October 9 2012

Yom Kippur 2012 with Mom: I had flown in the week before when Mom was admitted to the hospital, as she’d been complaining for a while about shortness of breath and tiredness. I felt for well over a week before that something was going wrong, but at distance of 700 miles it’s hard to be forceful with relatives on the ground, including Mom. After six very scary days in hospital, where she was diagnosed with pneumonia as well as congestive heart failure (leaky valves that apparently had been going bad for a while), she was moved to Whitehall rehab facility, oxygen tank and all. My emergency medical flight booking had me flying home at 6 a.m. the day of Yom Kippur, but I didn’t bother with that at first as I knew from previous sad experiences I could change that when I knew what was more likely. (And that’s another whole story itself; later).

Erev Yom Kippur, Mom had only had a day of therapies and was by now on antibiotics for the pneumonia, but was already feeling better enough to begin to worry about having to eat, and do the three times a day therapy, on the holiest day of the Jewish calendar. Of course she knew she had to do what was necessary for her health, but it weighed heavily on her nonetheless. We knew there would be some attempt at something for the holiday at Whitehall (NOT a Jewish facility) and traditional services at Gidwitz, but what they were and what times were uncertain. So on Wednesday the 26th, Erev Yom Kippur, we planned to go to a 2 p.m. event at Whitehall, and scheduled her therapies around this. It turned out to be a lecture on Chicago, not at all what we hoped. Mom and I were not happy… Then I noticed that at 4 p.m. someone was doing something related to the holiday, and as her therapies finished earlier, we decided to try it out. I had already promised Mom that whatever wasn’t done at Whitehall that she felt important, we would do together, using the same books my parents had always used for the High Holidays, their names still on the books I remember from my childhood. As it happened, that 4 p.m. event was really meaningful. A woman whose husband was a patient brought in a tape of Cantor Mizrachi singing Kol Nidre, the beautiful prayer about oaths, with an equally wonderful choir. There were perhaps a dozen people gathered in the small sunroom, about 25% who clearly had no idea where they were, another 25% with visible serious physical problems as well as some dementia, and the remaining folks much like Mom, mentally intact but physically in rough shape. As I looked at these (all older) folks, once again I was struck by the poignancy of their thinning hair, swollen or missing limbs, involuntary movements and articulations that they could no longer control. And I was struck once again, as always when I am lucky enough to daven with the seniors (and by that I mean really senior, as I of course at 66 am a less senior senior myself) that each of these people were once vigorous and presumably full of hope, once loved by someone as much as I love Mom, once in control of their lives and probably other people’s as well. And now – here we sit, listening to our ancient prayers, some no longer capable of even holding a book, but nodding with eyes closed to the tunes passed down through the generations. It was truly beautiful and moving, especially at the end when the woman who brought the tape asked for a moment more, to read a modern but equally moving prayer that spoke about those not able to fast, not able to keep this holiday as they used to, not because of lack of faith but sadly because their bodies can no longer do as they wish. It was a comfort to me, and I hope to Mom too.

Soon after that, Mom’s dinner was brought to her room, and I drove back to Gidwitz to microwave something quickly, and was back in about half an hour to do as I had promised, pray the Kol Nidre service somehow with Mom. My main concern was to find a quiet place with decent light, so we could at least read in English what we weren’t up to chanting in the Hebrew (and that was LOTS of passages, though of course Mom remembered more than I!). I pushed Mom’s wheelchair, with the portable oxygen tank, both prayer books, and a box of tissues (we always cry) down to the end of a very long hallway, and parked her right under a bright light, dragging a chair from one of the lounges next to her. We opened our books, and began to take turns reading in English, and Hebrew as best we could. We had been at this for barely ten minutes when my choice of venue revealed itself to be a poor one. First, someone started shampooing the hall rug at the opposite end of the hall, coming ever neared and louder; the noise was very loud, but we persisted. Next, the intercom I hadn’t noticed began to go off at regular intervals, announcing pretty much everything any staff member was doing, should be doing, or was scheduled to do. We blew our noses and kept on. When we reached the “Al Cheit”, the prayer listing sins we may have committed, it’s traditional to lightly strike one’s heart at each sin, and so we did, to the accompanying roar of the shampoo machine and the counterpoint of announcements.

It was then I noticed a woman (apparently visiting someone in the last room of this hallway) staring at us, and thought that she must think we are crazy people. But I was wrong (though we may in fact be crazy people), as she came over with tears in her eyes and asked if we minded that she listen. Of course we invited her to join us, and though she didn’t sit down, she stayed until we had finished that prayer and thanked us. I can only assume that this was a Jewish soul with her own deep sorrow, alone on this special night except for whomever she was visiting; and that it was a real privilege for me to be with her, and Mom. After about an hour and a half, when we were doing one of the repetitions of “Al Cheit”, it seemed to me that Mom had had enough, and needed to get back to bed rest. She agreed, so I wheeled her back to her room, waited until she was put in bed by a staffer and had the portable oxygen swapped back to the standing unit, and then drove back to Gidwitz. And I was thinking that here I had just declared my sins, and before the holiday was half over, had already committed new ones: driving, turning on lights, riding in an elevator, drinking water – no wonder I sobbed over the “Al Cheit”! The apartment was dark, as I only had one light on, and in the silence of the night my father, and my grandparents, and all my beloved family and friends who have passed on seemed very close.

The next morning, I went to the Gidwitz service for Yizkor, as I promised Mom I would do, for my father, grandparents, and all of Mom’s six siblings. As usually happens, the service was running late, and packed, but my friend Lou, who eats breakfast with Mom, made the person sitting next to him get up and give me that seat. While Lou is nothing at all like my father in looks or personality, he wears the same large tallis, folded over his shoulders the same way, and it was very comforting to me. When I named out my beloved dead, and he, his, we held each other’s hands. Again I felt what a blessing, and honor, it was to be among these people, who knew my father (in fewer and fewer cases) and know my mother. As soon as these services ended, I drove to Whitehall to take Mom to the one, dedicated, specifically planned Yom Kippur service there. It will tell you all you need to know about the service that when the time came to blow the shofar, which the man leading the service did not bring, he just read out: tekia, terua.. Not what we hoped, not what we had expected. He just very quickly read, in English, parts of the service. But – the woman who brought the tape, and her husband, sat next to us. And when we came to a prayer that we all knew the Hebrew words to, and the tune, we just all four sang out right over whatever else was or wasn’t happening, until we were satisfied. I’m grateful and glad we had two more voices to join ours; Mom still sounds pretty good but at this stage of my life I have a three-note capacity, and everything else is just squeaks.

That service being finished, my sister joined us and we three went in search again for a private, quiet place to pray the Yizkor service with Mom. This time we had better luck, no shampooing, no noises, we sat in a corner of the large room where the other services had been held, and went through the books again. It was heartbreaking to hear Mom slowly name each of her siblings in Hebrew, both her parents, and of course Daddy, when all three of us just sobbed and sobbed. But even as I was crying, I was also conscious of the fact that my mother’s absolute determination to perform whatever she could for this holiday is such a positive teaching for me, my sister, and you with whom I share this. Though very worn down by her illness, and worried about the future as well as mourning the loved ones of the past, Mom never really faltered in her prayers, as her faith never falters in her heart. And I am sure, as there is a just Gd in Heaven, that Mom’s prayers must have been heard. I just hope my own tagged along on her merit.

August 31 2012

Today is Mom's 93rd birthday!!! And while Brian and I are sorry not to be able to join the celebration, we know she'll have a lovely party surrounded by her grandchildren and great-grandchildren at my sister and brother-in-law's house tonight. I am delighted to report she continues to do well, is very consistant with her rehab exercises, and all in all is still the role model I aspire to emulate. Happy happy, Mom, we all love you!


And it's also two years this month that Sadie returned to us from her less than happy adoption attempt. She has become such a fixture in my life, I can't imagine this house without her. And while we're on the Sadie Subject, she took her first (and probably last) overnight road trip with us this month. Brian's old friend Harvey was kind enough to invite all three of us to stay with him at his beachfront home in Connecticut.


While I loved walking along the ocean, and became rather obsessed with collecting the "golden" shells Harvey distracts his grandchildren with,
















Sadie apparently had some concerns that she was going to be left behind. She would not let me out of her sight, and if I moved from one chair to another, she did too. And the night we stayed over, there was a terrific series of thunderstorms that shook the rafters and had me dressing and undressing Sadie in her thundershirt all night long.

The thundershirt does work, at least to the extent that while she still occasionally shakes, I no longer have to spend the entire storm time down on the floor with her wrapped in my arms, covered with drool and wondering how much longer my back can hold out! It's a huge improvement; any of you dog folks that want more information, just let me know. And to make the whole experiment even sweeter, the thundershirt was a gift from Sadie's doting uncles. It does take the entire ABR village to raise this girl!

And now, for the garden news. This has been a really strange year, for the first time EVER the deer have actually eaten the bergamot in the lower terraces, put there almost eight years ago and unmunched till now as something deer just wouldn't eat.
And even stranger, they haven't eaten the water lillies (yet!) which usually don't even get to show much bloom before they are gone.This year almost half the pond was taken over by some tall lillies, which I thought were completely eaten up last year, when I found what was left of them floating forlornly on the surface. I took a stick and poked back what I could into the pond muck - and voila!
























And to wrap it all up, the vegetable crop this year includes eighteen inch cucumbers (we had NONE last year), more tomatoes than we can eat, both fried green and bright red, and the best chili crop I've ever grown! The zucchini was a complete bust for the third year in a row, so I am really done with that. The basil crop was good, not quite as much as last year, and our two remaining eggplant plants are trying hard to carry on, their third sibling having already been eaten by unknown bugs right down to the ground. Neither beer in trays, nor pennies, seem to deter them much. And outside the garden cage, in our compost heap, we currently have three or four volunteer tomato plants (again, not eaten by deer, which really confuses me) and the beginnings of some tiny potatoes. As we careen into the Labor Day weekend, we send you all our love and hope everyone has a happy and peaceful time. We will be content here munching our vegetables, petting our dog, and eating up the latest of our dear friend Janet's delightful pound cake presents. Nice!!!

July 20 2012

Here we are, Sadie and I in our temporarily testosterone-free zone since I put Brian on the plane yesterday to L.A. Cara and Chris sent him a ticket to spend a week with them, getting reacquainted with his grandsons. Should be fun for him, and there will be a birthday party while he's there as well - Dashy, the middle boy, is turning six.

Other very happy news is that my mother is going home on Monday, doing very very well walking long distances with her walker, and best of all, is mostly pain-free. Of course everyone at the rehab facility was impressed, she is always their star patient, and always does way more than anyone expects. I am so lucky she's my mom!

Now for the garden news: from several days ago when the temperatures broke 100, here's a shot of our pond with water lilies and frog. It looks so peaceful, and the trickle of water that feeds it (yes, so far, even in the drought there's a trickle) is very soothing.

And here's my home-grown proof of global warming: the gladiolas are blooming again for the third year in a row, NOT having been dug up for the winter as I did for our first few years here. Glads are originally a South American plant, so it made sense to me to dig, especially since everyone we know who's lived here longer has always done so. But after a few years, there were less and less bulbs to dig up, as critters were always munching away; or it was too wet and they rotted; or something else happened. So I believed I had lost them all despite my care. And then, several summers ago, there they were, blooming from bits of bulbs that had survived. Now I just cover their bed with a thick layer of leaves in the fall, and uncover in the late spring (having rounded up all the volunteers and anally replanted them to my calligrapher's satisfaction).

Our vegetable garden is finally producing, we have an abundance of cucumbers where we had none at all last year. Lots of lettuce still, lots of basil, and both the tomato and pepper plants have very large vegetables on them, just not quite ready to pick yet. And as today, in the rain, the thermometer never got above 65, it may be a while yet...

Also very welcome was our garlic harvest. Did you know the swirly tops are called "scapes" and considered a delicacy? I didn't - but once I read about it, I went and salvaged what I'd tossed on top of the compost heap (it was just a few minutes, really!), sliced as directed and fried. They were very tasty! And the garlic themselves are really pungent. I'll save the last one to replant for next year.

That's the news from here. More when we harvest the rest of the treats!

June 19 2012

It's that time of year again - peony season is just about over, but as you can see, it was a great season. I was wondering if the very mild winter would affect the blooms, and while some plants seemed to indeed be affected, not these! Right now we're careening from 90's to 40's and back again regularly. Today I'm wearing a sweatshirt INSIDE but tomorrow it's predicted to be in the upper 90's. Our vegetables are not happy, though, they really need less change and more moderation (don't we all???).There are buds on most of the ecchinacea and day lilies and a few other nameless plants, but as the nights are cool they just haven't bloomed yet. So color in the gardnes is sparse right now. In the lower terracing, only the salvia is blooming now.






On the south side of the house, the hardy nasturtiums just started blooming. Last year they bloomed right through November, earning an eternal spot in my heart thank you, Jerry, for the seeds).







And on the upper driveway the primrose have really taken hold this year. Can you see how the piliated woodpecker has decimated the old tree stump? He spent most of last summer and fall jack-hammering daily... At least we didn't have to do anything about it, unlike our neighbors, whose window sashes were completely destroyed. I guess that's what you get for not leaving tasty large rotting logs around.









A week or so after Brian's birthday party, old friends who couldn't make it were coming through the area, so we had another smaller but equally happy gathering. I include this picture mostly as it's the only one I've been able to get of Sadie in her summer "do". As an extra attraction for me, Roger and Kay brought an ice cream cake instead of the requested fruit. Any time is a good time for ice cream!



And instead of doggie updates, as there are none, here are five of the dozen cats I "sat" for our neighbors for ten days while they went on vacation. The first couple of days were pretty hectic, not that the cats were anything but loving, but truly, herding cats is an exercise in frustration. As seven of the dozen are officially inside cats, my job mainly consisted of walking across the street several times after dinner yelling "kitty kitty kitty" and then trying to get whoever was cooperative enough to show up in the door without letting two others out. Plus one of the guys (Mr. Mushie, the HUGE black cat I always referred to as "Budda") is quite the projectile pee-er. There is a three foot perimeter of incontenance pads around the three very large cat boxes, and a good day was having to change them only twice. Several times just as I was going out the door, Budda graciously resquirted all the clean new pads; so back into the fray I went, with gloves, mask, and giant sized garbage bags. But I am absolutely not complaining; not only did I get to know them all very well, but it was my only paid gig in May. Unfortunately my dear calligraphy students are currently beset by fairly scary health concerns, so we're on hold till everybody is certified healthy again.

Next week I will go back to Mom's, as she is finally scheduled for her second hip replacement surgery (delayed far too long because of her fall earlier this year). She is such a trooper, even though the pain is severe enough now to have confined her to a wheelchair with aides in 24/7 until the surgical date (June 25). I can only hope that it will go as well as the first, couldn't ask for a better outcome. All prayers/thoughts/hopes welcome!

And this Friday will be the fifth (American) anniversary of my father's death. It's striking that for so many years when I was living at home, my dad, who came from Poland at age six on his father's passport, never had an official birth certificate (so I guess he really couldn't have been president). So we always celebrated twice, on December 27 for the American one, and the last night of Hanuka for the Hebrew. Eventually my mother realized that while great fun for Dad, pretty soon her daughters were going to request two birthdays, and put a stop to it. Now all these decades later, on the much sadder occasion of his yartzheit, we still have that duality going on. I'll light a candle this Thursday night, ahead of his June 22 anniversary, and again next Wednesday for the Hebrew calendar. And because the two calendars rarely coincide, I am struck that this year is the first time since he died in 2007 that June 22 is a Friday, just as it was when he left. And next Friday night I'll go to services at Gidwitz, the last congregation he participated in, where the Shabbos reading is Chukot, the very parsha read the weekend he left. Somehow this seems not only significant but very comforting to me. That's the very long of it from here. I hope all goes well there and that each of you is having the summer you want, with the folks you like best. More anon...

May 27 2012

It's Brian's birthday! Today is the actual date, and here's Brian at 70 with a table full of lovely plants sent by family and flowers from our garden to cheer his day. The big birthday party was last week, to get a head start on the holiday weekend, and as you can see from these photos (and I won't put ALL of them up!!) we had a wonderful time. The weather cooperated after five or six days of rain, then the sun came out for the weekend and the sky was as bright blue as Brian's eyes.

Lots of lively conversation,
















lots of delicious food,




















lots of shared laughter. And the shot showing Brian with several men include men who were boys at Brian's 7th birthday party. Pretty amazing to have kept in touch all these decades later.
































Hyla and Ayro had the most fun down at the frog pond, where the hunt is always on. Lisa actually did catch a frog in the net, but of course it leapt right back out to continue it's froggy life in the murky depths. But it's fun for the girls, and a real pleasure to watch them watching the frogs.

















































My favorite shot, though, was the two of them running along the upper terracing "grandchildren's path", looking just like little wood sprites.














At the party's end, happy but rather tired, I took this last shot of the table after everyone left and most of the stuff was stowed (please note the cake with colorful sprinkles, Hyla and Ayro made it for grandpa with I suspect a little help from their parents). Everyone including Sadie had such a nice time, we are so appreciative of all the folks who made the effort to help us celebrate, from Rochester, New York City, Connecticut, and elsewhere. Thanks to all!!! Now I just have to get used to the idea that I'm married to someone who's 70!!!

May 2 2012

Just to let you know what's going on, ahead of Brian's big 70th birthday party later this month:

First, Mom is home again and doing better than we feared. She is going to have PT and OT at the apartment for a while, and is always very good at keeping up with the exercises she's been given, so I'm hopeful the improvments she's made will persist. And, of course, thanks to all who were so supportive and concerned during this latest crisis. Your prayers were very welcome!


In garden news, after a very warm (VERY WARM) March, April was much cooler (except for our single 100 degree day) and now that May's begun, we've had lots of much-needed rain. The plants continue to confound.
My carefully planted bleeding hearts in the lower terraces either didn't survive at all, or are just a few inches high as you can see.

While the self-seeded ones, in cracks of the stone walls, jammed in to other planting beds, and everywhere else they don't have a visible toe-hold (root-hold?) are thriving. Go figure...



The lily of the valley plants are tumbling open everywhere. I wish I could send the scent along, it's one of my favorites and I love being able to make tiny arrangements with them that scent the rooms as I walk by. Too bad there's no "smellovision"!



















The very first of the bearded iris opened up too, little dwarves with lovely edging.













Also for your viewing pleasure, a shot of our hostas BEFORE the deer come and munch them down to the ground. Some years are better than others, but we're always grateful for whatever plantings the critters leave behind for us.








I put out a half dozen tomato plants weeks ago, and then had to cover them up with cartons three nights running to protect them from the frost. Finally we are predicted to have nights above freezing, so yesterday my chilies (for rellenos) got put in the ground, joining the arugula, lettuce, and garlic that wintered over. Still to get: basil, chard, eggplant, zucchini (remember when a single zucchini plant produced more than could be given away? it's now a delicacy costing about as much per pound as mushrooms!)

We've cleared away all of last winter's dead weeds on the lower terracing, just in time for this year's to make their appearance. Wish I could teach the deer to eat weeds. And Brian's built some new bridges to get the wheelbarrow over, as the old ones were rotting. The new ones are much prettier, too.

In the dog news, I was part of the team that found little Taylor her "forever" home. Her new family decided to change her name to Honey, and are transitioning by calling her "Taylor Honey", which, as these are Texans all, sounds about right to me.

















That's the wrap-up for now. Hope all goes well with all of you - send us your news!

April 11 2012

Update April 11: Before I could post the riveting news below, I was called back to my mother's side on March 28, when she fell and was taken to Highland Park Hospital. I stayed with her until April 3, when she was well enough so that I was able to fly back home (but of course not without concerns). By then, Mom had been moved to Whitehall, a rehabilitation center she's been at before with very good results. As of now, Mom's been taken off oxygen (finally!), is getting PT twice a day and OT once, and making good progress. My sister and brother-in-law got back from California the night before I left, and the grandchildren have been truly wonderful about visiting, calling, and giving Mom the love and support she needs. I'm still not sure when she will be able to go back home, but hope it will be soon. Thanks to everyone who has been saying prayers for her - keep it up! And now, the pre-emergency news as it was then:

March 27 2012: I'm just recently back from spending a week with my remarkable mother at her assisted living center, where I'm still the youngest, and the fastest walker. However, more folks every trip are asking me when I moved in, so if I needed any proof that my grey hairs are proliferating, I now have it. Mom's spirit remains the same, and her mind is just as sharp as always. But unfortunately her body is not keeping pace. Just today she began P.T., and for the first time in months was somewhat encouraged, as the therapist thinks he can really help her mobility, if not the pain. And something's better than nothing. I did get to see my niece Kim and her son Cameron, my nephew Kevin and his twins Julia and Phoebe, and my sister and brother-in-law, so had a good dose of family.

I took an afternoon to visit my father's grave. Standing there approaching in my sixty-sixth year on the planet, I could recall so clearly the salesperson who came to our house when I was just sixteen, and how my sister and I could barely suppress our giggles as he talked about the "view" from this grave site. But I have to admit, all these decades later, that on that particular afternoon, with the sun shinning, the temperature an unbelievable 85 degrees, and birds singing in the nearby tree, the view was a comfort to me. Less comforting is looking at the empty places next to Dad, waiting for Mom, Brian, and I. It's a bit strange looking at the place I know I'll be buried in. But this is better than the fallback plan Brian and I made years ago, involving a rental truck, drive to the ocean, and illegal dumping. You don't need to know more...


Here at home, while we weren't as hot as the Chicago suburbs, it was also unseasonably warm for most of March. We had our own little mini-summer, nice but confusing to me and the plants as well. Right now we have jonquils and daffodils blooming,(the only thing that's close to on time) irises a good twelve inches out of the ground, and day lilies also up WAY too early. In the back terraces, the allium are up, the crocuses already bloomed and dying back, the peonies just poking through, ecchinacea as well, and the bergamot well on their way to taking over every terrace they are planted in. I wonder, though, as I see less blooms on the bulb plantings, whether the other flowering plants will also have less blooms. I know peonies in particular need cold weather to flourish, and we didn't have that at all this winter (and this is NOT a complaint, just an observation). Several of our evergreen ground cover and shrubs also look pretty pathetic, and I'm not sure if it's caused by lack of cold, lack of moisture (no snowpack to melt) or just general malaise. Time will tell, and then I'll tell you.












As for the dog news, in March I was part of only one successful adoption, but one is enough to keep me going. Lucky Carlin found his forever home with a man who can't wait to finish his training and go out into the great outdoors with his new best friend.







And sweet Sadie, now approaching her eleventh birthday, gave me a very Brittany greeting when I returned, lots of doggie singing and generously brought over each of her three toys to me, just to show me how glad she was that I was back. What a great girl, we are so lucky to have her!


And speaking of "lucky to have", here's Grandpa Brian having a really good time with his adorable granddaughters Hyla and Ayro. A very photogenic family!

My calligraphy students have just completed their second year, and this week we'll have our traditional calligraphers' pizza party. They stoically pursued Italic, our sixth alphabet, in deference to Rose Ellen who's waited over a year and a half (Italic was the reason she enrolled in the first class) while I insisted they do other, easier alphabets.




We were delayed almost every other week either because of weather, car problems, work conflicts, road work or trips, but finally we've covered lower case, caps and numbers. I'm continually impressed by their persistence, hard work, and delightful dispositions. They are wonderful students and women well worth knowing. And I think most of us (including me!) will be glad to go on to the next alphabet, a version of Rotunda that I'm far more comfortable teaching.