service.  Was it some mail-order scam or was it a legitimate agency? Secretly, I’d love to uncover an ad with Dad’s smiling mug on it. 

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March 12, 2012 · 12:22 pm

Dad’s favorite jacket

My mom and I found Dad’s old, beloved jacket as we were going through some of Dad’s old belongings. Dad was once a pretty sharp dresser, but as he got older, he gravitated towards a few favorite items that he would don on a regular basis. He had certain caps he loved wearing, and this was one of his favorite jackets.

When the dementia became more severe and he began wandering, we were happy he loved to wear this jacket because at least his name was stitched on it, even though it was becoming frayed. I took this photo to accompany a GPS tracking service offered by the Alzheimer’s Association. 

Dad never had the chance to use it as he had a medical emergency that landed him in the hospital. After that, he was housed in secure facilities so we didn’t have to worry about him wandering away anymore.

The jacket now resides in my closet.

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