I love to fly. Airports are one of my favorite places to people watch. Honestly, as much as I like to read, paint and write, I believe I might like people watching the best. 'People watching' usually leads to my other three interests.It adds fuel to my fire. My trip to Florida was no exception.
I arrived at the airport without any trouble until I found out I had to park my car in the long-term parking area. This place happens to be in the middle of BFE. And no one knows for sure where that is---same with the airport long-term parking lots. After almost two hours of near misses, I find myself in the right lane, headed in the right direction. When I arrived there was no one there except 3 other people who were waiting to be picked up by the airport bus and taken to their intended destination to begin their journey. We shook hands and introduced ourselves. We made a few jokes then waited for the bus to pick us up. The bus was there soon. After making it through security, I proceeded to my gate, find a seat and make a quick scan of the people I would be flying with. I was early and there were only about five people there. I took my seat on the side of the wall facing the crowd. It did not take long for the usual nonsense to begin. It is always a different situation but it is still usually a hot mess in the making.
Sitting two rows over from me on the outside seat was a lady who clearly was about to have a meltdown. And meltdown she did. She was probably about ten years younger than me. Tears were flowing and she was crying out loud in a few minutes. I got up to walk over to her and two men from airport security walked rapidly down the hall and stopped at her seat. They began to talk softly but firmly to the loud crying woman. They were trying to calm her down without making a scene and to remove her from the airport. That is when I took a seat and began to take mental notes. With my memory condition, it is a fifty-fifty chance I will remember what happened. The way I look at the situation, it never hurts to try. I never did find out for sure how she got through security because she was most definitely on her way to being just this side of drunk. The two young security men asked her how much she had to drink. She told them, "Not much, one at six, one at seven, one at eight and one at nine. I wondered what she had been drinking. She was informed that she would not be flying today. She had already missed her plane. She began to sob and cry loudly. She was not a pretty crier. Her nose ran, she spits on the floor and began to call for help. She got help alright, just not what she intended. Four big security men came out of nowhere. That made six men to her lonesome self. She informed all the men to "step back and not to lay one hand on her. She had been raped before and if anyone touched her she would absolutely flip out on them." The men backed up and called for a woman security officer. No one came. She kept telling her life story. One young man connected with her on some level. He motioned for two of the men to step back out of sight. The two men standing by the officer in charge, moved back about twenty feet. I had to scoot over two seats because one of them was in my way. The point of contact officer asked her if she was thirsty. She was and one of the officers got her a glass of water. I was curious to see which of the officers would end up wearing the water. She was calming down and drank the water. Then the officer told her the airlines would put her up for the night and she could fly out tomorrow when she felt better. He had to show her the schedule, talk to his supervisors and finally the two of them walked away. The other officers followed about ten feet behind.
The next lady to become upset was an older looking hippie woman who told people what to do instead of asking. She informed the steward that she would be back in a minute and was leaving her carry on luggage by her chair, while she took her dog to pee. He informed her that, "no she was not leaving her carry on there". If she did it would be gone when she got back. What a hormonal day it was. This lady wheeled around and said, "That lady over there is my friend and she will watch my luggage." The lady and her husband looked at each other and said, "well ok." The woman threw her shawl over her shoulder, stuck her nose up in the air and her and her dog trotted off in the direction of relief. I got tickled and was laughing to myself as I thought about what all had just happened and we hadn't even boarded the plane.
Finally, it was time to leave. In less than three hours I would be in Florida. It was a beautiful flight until lightning struck our plane as we landed. But that is whole different story....
I do not belong in this century. After spending a week with Tami and my grandchildren, this fact has smacked me in the face once again. It is so true. I was sitting at the kitchen table while the kids were working on their homework. That is the only thing that hasn't changed, the kitchen table. However, if I had not been here they would have all been in their rooms. I asked them where their books were and I was informed they no longer use books they have I Pads. Really??? How can a person develop a love for the written word if they never hold or read, or smell a book? I am one of those people who highlight a wonderful sentence with a yellow high lighter. It can be done on these gadgets but I have yet to see it used. I reread books I can hold. They have become friends who brought me pleasure and answers when I needed them most.
I have a Kindle and it has about 400 books. Most of the books purchased in the last two years are about cancer, depression, anxiety, hope for patients, how to be a good caregiver and what to expect when it comes to dying. I read until I could not read anymore. I will never read these books again. I also do not think I will delete them. That was part of our lives for a long time.
We dropped that subject and they showed me their math or what- ever it is called now. I got up and fixed me a bowl of ice cream. I needed a stiff drink but ice cream would have to suffice. There is no way they could make me understand the necessity of why they had to learn what I saw before my eyes. I got up to go set on the front porch and ponder what I had witnessed at the table. They all understood it perfectly and it made sense to them. Thank goodness because in a few years they will be running the world.
When I came back in I told them I did not want a vacuum cleaner that will vacuum on demand. They have one now that is round and runs around the house like a grounded spaceship. They looked at each other and laughed. I did too. We coexist in two different worlds. I like mine better and they prefer theirs. That is fine with me. I am missing all the knowledge they already know. They are missing using their imaginations, daydreaming and wondering about all the what if's.
This generation is so much smarter than I am. However, they never experienced drinking homemade lemonade while sitting on a porch swing reading, "Gone With the Wind" on a hot July day.
It is a trade-off. They will make the world better and do things I never thought of doing. I, however, had a real childhood. They do too it is just miles and miles apart in this short time span on Earth.
There are a lot of things in life that cause me to be afraid. I think right now'fire' is at the top of the list. As we flew around Redding, I could see some of the different fires as they raged along, hungry and not particular about what was in their path. Destroying everything it chose to eat.
Then I remembered how huge that fire must be to be seen from an airplane miles far away from where it is slowly eating its way across the works of nature and of man.
After we landed in Portland, Melodi met me at the airport. We drove to Eugene, Organ where she lives. The next day we drove to Lacey's family on the Rogue River. We could smell the fire and see the smoke. I was surprised. Another fire had started twenty miles from where we lived. The smoke was drifting down the river. That fact bothered me. Seeing smoke from 35,000 feet is a lot different to a newbie like me than smelling smoke as it slowly followed the river. We had a wonderful day and I met and became reacquainted with some of Lacey's family. We had a wonderful time and laughed so much. Human nature is an odd little duck. The human race is tougher than most people give us credit for, and we can adapt to just about anything. The fires will be contained and extinguished. Some people will rebuild. New trees will be planted. And life will continue, in spite of the odds against us.
It was the summer of 1956 and hot as all blazes when I first met Aunt Fannie. This tiny woman was an aunt of my grandmother, Mamamae. She lived I think in Arkansas or Missouri. She was making her first and last trip to visit her dead sister's side of the family. What an impression she made on me that summer. She looked like a tiny Dresden doll. I thought she was the prettiest lady I had ever seen. She came from another century. It was just by accident she landed in our family; because she sure did not belong in Kentucky in July. If Aunt Fannie was 5 feet tall it was because she was wearing black laced-up leather boots with thick black stockings. Her dress was long and black and almost touched the floor. It had forty million tiny pearl buttons on the waistcoat of her dress. The sleeves of the dress were tailored snug and long, touching her small wrists. She always carried a white lace trimmed handkerchief. I never saw her sweat but she was always on the verge of fainting. She had long snow white hair that reached her waist when she brushed it at night. In the daytime, she wore it braided and wound in a small mountain on top of her head. I thought she was the prettiest person I had ever seen. She belonged in an old western movie, not in our house in Kentucky.
I think Aunt Fannie lived in the country and had an outhouse for a bathroom. I know using our bathroom made her nervous. So did the fact that we lived so close to Hwy 51. The traffic mesmerized her but it was also very frightening. Coupled with the fact we lived across the street from the jail and I may or may not have mentioned in passing that prisoners escaped all the time. She was nervous the week she stayed with us.
We took her to Columbus Park and to Cairo. Illinois to eat out. We also took her to see her nephew Noah who lived somewhere across the Mississippi River. Mama had been preparing me all week to meet Noah. She explained that he was very sick. He stayed in an iron tank flat on his back and the machine called an 'iron lung', did all of his breathing for him. I couldn't picture that in my mind. Something didn't sound right. When we arrived Mama told me to be very quiet and not ask a lot of questions. I remember I entered the room. The machine was huge and making all these pumping sounds. Then there would come a huge gust of air as the machine created another breath for Noah. He turned his head and smiled saying, "Glad to meet you Miss Vicky". I screamed and ran out of the room and out of the house crying. I remember I felt sorry for Noah but he scared me to death. Everything about that home was scary.
Nearly every home back then had a front porch to sit on and enjoy any breeze that might or might not occur. I set down on the steps and cried. I was ashamed I had screamed and scared Noah. Mama came out and set down to talk to me about polio, I think. I stayed on the porch and Mama went back inside to visit. Granddaddy had already had all the excitement he wanted for the day so he came out to visit with me. He smoked one Lucky Strike cigarette after the other for a few minutes. I guess we stayed a couple of hours. I never entered that house again. We left and took the ferry back across the river. I loved riding the ferry. It was the first time for Aunt Fannie. She really enjoyed it too. I bet it was also the first and only time she was as cool as the breeze that surrounded the boat. It felt wonderful.
As soon as Aunt Fanny arrived at Mamamae's home she had to go to the dreaded bathroom. When she was through, she could not open the bathroom door. We explained how the small lock worked but the more she tried to fix the door the upset she became. Finally, Grandaddy asked me if I could climb the ladder and crawl through the small bathroom window to open the door for Aunt Fannie. I was so excited about rescuing Aunt Fannie I forgot how tall the ladder was. Once I was in and the door unlocked Aunt Fannie announced that she would be leaving in the morning if a bus ran that day. Lucky for her it did and she got home and back in her comfort zone. I had not thought of Aunt Fannie in forty years until the other day when my old door on the laundry room locked and I could not get in. It was the same kind of lock. The house I live in was built in the 1880's. It has been remodeled and looks very modern and pretty. There are touches of the past here and there. I like that. I forgot about how the old doors worked. My landlord offered to replace the doors but I told him I liked them and touches of the past are nice. It was a good day to take a slow walk down memory lane. I enjoyed the memories. Noah's story became better for him. He married his nurse and she had a daughter. Life became better for everyone. Fall was just around the corner.
It is no secret that my mind is working less than perfect. Whatever professional people consider 'normal'. I happen to be a tad off. I have been assured that all of this will settle down and I will be fine with drugs, therapy, time and as the grieving process becomes less severe as time supposedly heals my broken heart. We shall see. I hope with all of my being they are right.
Yesterday started out a normal day. I was drinking coffee and enjoying the newspaper when I happened to remember that I needed to cancel my October's dr. appointment since I was going to be in Oregon. I called the nurse. canceled the appointment and made another one. No big deal until I look at the biggest calendar I could purchase laying on my kitchen table. It has become my lifeline where I write everything I have to do for that day and for the weeks ahead. I have birthday's, dr. appointments and enjoyable things I want to do but are farther down the road in time and I don't want to forget them. Imagine my surprise when I see it is July. I thought for a few minutes it was October. As far as I can remember, I have not had one 'July' day. I don't know what I have against the month of July but I have fought its existence all month. The month is nearly over and I have yet to get one thing right about July. It has not existed for me. That is about the time I remember canceling October's doctor appointment. I thought the appointment was next week. I knew I had to have that one. And my brain shuts down. In my mind when this happens, it is like trying to walk through a field knee-deep in mud, I can't keep my boots on because the mud sucks the boots off. I can't walk in the mud because there is no bottom where the mud stops. I panic because in my mind I have to be somewhere fast or something bad is gonna happen. Then everything gets all mixed up and I can't think of anything. It doesn't last long but it seems like an eternity to me. If I get my breathing under control, stop crying and breath then the muddy bubble will disappear, I will be better. It doesn't happen every day. I may have two or three 'normal days' and the Bam, I am right back to not knowing what I am supposed to be doing, It is the scariest thing I have ever gone through. It is tied up with Tommy's death, his horrible three years of being sick, my unexpected cancer surgery two weeks after he died, The doctors think that it may have something to do with the anesthesia they used for my surgery. They aren't sure how long this could affect the memory in older patients. It has been reported that this is not unusual for older people!!! And that is another thing...I do not feel old! In my mind, I am about 40. My knees and right hip disagree with that but that is their problem. One thing at a time. Right now my brain doesn't feel forty. Big deal...it doesn't know it is July either!!!
I have lived a sheltered life. As a new widow, I have found mundane things that I encounter to be as foreign as walking on the moon.
For instance, right after Tommy passed away, Lisa and I were in town on one of many trips to take care of some personal business. We were hungry and stopped at a restaurant to eat. Neither one of us paid any attention to a sign behind the counter that said, "We Only Take Cash or a Check". I had neither the cash or my checkbook with me. I usually pay my bill with my debit card.
We ordered our meal and it was delicious. Lisa proceeded to go to the bathroom and I walked up to the cash register and handed the man my debit card and bill. He is from Ukraine, I think, and in slightly broken Engish he explained the new rules to me. I looked at him and explained that I had neither enough cash or my checkbook with me. He smiled and said, "No problem, you can use the ATM machine." Hmmmm, I have never once in my life used an ATM machine. I walk over to the wall where the machine is and I look at it for a few minutes. I really did not know how to use it. I look at the man behind the counter and told him I needed help. He informed me that 'he could not help me'. That is when I informed him that we had a small problem. He informed me that "I had a problem". We looked at each other while I stifled the urge to walk over and hit him over the head with the cash register. I had a vivid picture of this in my mind's eye... in living color. However, jail did not seem to be the appropriate place I wanted to mourn, although I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, Tommy would have thought that was funny.
I turned around to the ATM machine. I thought I read the directions although they are vague. I think I must be one of the few people who had never used one. The ATM machine did not care. I tried to go through the proper steps and about that time my mind checked out because I was getting upset. I went totally blank. Could not process one coherent thought. This is what my brain does since Tommy has died. The doctors say it is the way the brain is protecting my mind when I get overwhelmed with life. They assure me I will be fine in time. However, my Ukrainian friend did not know this and he wanted his money. Thank God, about this time Lisa shows up and takes over. She knows how to use the ATM and she got our bill paid. The cashier was laughing. I asked him why he didn't come help me? He informed me I should have read the sign or use the ATM machine. He told me to have a good day. The church lady in me failed to show up before I flipped him off and marched out the door...never to return again. I still do not know how to use the ATM but I will...it is on the list right behind...stop letting your middle finger talk. I think I may have to tape that puppy down for awhile.
I am having a terrible amount of trouble getting anywhere on time. I am not exaggerating when I say my mind is full of memories. I can't remember squat in the present.
I have always been a dreamer but this is getting ridiculous. I never liked playing in left field.
I am attending on Tuesday morning a Women's Prayer group. It is a wonderful time of healing, except after five visits, I still do not know any of their names. I told them at the beginning how my life and memory happens to be right now. They understand.
Last Wednesday night I was going to church. I got it in my head it started at 7 p.m. I looked at my watch and it said 7:05. I live close to the church so I could be there in 5 minutes. Imagine my surprise when I get there and there are no cars. I saunter into the church and there was one young man in the room. I said is church starting late. He told me "No it starts at 6:30...you missed it". Last week I made it on time. I simply forgot what time I was supposed to be there this week.
Sunday morning I go to Sunday school and I am 10 minutes late. I crack open the door just a little bit and announce that I am late. Everyone started laughing as I walked through the door explaining what all is going on with me. I love that group of people---whoever they are.
My doctor assures me that this is normal for someone who has been through all that I have in a short period of time. He is confident I will be normal as soon as my mind and brain have had time to heal. That makes me feel better---I only wish I could remember his name too. Thank goodness I have his card.
P.S. I will also straighten up Willie Nelson as soon as I finish this blog. I swear it looked straight when I hung it!!!
