Tag Archives: Family

Family Treasures~Part 5

3 Jul

SUNDAY MEMORIES

Judy Wills

JUDY

 

 

Last time, I introduced some things that were in my Aunt Jessie’s house. Since she and Granny lived so close to us, I spent a great deal of time at her house. When she died, I wished I could have just taken everything in her house and put it in mine. But then Fred said, “where would we put it?” and I had to let it all go. That’s probably the hardest part of it all – letting it go.

Jessie’s house
The stair-step divider between the dining room and the living room – Christmas candles made by Jessie
Jessie and her Geisha dol
The table top was one piece of wood

As I mentioned before, Aunt Jessie never married, and so “things” became the focus of her life.

Jessie told me this was a Duncan Phyfe drop-leaf table.
An antique display cabinet – dressed for Christmas

 

Grandpa started her on the road to loving antiques, and she never quit. She would go to estate sales around Albuquerque and pick up what she wanted. Occasionally, I would go with her on these jaunts. She furnished her house with some REALLY good antique furniture. She was, at one time, the President of the Antique Club in Albuquerque. After she died, Mother was given the name of an estate auctioneer that might be of some help to us. He came to Jessie’s house, and his gaze was going from this-to-that the entire time he was talking to us. He finally blurted out: “this is some of the best Victorian I’ve ever seen!” Jessie really knew her stuff.

 

We held the auction – and the auctioneer suggested we hold it in her house, as it was the best setting to showcase what was there, and so we did. He advertised the auction in papers in New Mexico, Arizona, Texas, and Colorado. From what we understand, there were about 500 people who came for the auction – and they did, indeed, sell everything “down to the carpet.”

While I don’t have any of these antiques in my house now, here are some of the beautiful things Jessie had. We know they are scattered to four winds now, but we hope and pray that everyone who found something, loves and enjoys them as much as she did.

The table top was one piece of wood
Jessie told me this was a Duncan Phyfe drop-leaf table.
An antique display cabinet – dressed for Christmas
A cherry-wood china cabine
An old pump organ and an antique wind-up record player
An old pump organ and an antique wind-up record player
The dresser in Jessie’s bedroom
The dresser in Granny’s room, with an ice-cream chair
An old “Secretary” with green leather pad

 

All these “things” remind me of my Aunt Jessie, whenever I see them. They might not have been in my parent’s house, but they are still family treasures to me.

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Dad:Worst Enemy, Best Friend~Part 4

27 Jun

My Take 

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and ArtistFunny how many times I could have lost my dad, but didn’t. He was always there for me, and I had the deep security of knowing he always would be. I took him so much for granted, though, that I didn’t realize until much later that his caring for me in the ways that he did were the foundation for my trusting God.

Dad and I went more rounds over the years. We moved to Los Alamos where he became a courier for the Atomic Energy Commission (AEC).

Then we moved to Albuquerque so he and Mom could continue to work for the government. Dad still traveled.

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I ran away to get married, but Dad called the florist in faraway CA, to order an orchid for my bridal bouquet. He wasn’t able to attend because of the job.

We moved to Florida for Bill’s job at Kennedy Space Center. Mom and Dad never failed to visit us once a year, and we also joined them on their fishing vacations at Salton Sea (now defunct).* After Salton Sea came Marrowstone Island in Puget sound, then Sapinero-Blue Mesa Reservoir in Colorado. The vacations were memorable, but I’m afraid I didn’t appreciate them as much then as I do in retrospect. The living was rough, fishing was all, but Mom the kids and I could always go to town (except at Salton Sea which was out in the desert by itself.) And once we did some old-fashioned clamming. That was great fun!

All those vacations were good for getting to know each other, especially the children. I’ll always be grateful that Mom and Dad went to that much effort to stay in touch.

When we first arrived in Florida, the woods that border our home seemed scary and exotic. I’d heard so much about snakes and insects I didn’t want to go out there.

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When Dad came, though, he wasn’t daunted. He started walking every day. Our dog and I soon joined him and we learned the way. We’ve been walking the trails in those woods ever since, first with our kids and dogs then with our grandkids. It is a chief enjoyment in life.

Mother always told me to have plenty of things for Dad to repair when they came so he wouldn’t get bored. The year we had no TV he threatened never to come back again, but we got one and he did. One job dad did was to put up a jar opener under a cupboard for us. He was having a lot of trouble with carpal-tunnel syndrome by then. I use that gripper now because I need it sometimes. I wonder, if he realized what a favor he had done for us by installing it.

With maturity, my grievances have melted away. I’ve realized that I deeply loved my Dad in spite of our lifelong battles. The first time I went to visit when he was in the nursing home unable to do anything for himself we both broke into tears. Dad was aware enough to ask, “Is this who I think it is?” Later, I sat alone with him and held his wrist in my hand so I could feel his pulse because I didn’t know how to talk to him as others seemed to do.

This year, on Memorial Day Sunday our pastor asked people to call out the names of their kin who had died in wars. At first there were only a few and then it became a chorus of jumbled names. I felt sad knowing how difficult it is to lose any member of your family. But I also had a halleluiah feeling that I did get to know my Dad for the rest of his life after he came home from WW2. He carried signs of what we now call PTSD. I believe that most families whose parents have been in the military during wartime do. Thanks Dad, for coming back and living a long life in which I got to know you and your true value.

DiVoran and Dad with coats

 

Read more about Salton Sea by clicking HERE

 

 

 

 

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Dad: Worst Enemy, Best Friend~Part 3

20 Jun

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Over the years, Dad bought roller-skates, bicycles, a horse, a dog, and he even acquired a cat for us. There were always plenty of cats available, so he didn’t have to buy Tiger. He had us pay for the puppy, though, because Brownie came from a ranch and dad thought it only fair that the rancher got something for one of his animals. It was also a good lesson for us. We gave everything we had for that dog — thirty-five cents between us.

DiVoran and Yankee

DiVoran and Yankee (a part Shetland pony)

DiVoran and Brownie

DiVoran and Brownie (part collie) the love of my life for a long time.

He bought each of us a baby calf. David’s was a Hereford and he called him, Red. Mine was black and white, and I called him, Clover. Alas, I found him dead one morning in the woodshed where he lived. He had died of some common ailment to young calves.

Dad cleaned out the shed and that year bought a big white goose from a rancher. That goose was to be Thanksgiving dinner. Dad would cook it himself. David and I had the job of feeding the goose every day. When we learned his destiny, I decided he needed to be free so we left the shed door open and the goose escaped.

Goose

 

When Dad discovered  the goose was gone, he sent us out on the prairie behind our house to look for it. We went down to Grape Creek and thinking the goose might like water, we walked along making our way through the thick willow bushes. We never found the goose, but we did come upon a willow-hut that we presumed belonged to one of the two town drunks. The citizens called this man, Prairie Jack. When we peeked inside the hut, we saw that it was empty except for a pallet on the ground and a photograph of a lovely young woman. Her clothes and hair- style came from another time. I recognized that from Grandmother’s teaching the women in the family to stay in step with style. Then too, being the children of a bar owner, we knew why Prairie Jack had turned to drink. He had plainly lost the woman he loved and couldn’t stand to live sober without her.

We left everything in the hut alone, even though we had already meddled in Prairie Jack’s business. Once, when we found a full bottle of whisky hidden under a sage bush, we poured the whole quart-full on the ground and left the empty bottle laying there. I hated whiskey and do to this day, probably because it was my medicine for when I got car-sick on the winding roads to Grandmother’s house.

Dad taught us to work in the restaurant. My brother took out the empty coke bottles in their wooden cases. The two of us cleared tables and washed dishes. Our pay was twenty-five cents an hour. For killing flies in the summer, with a fly swatter, we got a penny a fly. For ironing a large basket of clothes at home for Mother, I got a whole dollar each week. My brother had his chores as well. We saved some of our money and spent the rest. I wish I could tell you what we spent it on, but I just don’t know.

Dad took flying lessons from the town jeweler, a fellow member of the Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW) organization. He then bought a Piper Cub and called it, “Dinty Moore.” We flew over the mountains to visit Grandmother and Granddad in Canon City.

One afternoon, when dad and his friend, Sweak Jeske, flew to Denver to look at cars, the phone on the restaurant wall rang. When Mother answered it an insurance salesman sold her some airplane insurance. The next call that evening was from Dad saying he had got caught in a downdraft and crashed the plane in the snow on the side of Pike’s Peak. We kids didn’t know anything about it until dad came home the next day with a broken ankle. He and Sweak had made their way down the mountain to a ranch house and were saved from freezing to death. Sweak had no injuries at all. I reckon someone bigger than you and I had His hand under that plane and set it down gentle as could be. Once they towed the wreckage back to the small airport in Silver Cliff, I saw that Dinty Moore was now a pile of junk. Mom and Dad both worked hard and he was able to get an Air Coup some years later. He wanted us to have flying lessons, so I got up very early one morning and he took me to the airport where I got into a Steerman with an instructor and had a lesson on flying and was told to study cloud formations. The next Saturday, I decided I didn’t want to to get up so early so I never did learn to fly and sorry folks, but I didn’t care and still don’t. My brother, on the other hand, became a mechanic on jets and later a commercial pilot. To each his own.

 

 

 

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Dad: Worst Enemy, Best Friend Part~ 2

13 Jun

My Take

DiVoran Bowers Lites

 

Author, Poet and ArtistOnce Dad was drafted, we left Crowley for Canon City. Mother, David, and I would live in an upstairs apartment in our grandparents’ Victorian house for the duration of the war. Mother and Dad quit their jobs and loaded up the old clunker. The night before, we were almost ready go and Mother prepared chicken and noodles for supper. It was delicious until Dad told me where the chicken had come from. It was our beautiful old rooster, Chanticleer! I was only five years old and I could not understand why Dad had had killed him.

While dad was in the army, he and mother wrote letters and sent pictures to each other. I have his letters now. When I read them I see that he says things like, “You don’t realize how much I miss you and the kids.” And “tell the kids I sure enjoyed their letters.” In one place he says I sure hope we have enough to go into business when this is over as jobs are going to be very few and hard to get.

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Of course Mother and Dad did miss each other. I went to first grade that year, because my birthday was in October and I’d been to kindergarten, I was allowed to go before I turned six.

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Among the letters is one where dad tells casually about saving a sergeant from drowning in the fast moving river where they were working on water purification. The sergeant was unconscious before Dad could get to him, but Dad pulled him out and some of the other fellows helped get him up on the bank and revived. That day the men had cold cokes and were as happy as could be under the circumstances. Dad didn’t enjoy the army because he felt he could do nothing right, which I’m sure wasn’t true. He wanted to get into welding which he was adept at, but somehow he never got that job. In the end, he walked all over Europe in freezing cold mud that came almost to his knees. One time, he saw a man shoot another man at the chow-table because the other man used the salt before he passed it. He hardly ever talked about the war later on, but that one story taught us never to use anything someone else has asked you to pass before you pass it.

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When dad came home in 1945, he bought a blue, 1937 Chevrolet and took us to Westcliffe where he and mom had bought Min’s Café and Bar on the G. I. plan.

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We lived in several houses there ending up at the old train station. After dad had renovated it, we called it, “The White Cloud Motel,” even though it only had one apartment downstairs. We lived on the second floor and our bedrooms looked out on the Sangre de Cristo range with very little except scenery to spoil the view. During the renovation when Dad tore out the old boardwalk he found many nests of baby rabbits. At that time, rabbits were a big nuisance to the ranchers around the valley, so Dad had to take care of all the baby ones he found in the nests. I hated that. I thought they should all be allowed to live.

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He made the old station baggage room into a place to hang antelopes and deer to bleed out before he skinned, cleaned, and butchered them. He firmly believed everyone should know how to deal with game because someday we’d all starve to death if we didn’t know how. After seeing the Disney movie, Bambi in 1942 where the hunters killed Bambi’s mother, I avoided eating game altogether unless I was forced to eat it. Dad and I started butting heads regularly.

Our parents were good to us, but Dad could only show it in material ways and I took it all for granted.

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Family Treasures~Part 2

12 Jun

SUNDAY MEMORIES

Judy Wills

JUDY

 

As I mentioned last week, sometimes, the things you grow up with, just don’t seem like anything special.   They are just “there”….part of the woodwork. I’ve found that, not until I got older – and left my girlhood home – did those “things” become important to me.

My mother and father lived in the house I grew up in for many years following my marriage. Fred and I moved to Fort Worth, Texas, for him to attend Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. Following that, we went to San Jose, California for one year for Fred to study meteorology at San Jose State College, to prepare him for his meteorologist career in the U.S. Air Force. During that year, my father died.

Mother continued to live in my growing-up house. About five years after my father’s death, mother remarried. We saw them only one time in that house before they sold it and moved into an apartment. Many of the things I grew up around, were put in storage in my step-father’s sister’s garage. While on a visit one time, mother asked if we had the chalk pictures – which I didn’t. Apparently they were put in that storage. I would love to have them now, but they are gone – no one knows where.

Again, they were just part of the “decoration” of the house where I grew up. I always thought they were neat and cute, but they didn’t have any “hold” on me at that time. I don’t remember who did the chalk drawings, but one was of my brother at about two years of age, and the one of me was at about two years of age, also. They were in colored chalk, and really cute.

Here are a couple of pictures of Bill and myself beside our respective chalk pictures. Unfortunately, these pictures were in black-and-white, so you can’t really see the colors.

However, here is another one that had the pictures in color. Mother and dad had purchased a new couch, and mother had made a new picture arrangement above it.

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And here’s another one, taken in 1966, Christmas, that shows those pictures a bit closer, and in color.

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These are a family treasure to me, even if they aren’t in our possession. Something to remember and enjoy the memory.

 

 

 

 

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Watching Grass Grow

2 Jun

On the Porch

Onisha Ellis

I'm a winner

  You know how people joke about watching grass grow, indicating boredom? Well, watching grass grow at our house has been pretty darn exciting. In the past we adopted the haphazard method of dealing with our grass in North Carolina. This method involved a lot of head scratching as each of our efforts failed. This year, due to our slide area, we spoke with the Soil and Water folks and took their advice.

IMG_3236

In Florida, we didn’t sow grass seeds. We bought slabs of St. Augustine grass  and voila, we had grass. Of course, if we didn’t water it frequently we had dead grass.

My husband changed his method of dealing with our apple tree that had not produced a single apple in five years. In the fall he gave it a stern lecture, threatening to turn it into applewood lumber if it didn’t quit stalling. It seems the tree took it to heart.

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We do have still have some gardening questions and your input is appreciated.  Why are our blue hydrangea now blue and white and is this pretty flower a weed or a plant that I can buy more of? It looks like Foxglove, but is more delicate and spindly.

It hasn’t been all gardening the past two weeks. We finally figured out how to get our sidewalk poured. My husband had been dreading hauling the concrete laden wheelbarrow. as he has painful shoulders, but we received an unexpected blessing in the form of the concrete truck driver. I call him our angel of mercy. He didn’t allow my husband to push even one wheelbarrow load. He and the handyman we hired went way above our expectations, hauling the excess concrete around the house and bucketing it up on a hill where we plan to build a water feature. They even smoothed the concrete!

Do you see our “porch dog” Gus supervising the men? My job was to make sure Gus didn’t make paw prints on the walkway. He only jumped on it once and it was easy to smooth out.

We were especially pleased to get our walkway finished as our aunt was visiting and we wanted a nice surface for her walker to roll on. We spent several days out and about with my aunt and my cousin. Lots of fun! We visited Black Rock Mountain State Park in Georgia. What a beautiful park it is!

Beautiful overlook
Husband goofing around.

I’m not a big garage sale fan, but my visiting family are and they always find great deals. I even found some myself. The best part of “garage selling” was discovering new communities in the area, The mountains sure have an abundance of nature and beauty. Here are two photos I took at one yard sale. I was warned a black snake was sighted heading for the old door. No worries. Black snakes are our friends.

It is quiet here now that our family returned to their home. I am back to watching the grass grow and the flowers bloom and I am enjoying every minute of it!

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Thanks for the Memories: Jesus Loves Me

30 May

My Take

DiVoran Lites

DiVoran, Mom and brother

David, Dora, and DiVoran Bowers

It was a time of childhood and Mother took us to the church she’d been reared in. It was, and still is, a beautiful church built from some kind of red stone. But I see on the Internet that it is closed now. How sad. Mother, David and I could walk there from our grandparents’ apartment house where we lived while Daddy was away fighting in WW2.

I must have been in first grade the year Auntie Elvira was my Sunday School teacher. She had taught my mother, then my mother’s younger sister and later she taught my cousins and even their children. Elvira, a maiden-lady lived alone, but she was well-beloved by the entire Canon City, Colorado community.

Our Sunday School room was clean, well-lit, and cheerful with carefully crafted wooden book cases holding children’s books we could read if there was time. Auntie Elvira always told an exciting Bible Story and let us know how much Jesus loved us. The one thing she never forgot was to lead us in, “Jesus Loves Me,” a song I have remembered all my life.

“Jesus Loves Me,” has helped me out of many low places. One day when Bill was working at the Kennedy Space Center I was pushing the iron around on one his white shirts when I began to feel so discouraged about myself I could hardly stand up. I recalled our minister of counseling telling us that he had a congregant say she had tried to feel as if she measured up to God’s expectation, but she never could. One day she fell to her knees and prayed fervently but that didn’t help, so she stretched out flat with her nose pushed into the floor thinking God might smile on her then.

I decided to get down on my face, too, and see how it worked for me. I put the iron in its holder, but that moment I remembered a tale told by our pastor, Peter Lord. He said he knew a professor in seminary who was the best educated, and the Godliest man he’d ever known. When a student asked him what his favorite song was, the professor answered, “Jesus Love Me.”

Still standing at the ironing board I decided that if it was good enough for a fine man like that, I’d give it a try. As I sang, Auntie Elvira’s love for the children came back and then I felt a warmth in my heart. That warmth assured me that God did love me, after all. I went back to ironing, but by then I had the song where it needed to be and I repeated it over and over. I have now depended on it for many years. God did, however continue to solidify my conviction that I was all right with him, as well. During that period I had two memorable dreams.

Charlene and Billie png

Charlene and Billy Lites

The first dream was about a dog. When Charlene and Billy were children, we gave them an adopted puppy for Christmas. They were thrilled. Right away Renie dressed the pup in doll clothes and put her in the doll buggy. We named her Dingo because she looked like an Australian Dingo dog. When she became full-sized, she couldn’t do enough to show how much she loved us and wanted to be with us. Then, one night, I dreamed that Dingo came to the side of my bed and she was blind. I didn’t feel pity, instead I knew it was a message from the Holy Spirit, God telling me that He didn’t see my sins any more than that blind dog could see me. That was confirmed by Corrie ten Boom at a meeting in Melbourne when she said: “God has threw our sins into the deepest sea and put up a, NO FISHING sign.

Trust in the Lord

Those dreams and the reassurance that God loved me happened over fifty years ago, and yet I remember one other dream as vividly: In this one, I run through the sky as light as a butterfly, totally free of all shame and blame. Though I’ve had doubts about my own “perfection,” I never doubted the Father’s love again.

“Jesus love me, this I know,

For the Bible tells me so.

Little ones to Him belong,

They are weak, but He is strong.”

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Invisible GIfts

24 Dec

wreath02 skinny

On the Porch

Onisha Ellis

I'm a winner

I haven’t written a blog since Thanksgiving. Thankfully, I am blessed with amazing and faithful friends who have a blog ready every week. They even “blog ahead” when they are on vacation or know they have a busy time coming up.  Divoran, Bill, Louise, Janet and Judy, I appreciate and admire you more than you can imagine. You are  invisible gifts underneath my Christmas tree.

Yesterday, tornados slashed a path of destruction across the Southeast, leaving homes in ruin and lives were lost. I am adding safety and protection as an invisible gift under the tree.

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SAFETY
FAITHFUL
christmas-gifts-object-talk

At Christmas people say “it is not the gift, it is the thought behind it” or “It’s not the presents under the tree but the people around it.” For me it is the invisible gifts that last far longer than the newest tech gadget (although I love new tech) or a piece of shiny jewelry, that stays with me. I treasure growing up in a family that loved the Savior. My parents are a precious invisible gift.Mom-and-Dad-copyI could ramble on and list more gifts, but it is Christmas Eve and I would rather here from you. When you think of invisible gifts, what are you thankful for.

PS: Our sweet poet, Louise Gibson is not doing well. We would appreciate prayers for her and her family as they care for her.

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What if it’s ? Quit Worrying and Get a Memory Check During National Memory Screening Week.

3 Nov

National Memory Screening wk

I met Marianne Sciucco in the virtual world on Face Book. She is an author and to be honest, the lovely blue hydrangeas on her book cover are what lured me into reading her novel, aptly titled, Blue Hydrageas.  It is a moving story of a couple dealing with Alzheimer’s. Today she has her own story to share.

MarianneI’m writing today as one of the forgotten, one of those left behind in the fog of Alzheimer’s disease that took over someone I loved.

The first time this happened was in the late 1980’s, when, as a 20-something, I didn’t know much about this disease and didn’t understand why Auntie Gilda had to live in a nursing home and didn’t recognize me when I came to call. She was my mother’s oldest sister by 15 years, more like the grandmother I never had than an aunt, who coddled me as a child and expressed great joy when I took the time to visit her as a young adult.

Heartbroken is too weak of a word to describe how I felt when she looked right through me as I took her hands and said hello in the crowded corridor of the dementia ward.

She was not the first aunt to forget me, and not the last, and my story is not unique as I am among the millions of people who have been left behind by parents, spouses, brothers, sisters, and in some cases children who are afflicted with Alzheimer’s and other dementias.

This is a disease shrouded in hopelessness, where little can be done to cure, prevent, or stall its progression.

It’s a primary concern of the elderly: Will I get Alzheimer’s? My mother, father, sister, brother, grandmother had it. Am I next?

It’s a worry of those with aging parents: Mom seems forgetful. Is it Alzheimer’s?

When memory problems surface, even simple problems like searching for familiar words, forgetting an acquaintance’s name, misplacing the car keys again, the thought train that maybe it’s Alzheimer’s starts roaring down the tracks.

All of this is usually needless worry as many of these behaviors are normal, natural, and no cause for concern. They could be symptoms of a medical problem unrelated to any dementia. Still, some of us stay up nights worrying: What if it’s Alzheimer’s?

Which is why it’s important to include a memory check as part of your annual physical. Healthcare providers recommend routine screenings for a variety of conditions: hypertension, diabetes, high cholesterol, and cancers such as skin, colorectal, breast and prostate. A memory check is another exam you should do annually, to make sure your cognitive function is intact.

November 1-7 is National Memory Screening Week, and a great time to not only perform this check for yourself but for your loved ones, especially your elders, who may be experiencing cognitive decline. Memory screenings are for those concerned about memory loss or those experiencing warning signs of cognitive decline, whether or not there is a family history of dementia or Alzheimer’s. If friends or family are making comments about your mental acuity, a screening may be beneficial, whether you take one at your physician’s office, your local senior center, or at home.

Heartbroken

If you’re asking yourself any of the following questions, it’s time for a screening:

Am I becoming more forgetful?

Do I have trouble concentrating?

Do I have difficulty performing familiar tasks?

Do I have trouble recalling words or names in conversation?

Do I sometimes forget where I am or where I am going?

Have family or friends told me that I am repeating questions or repeating myself?

Am I misplacing things more often?

Have I become lost when walking or driving?

Have my family or friends noticed changes in my mood, behavior, personality, or desire to do things?

Early diagnosis is crucial in the treatment of memory impairment, as many conditions are reversible. But without proper medical care, situations can escalate and lead to serious decline or other conditions that may adversely impact one’s health.

Your healthcare provider (physician, nurse practitioner, physician’s assistant) can administer a screening test, and many community organizations do so through the Alzheimer’s Foundation of America. Self-administered at-home tests are another option. These tests take only minutes and may help determine if further investigation is needed. However, these tests should never be a substitute for a professional medical evaluation if one suspects cognitive impairment or decline. Proper medical evaluation of potential memory issues includes a consultation with a physician, a complete physical exam, a thorough review of health history, and diagnostic tests.

At the very least, simple at-home screening tests can open up dialogue, and introduce important discussions about what can happen if dementia or Alzheimer’s strikes, and how individuals prefer to be treated if it does.

Schedule a memory screening test with your healthcare provider this week, or visit Community Memory Screening and Awareness-Raising Education: The Road to Early Detection and Care (AFA C.A.R.E.S.) to find a local screening center in your community.

Brain Health

Some popular memory tests are:

The Self-Administered Gerocognitive Exam (SAGE), a 10-15 minute, 4-page, paper and pen test offered by The Ohio State University Wexner Medical Center.

The Mini-Cog Test for Alzheimer’s and Dementia, a simple three minute test that is useful in detecting mild cognitive impairment, dementia, or an early stage of Alzheimer’s.

Talking about memory issues and Alzheimer’s can be difficult. One way to open a discussion is through reading. Here are five titles, including my own, that can help start a conversation about memory concerns:

Alzheimer’s Daughter, Jean Lee

On Pluto: Inside the Mind of Alzheimer’s, Greg O’Brien

Somebody Stole My Iron: A Family Memoir of Dementia, Vicki Tapia

hat Flowers Remember, Shannon Wiersbitzky

Blue Hydrangeas, an Alzheimer’s love story, Marianne Sciucco

Additional Resources:

The Alzheimer’s Association

Visit our Face Book page, Ending the Isolation of Alzheimer’s

About Marianne Sciucco

​ I’m not a nurse who writes but a writer who happens to be a nurse. A lover of words and books, I dreamed of becoming an author when I grew up but became a nurse to avoid poverty. I later brought my two passions together and write about the intricate lives of people struggling with health and family issues. I grew up near Boston and earned my Bachelor’s degree in English at the University of Massachusetts at Boston. I spend a lot of time on Cape Cod. I also survived nursing school and when not writing work as a campus nurse at a community college in New York’s Hudson Valley, where I live with my patient and reliable husband and beautiful, brainy daughter. We are ruled by Mr. Chance, a cat we rescued who thinks he rescued us. I’m currently working on a YA novel, “Swim Season,” about the new girl on the team who challenges a longstanding school record, to be released in 2015. A dedicated Swim Mom for ten years, you can find me during swim season at one of many Skyline Conference swim meets cheering for my daughter and her team. 25:00!

You may connect with Marianne on her website, Face Book as well as on Twitter

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Success and Burdens

22 Oct

On the Porch
Onisha Ellis

I'm a winner

We were blessed to have a visit from my aunt and cousin recently. We did a whole lot of eating and a whole lot of talking. One evening we even went to the performing arts center to see Jeanne Robertson. She is one of my favorite comediennes and all of her material is clean and funny. I first saw her at a Women of Faith conference and have watched many of her clips on You Tube. If you have the chance, catch her tour. I know she will be in Florida in April. This is a clip of my favorite story.

On Monday my cousin and I went on a final jaunt around town. We did a little shopping, ate some Chinese food and scoped out the new location of a doctor’s office. Of course we got a bit turned around and that was a good thing. There is this mystery store in town that I have been looking for. I call it a mystery because I had heard about it but could not remember where it was located. As we wandered around, my cousin pointed to a store and asked what kind of store is that? I looked and yelled, I want to go there! She whipped the car around in the middle of the street and right into a parking place. I was impressed. It takes my husband a little longer to react, which is why I haven’t made it into the store. We walked across the street only to discover the shop was not open any longer…BUT it was still an operational facility AND the owner offered us a tour. (Yea!) The business is Appalachian Harvest  according to their website:

“Owners, Kim and Kevin Baldwin, founded Appalachian Harvest in 1998. “Our gourmet condiments are still made in small batches, hand stirred and hand poured, just like grandma made”. No artificial colors or preservatives are used, letting the natural flavors come through. Appalachian Harvest adds a unique ingredient to all of their products, love!

These products have been featured in Taste of the South magazine, and were used for catering the 2005 Superbowl in Detroit, Michigan. Appalachian Harvest adds a unique ingredient to all of their products, love! “

The kitchen set up reminded me of my grandmother’s and that is probably why I am drawn to what I call “working kitchens.” Big pots attract me like a bear to a picnic cooler in the Great Smoky Mountain National Park. I want to see what is inside and sneak a taste. Kevin, who gave us the tour offered us a jar of their Hot Pepper Jelly with Cherries so I didn’t have to push down my urge to go all bear on him.

Pour pepper jelly over a bar of cream cheese to make a delicious and easy party treat.

Pour pepper jelly over a bar of cream cheese to make a delicious and easy party treat.

The best part of the tour was hearing their success story. Their newest client, William-Sonoma will be selling Appalachian Harvest Cherry Pie Filing this year. That is big for a husband and wife run company.  The quart jar we were shown was a thing of red cherry  beauty and the ingredient list showed basic ingredients, just like you use if you canned it yourself.

Here is my final thought for this week. Do you ever feel like things are falling apart around you and you need to prop them up? I do. I like to be a fixer, and then I become stressed when I can’t fix a problem. I am taking up a burden God does not ask me to carry. He wants to carry them for me!

I love this song from my childhood. When I hear the song in my mind, I am taken to a happy place and hear my parents voices singing it.

Come Unto Me

Hear the blessed Savior calling the oppressed,
“Oh, ye heavy-laden, come to Me and rest;
Come, no longer tarry, I your load will bear,
Bring Me every burden, bring Me every care.”

  • Refrain:
    Come unto Me, I will give you rest;
    Take My yoke upon you, hear Me and be blest;
    I am meek and lowly, come and trust My might;
    Come, My yoke is easy, and My burden’s light
  • Are you disappointed, wand’ring here and there,
    Dragging chains of doubt and loaded down with care?
    Do unholy feelings struggle in your breast?
    Bring your case to Jesus—He will give you rest.

Matthew 11:28

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