The Little Neighborhood Boy

A neighbor called yesterday to say that her little boy, who’s going on five, was on his way over to bring me a small coconut shell. They had enjoyed coconut-flavored Island Way Sorbet after lunch, and she told her son that I sometimes use coconut shells as toys for my parrots. (Island Way Sorbet is a delicious frozen treat that comes packaged in nature’s own containers.)

When the little guy arrived, I thanked him for the shell, and we talked a while, as he explored the kitchen. Then, as I knew he would, he asked if he could go to the basement, where I keep some of my grown son’s toys for visiting kids to use. He wanted to select a few Matchbox cars to play with at home. Of course, I told him he could. I was busy in the kitchen, so my husband took him downstairs. And when they came back up, my little buddy showed me the three cars that he was taking home. We talked for a few more minutes and said “good-bye” as he walked toward the door.

But just as I turned back to the sink to finish cleaning vegetables, he ran up behind me, put his arms around my waist and hugged me. Naturally, I turned around and hugged him back. I kissed the top of his head and then walked him to the door. I noticed his darling three-year-old sister coming to meet him in the yard and told them that I’d watch them as they walked home. But before they got more than 20 feet away, the boy ran back and called, “Miss Sandy!” And he blew me a kiss. Now if that isn’t enough to melt your heart, I don’t know what is!

Photo by: Ernst Vikne ©

Title: Yummy

http://www.flickr.com/photos/iboy/5442925234/in/pool-childrensportraits

The Little Neighborhood Boy

Crime Doesn't Pay - Stealing Wild Flowers

A former employer owns a large piece of wooded land that lies adjacent to its facility. The acreage is completely wild, with a river running through it and all kinds of animals and beautiful wild flowers. Fortunately for the employees, the Company had three walking paths made through the area, so that we could get some exercise and fresh air on lunch hours. I absolutely loved those woods, because once I hit the gravel, the tension from work just evaporated. On nice days, there were lots of people walking, running or eating lunch on the benches that were placed in scenic areas. And for a couple of years, I walked those paths two or three times a week through spring, summer and fall.

Part of the attraction for me was the abundance of beautiful shade-loving wild flowers, including Jack-in-the-pulpit, Mayapple, Tiger Lily, Trillium, Trout Lily, Lily-of-the-Valley and more. Oh, how I wanted some of those flowers in my yard. Unfortunately, in Michigan, it’s illegal to dig up wild flowers. But, I’m ashamed to say, I packed a brown lunch bag with a trowel and a Ziplock bag with a wet paper towel inside it to keep the roots happy. And my walking partner and I hit the woods, looking like we were going to have lunch out there.

When we got to the various areas where we wanted to dig up flowers, we’d listen for other walkers, as I dug up what I wanted. Every few minutes, I’d have to stop, hurry over to the bench and act like I was getting ready to pull a sandwich out of my lunch bag. When the coast was clear again, I’d resume my covert operation. I rationalized that I was just moving them to another wooded area, as our yard backs up to woods that separate our sub from the one north of us. And I knew that I’d take excellent care of those plants. So what harm would come from my crime?

That evening, after work, I lovingly planted those wild flowers in my yard, in the shade just beyond the trees at the edge of the woods. And by the next morning, most of the Trillium flowers had been chopped off by sharp little teeth. I don’t know for sure if it was the deer or the groundhog family that we suspected lived under our deck. By the next day, the rest of the Trillium flowers were gone, as well as some of the other transplants. All that remain today, more than 10 years later, are the Lilies of the Valley.

Forget about turning me in – I’m sure the statute of limitations on wild flower theft has run out. And I learned my lesson. I’ll never do it again. But I think I’ll sneak back into those woods again this spring, because I’d like to see that spectacular wild flower show just one more time.

Photo by: yuki_september©
Title: Lily of the valley
http://www.flickr.com/photos/yuki_sept/4580512369/

Crime Doesn't Pay - Stealing Wild Flowers

Happy New Year - Pull Out Those Guns!!

What’s happening to this country? I live in an upscale Detroit suburb, a neighborhood where, for the most part, neighbors coexist peacefully and life is good. In the 15 years that I’ve been in this house, there’s been only a smattering of guns fired on New Year’s Eve. I used to think it was a few drunken idiots doing what idiots do. But last night made my blood run cold. I heard so many guns firing that our sub could’ve competed with the worst areas of Detroit. It made me sick. I wouldn’t even let the dog out until 1:00 a.m., fearing she’d get shot. WTF?!

This country is alone in the industrialized world in promoting the widespread ownership of firearms. I won’t even talk about the gun lobby, because I’m not a violent person, but my wishes for those twisted people are definitely from my dark side. We are going to regret caving in to them 100 times over. Just think about what’s going on here.

I’m constantly hearing how just about anyone can buy a gun. There are exposes on TV shows about how individuals get caught selling guns to people without permits, or in one case that I saw recently, without even a driver’s license. Individuals apparently don’t have to do background checks, so any nut case can get a gun.

And what’s a typical gun buyer like? The NRA would tell you it’s a law-abiding citizen trying to protect his or her property. Bull shit! Have you gone into a gun shop or sporting goods store to see what kind of people are looking at guns? I’d love to see detailed stats on gun buyers, because I believe they’re largely uneducated people, many of whom surely have personality issues (anger, obsessive-compulsive, paranoia, post traumatic stress disorder from the horrors of war, etc., etc.). Are those the people you want walking around with guns? Spend a little time at a gun counter, especially one in a more rural location. It’ll open your eyes.

Of course, the typical gun owner is male, although plenty of women are succumbing to the gun lobby’s scare tactics. To a lot of men, guns are power. And it’s the best ever phallic symbol. Hell, if you have a gun, you don’t need any enhancements, if you know what I mean. It gives some of them that “mine’s bigger than yours” warm and cozy feeling. And it allows them to be the shoot ‘em up cowboy of their childhood whenever they feel the urge.

I know of people who have three guns within reach at all times in their homes. And they live in decent neighborhoods. What in hell are they preparing for? If they’re going to get robbed, it’s most likely to be when they’re not at home. And guess what’ll end up stolen – yep, their weapons, so that the thieves can use them to commit other crimes.

Obviously, most of these guns aren’t for hunting – they’re strictly intended to use on people. That’s not to say I think hunting is fine. For me, unless your family doesn’t have enough food, and you’re hunting to put meat on the table, it’s wrong. Some Christians say that God put animals on earth for us to use. So he created bears, so that you can mount a bear head on your wall? Yeah, that makes sense to me. I wonder how your God will judge you for killing his creatures because you think blowing them away is a “sport.” I’d love to hear that conversation.

Finally, Michigan’s become known for its crack-pot militia groups. Have you ever read or watched an interview with any of those people? That’ll keep you awake nights. Yes, we’re going to regret that the gun lobby has prevailed, when the original right to bear arms was because we lived in a newly-settled and uncivilized land. Back then, the guns protected and fed the settlers. Now the citizens need to be protected from the guns. God help us.

Happy New Year - Pull Out Those Guns!!

Babysitting a King Charles Cavalier Puppy

This past weekend, I had the pleasure of babysitting a friend’s King Charles Cavalier puppy. Lilli’s absolutely adorable, and I was SO excited to have her here. Her mom dropped her off on Thursday evening and would be picking her up sometime on Sunday. I’d initially planned to do some writing and to start decorating the house for Christmas, thinking my husband would be there to help with Lilli. But he ending up going out of town on business until Saturday evening, so I was on my own.

Let me start by saying that no writing took place, and I didn’t do any Christmas decorating, either. Somehow, I’d forgotten what it’s like to have a puppy around. She got into everything. And she put it all into her mouth. I must have pulled at least five forbidden items from her mouth, including a paperclip and part of a golf shoe cleat. I don’t even know how a golf shoe cleat came to be in the house.

By the end of the day, after Lilli had been here only six hours, I was wiped out and decided to go to sleep early. Her mom had told me that Lilli slept with her and that she loves to cuddle. Well, Lilli ended up sleeping on my pillow, wrapped around the top of my head. I kept moving her, but she kept coming back. I ended up getting less than three hours of sleep that first night. And I had a stiff neck from the way I had to stay crunched up, so that she wouldn’t be pushed into the headboard.

On Friday and Saturday, it was impossible to do anything, because she wanted to be picked up, or she wanted me to throw toys to her. If I was moving from room to room, she was literally under my feet. Thank God for our dog, Maddie, who played with Lilli much of the time. The only time I got her to rest was when I watched television for an hour. She was content to lie on the sofa next to me and sleep. Otherwise, she was in constant motion.

And she was funny as hell! She barked at her reflection in the fireplace glass. In our little office, she spotted some Beanie Babies on the floor, and she barked and charged at them, until she finally figured out that they weren’t alive. I laughed a LOT last weekend! She challenged my Amazon parrot to a fight by barking incessantly every time she saw him. I had to watch them, because he climbed down his cage and was hanging off the stand, trying to reach her. Like I said, I couldn’t take my eyes off her for even a minute.

And probably because she was in a new environment, she had accidents. I mean she really had accidents. By Saturday evening, she’d peed in five different rooms and had also pooped five times in four rooms. And I was taking her outside at least every two hours! But then, a few hours after my husband came home from his business trip, Lilli outdid herself.

I was folding towels in the bedroom, and I had Lilli sitting on the bed, so that I could keep an eye on her. As I looked up from my laundry task, I saw Lilli squat. Realizing that she was about to pee, I said, “Lilli, NO!” Well, that scared her, so she started squirming to get away from me, peeing as she moved. I ended up having to wash the sheets, mattress pad, a down blanket, a fleece blanket and a pillow. I couldn’t believe what had just happened.

We were finally able to go to bed at 3:00 a.m. All my husband said was, “I thought she was housebroken.” Hopefully, it’ll be years before he finds out that Lilli also chewed the molding on the bottom of an antique desk. (I colored it with one of those furniture fixing pens.)

I love Lilli, and her mom’s a good friend, but I think I’m going to hold off on babysitting her until she’s at least a year old. For one thing, we’re getting new carpeting soon – need I say more? And I’d rather wait ‘til Lilli gets past that high-maintenance puppy stage, so I can really enjoy her.

Photo by Dedi Sharabi
Title: Bojan
http://www.flickr.com/photos/dedish/4177023692/in/photostream/

Babysitting a King Charles Cavalier Puppy

Communicating with Dementia Patients

I wrote this article for Type-A Parent (http://typeaparent.com/) and thought it was important enough to repeat on my blog. As the population ages, dementia is becoming a huge problem. And the woman in the article has found a way to communicate with dementia patients, even after they stop speaking.

Here’s a link to the article:

http://www.parade.com/health/2010/11/21-unlocking-the-silent-prison.html

It’s frustrating for grandchildren of any age to witness a beloved grandmother going downhill because of dementia. Unfortunately, lots of young people don’t visit their grandmothers because they’re uncomfortable with the disease. They often don’t know whether to attempt a conversation, or what to say when they do. It’s especially difficult for the young, because they usually haven’t had much exposure to dementia.

Well, Michelle S. Bourgeois, a speech-pathology professor at Ohio State, has come up with a method of making those conversations go a little more smoothly. According to an article in the November 21, 2010, issue of Parade Magazine, Bourgeois discovered that Alzheimer’s disease first strikes the part of the brain that controls learning and memory processes. But, because reading is a skill that becomes automatic, after doing it all our lives, patients are often still able to understand simple printed explanations.

For example, while volunteering for hospice, I had a patient who would ask about every five minutes when her daughter would return home. Bourgeois suggests using flash cards with simple messages printed on them. So I could have printed “Your daughter will be home at 6:00” in large letters. And in many cases, patients understand the message and stop asking so often. If they do repeat the question, simply tell them that the answer is on the card.

Reading can help even in cases of anger and anxiety in people with dementia. Bourgeois tells of a situation where the patient refused to shower. So her aide made a card that read, “Showers make me feel fresh and clean” and gave it to the patient when it was time to shower. It actually worked. Bourgeois said, “Even when dementia is so advanced that people cannot speak, they can read if the words are large enough.” She goes on to say that spoken words aren’t stored in memory, so they’re ineffective.

In another situation, Bourgeois tells of a patient who told her daughter, “You’re not my Susan.” So the daughter gave her mother two photos, with notes written under them. One said, “This is my daughter Susan at age three.” And the other note said, “This is my daughter Susan now.” When the patient looked at the two photos and notes, she replied, “As beautiful as ever.”

I am really excited about this and will definitely try it with my next dementia patient. I’ll also share the Parade article with my patients’ caregivers and the hospice organization for which I volunteer. (In the meantime, if any caregivers out there try this with a dementia patient, I’d love to know if it was successful.)
But I’m writing about it here, because it would be tragic for grandchildren to stop visiting grandmothers afflicted with dementia. Bourgeois says that people tend to treat these patients as if they’re not the persons they were, “But they’re still here.”

http://typeaparent.com/spending-time-with-grandmothers-who-have-dementia.html

Photo by: Charlmers Butterfield©
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/User:Sba2
Title: Elderly Woman

Communicating with Dementia Patients

Christmas is Shrinking at Our House

Where did this year go?! Everybody always says that as we get older, time passes ever more quickly. But I didn’t expect it to be like this! I need more time to “do” Christmas the way I usually do it – 4½ trees (two 6-foot, a 7-foot, a 12-foot and a 4-footer that stands on a table in the vestibule); garland everywhere; snowman, Santa, nutcracker and Baccarat collections; holiday dishes and glasses, etc., etc. But why? What in hell was I thinking?!

I had become a slave to the season, making my house into a shrine to the retail gods. Don’t get me wrong – people say I haven’t crossed the line between festive and gaudy. But the amount of time I’ve invested in the decorating and the money spent on some of those ornaments . . . well, it’s just insane. But I’m through with that! We already gave away two trees, and I’ve decided to give away lots of house decorations and tree ornaments.

I also gave away several nutcrackers, and now I’m going to dramatically thin out the snowman and Santa collections. Oh, and I forgot about the Snow Babies. When I started buying all this stuff 100 years ago, I told myself it was an investment, that I’d sell them one day and make a small fortune. Uh-huh. Now eBay’s driven down the price of just about everything, and I can’t even get what I paid for those collectibles, in some cases, over 30 years ago. Since there’s not much use in trying to sell them, I’ll be giving them to family members. I hope they’ll take good care of all my little gems.

Will I miss it? I don’t think so. My nieces and nephews liked it when they were younger, and I enjoyed seeing their eyes widen as they took it all in. But, except for three 8-year-olds, they’re grown and past being impressed by Christmas glitz. And my son, who used to love it, says that he’s become indifferent to all the trappings of Christmas. (Over-kill on my part?) But this year I think he’ll like that his mom will be much more relaxed and easygoing. And that will be a gift to everybody here!

Photo by Sandy Laurence©

Christmas is Shrinking at Our House

The End of an Unhappy Life

A man with whom I used to work died recently. I read the obituary in the newspaper, and I felt nothing. Now that’s very much unlike me, since I cry at funerals when I don’t even know the deceased. But I’m not grieving for the person who died, the person I never knew. No, I’m crying for my friend or co-worker who lost a loved one, because I’m feeling his or her pain. But not in this case.

I briefly worked in John’s department, although, thankfully, not for him. The people who did work for him had to constantly tiptoe around his feelings of insecurity or risk an attack. They either kissed his ass to stay on his good side, or he saw them as threats to his authority and set out to get them. He was a classic bully, always targeting those who were vulnerable.

While I was there, he had three “whipping boys.” One was a defenseless little old guy who got so flustered over the constant public tirades that his face glowed red, until we thought he was on the verge of a stroke. Another was technically competent, but socially inept, and John would treat him like his best buddy one minute and then viciously abuse him verbally an hour later.

His third victim was actually a kindly older woman. She was fiercely loyal to John, until the day when a couple of executives from another company came in to meet with him. Apparently, a minor problem came to light, and John walked over to the woman’s desk and started shouting at her in front of the guests until she began to cry. He walked away from her with a self-satisfied expression, just short of a grin, on his face, like he was on a power trip.

I saw many of John’s ugly displays and had absolutely no respect for the man. But there was more. He had two sons, and when the youngest was in college, John and his wife decided they didn’t like his then girlfriend, who later became his wife. Nobody knew the exact details, but John and his wife cut off all communication with their son. And John seemed proud of the fact that they weren’t going to accept the woman into their family. Eventually, we heard that they were no longer speaking with their older son either. And the last I heard, they had grandchildren they’d never met.

I wonder now if John and his wife ever reconciled with their sons. Maybe his death brought them back in touch with their mother. And maybe not. All I know is that this is the first time I’ve felt absolutely nothing over the death of someone I knew. I actually think he made the world a better place by leaving it. How very sad.

The End of an Unhappy Life