The Gift

We've suspected for a while now that my aunt Louise may be suffering from Alzheimer's disease, and this week the diagnosis was confirmed.

I used to think that I would want my loved ones to die quickly, with no warning, as my mother did several years ago. She went to bed one night and never woke up, apparently having had a heart attack during the night. My husband died also from a sudden heart attack. I thought that was probably the kindest way to go for everyone concerned - no suffering or watching someone suffer, no agony over knowing that you were dying or watching your loved one die.

But when we discovered Dad was dying, I realized that the time between a terminal diagnosis and death is a very special gift. Very painful, yes, but it's a last chance to say all the things you want the other person to know that you would not ordinarily tell that person. It's a time to ask all the questions you wanted to know, to listen to all the stories one more time - and maybe to record them - maybe a chance to do the things you and the dying person always meant to and somehow never got around to. You have to be willing, though, to accept this gift without delay - it won't be offered for long.

Now I have the gift again. Thank you, Lord!

The Cat Who Wouldn't Be Ignored

Dad always maintained that he did NOT like cats - even though I found a veterinary receipt among his things showing that he'd paid for a kitten back in the 1940s. Mom, my brother Tommy, and I loved them, though, and Dad resigned himself to living with a cat. ONLY ONE at a time, though! Oh, and our cats were NOT allowed inside. Those varmints belonged outdoors!

We had one cat, though, who refused to accept those rules. THIS cat wasn't going to be relegated to the outdoors - no sir, not when it's warm inside! Once Tiger had established that his domain included the interior of the house, he began to work on The Rules.

First, he adopted Mom. Easy victory there - my mother never met a cat she didn't like. He'd jump in her lap every time she sat down, demanding to be petted. Of course she was happy to oblige him! He even convinced her that the vegetable soup she'd eat as a "snack" was good for him too, and she'd sit in the living room with the cat in her lap, feeding Tiger vegetable soup from a spoon.

One night, she was fixing supper, which was to have included pear salads - pear halves with a mixture of mayonnaise and cream cheese, topped with shredded cheddar and a cherry. The phone rang, and she turned her back to the table to answer it. When she hung up, she found Tiger standing on the table, quietly licking the last of the mayonnaise-cream cheese mixture from her salad! Mama could not stay mad at a cat, though, and quickly forgave Tiger. Good thing he chose her salad, though, instead of Dad's!

Mama had to go into the hospital for some testing, though, and was gone for two weeks. Upon her return, Tiger got confused. Mom usually sat at the end of the sofa with Dad sitting next to her, and Tiger in her lap. The night she returned, though, Dad chose the end of the sofa and Mom sat down next to him. Tiger took one look, realized she was back, and made a running dive - right across Mom and straight into Dad's lap! I'm not sure who was the most surprised - Mom, Dad, or the cat! That was the beginning of Dad's change of heart regarding cats.

Tiger spent most nights, by his choice, outside. Although Tiger, of course, did not have a watch, he was more punctual than most people. He knew that Dad would be up at 5:30 a.m., and would walk through the living room into the kitchen to start coffee. Tiger would be waiting for Dad each morning at 5:30 on the living room windowsill, knowing that Dad would see him and open the door for him. As he sensed that Dad was beginning to like him, he altered his early-morning routine slightly. Dad would open the door, let the cat in, and immediately close and lock the door again. Tiger began jumping onto the piano bench behind Dad until Dad had locked the door, then when Dad turned around, Tiger would leap onto his shoulder. Dad didn't have a choice in the matter - he had to like Tiger!

Years later, Dad tamed a stray cat, one of a litter that had been born under a toolshed in the back yard, calling him Tux (Tux was a black-&-white tuxedo cat). He adopted a cat briefly, but was forced to give up the cat as my sister-in-law is allergic to them. He thoroughly enjoyed visiting me and petting my three cats, who danced on their hind legs for him and rubbed their cheeks against his hands. But I don't think he enjoyed any of those cats as much as Tiger - the cat who would not be ignored!

The Company Picnic

Earlier this week, we observed the anniversary of Pearl Harbor Day. I paused to think about those killed at Pearl Harbor and those who served in our Armed Forces during World War II - including Dad. Dad wasn't at Pearl Harbor during the war; he was on the other side of the world, stationed in Italy and North Africa. But one of his treasured memories was the visit he made to Hawaii and to the USS Arizona Memorial a few years ago.

Dad worked as a building engineer at Peachtree Center, a large office complex in downtown Atlanta. The complex was built in the 1960s and was undergoing an asbestos abatement project, which involved the maintenance staff working many Saturdays and Sundays. This particular Sunday, however, was the company picnic for the employees of the property management company that owned the complex. Yet somebody had to work that day, because the asbestos abatement people were going to be there - and you guessed it, Dad was one of the two who were asked to work and miss the picnic.

Dad was never one to feel sorry for himself, no matter what happened to him - or at least, never one to let on that he felt sorry for himself. So I was quite surprised to hear him grumble that Sunday evening, "Everyone else got to go to the picnic today, but I had to work." I knew he'd been working many long days and many weekends, though, and it seemed only natural that he'd have enjoyed an outing instead. Since he lived closer than most of the others in the maintenance department, he was frequently asked to take most of the weekend duty, and he'd never have told his boss "no."

The next morning, Dad had a doctor's appointment and did not go to work until late that morning. As he entered the building, everyone he saw greeted him with "Congratulations!" Dad was mystified - he didn't have any idea why he was being congratulated. When he got to the maintenance department, he was asked to go upstairs to the company president's office. He wondered what that was all about, but he really didn't think too much about it - he'd been asked to take care of several requests for the president, including picking a lock at the president's home. "Probably locked himself out of his darkroom again," Dad figured.

When he got to the president's office, he was greeted with a lei and introduced to the company's travel agent. It seems that there was a drawing held at the picnic, and the prize was a week-long trip for two to Honolulu, Hawaii. Dad's boss had told one of the others in the department who was going to be at the picnic to be sure to enter Dad's name, along with the coworker who'd also worked instead of attending, for the drawing. Dad won!

My mother was ill at the time and couldn't travel. My brother and I assured Dad that we would be able to take care of Mom. Mom thought that was a fine idea, too, and
I gave him firm instructions: "Under NO circumstances are you to even consider not going on this trip!"

He and my aunt Louise had been planning a shorter trip to Tampa to visit their uncle, and he decided to take her to Hawaii since Mom could not go. Dad went to her house to tell her. "How would you feel about going somewhere other than Tampa?" he asked her. He watched her begin to pout as she asked him, "Where?" "How about Honolulu?" "How soon do we get on the plane?" she replied. She'd always wanted to see Hawaii.

Neither of them had ever flown before, and Louise has always been a very fearful person. "Bet you'll never get her on the plane," warned her son Sam. Well, guess what, Sam - you missed it that time! Louise not only went with Dad, she had a chance to go again a couple of years later and enjoyed it just as much the second time!

They visited the USS Arizona, and I think that was the real highlight of the whole trip for Dad. I could tell he was very moved by what he saw there. They also enjoyed the tour of Oahu, and the Polynesian Cultural Center, where Dad said the hula girls had "ball-bearing hips!"

And of course, I never let him forget the Sunday he'd spent feeling sorry for himself because he didn't get to go to the picnic, and got to go on a much bigger picnic instead!

Dog Days

I've mentioned before that Dad always loved dogs, and I promised you a great dog story. Well, I've been thinking about it and that particular story is probably going to be the last posting to this blog. You'll see why when you read it.

But I can't write about Dad without writing about dogs, nor can I write about Mama without writing about cats. So here is a dog story for you:

Dad was stationed in Italy during WWII. Near the end of the war, he went to the PX one day, driving a Jeep, and came out to find a beautiful Irish Setter sitting in the passenger seat. Dad clicked his tongue at the dog and reached out to pet it, and the dog wagged his tail. So Dad started up the Jeep and took off.

That dog stayed with Dad for several months, following him every chance he had. He loved Jeep rides, and the entire company enjoyed Dad's dog - until one day, Dad went back to the PX, and when he came back to the jeep, the dog was gone. Dad never gave the dog a name, and he figured the dog may have found his original owner.

Meanwhile, back home in Atlanta, Dad's mother Ruth wrote him. "I have a dog for you," she wrote. "Took up here one morning and I thought you'd like her." A couple of weeks later, she wrote again. "Dogs," this letter said. The dog had produced a litter of puppies.

Dad's brother-in-law, Sam, arrived home first, but Mama-dog wouldn't let him in the house. Then Dad's brother Jim arrived. Mama-dog agreed that he could come in, but she wouldn't let him near those puppies.

Finally it was Dad's turn. He told me, "I came in, dropped my suitcase in the living room, and went and sat down on the kitchen floor and got me a lap full of puppies. Well, the next thing you know, here comes Mama-dog nosing under my arm wanting to get into my lap too!" He told that story often - it amazed him that Mama-dog just instinctively knew whose dog she was.

Letter to Dad (and Mama)

There've been a lot of things lately that I've wished I could tell Dad about - he'd have enjoyed hearing about them. He always enjoyed listening to me talk about what was going on in my life, and those who know me would probably be surprised at how well Dad knew them - even if he'd never met them!

Well, I can't pick up the phone anymore and tell him. So I am going to write him a letter - no matter that he won't read it. You can read it instead!

Dad - the contractors started working on your house today. "What in the heck are they doing to my house?" I can hear you ask. Well, it's a long story, but I think you've got time to hear.

We've had some problems with that house. I asked Mike to leave after you died, because I knew we would not be able to sell the house with him there. It would have been difficult to do the work we needed to do while he was there, and of course it would have been very much in his best interest that the house did not sell. So I'm sure he'd have left it in a mess so it wouldn't show well, or if an agent called, he would have had some reason they couldn't show it or he wouldn't leave and would have talked the prospect out of buying it, or he'd "forget" and leave the alarm turned on. He's not very happy with me these days, but he had to know moving day would come, and I've been as generous with him as I could. He had a six-week written notice, and I'd already talked to him before then.

A few weeks after he moved out, we had problems with folks breaking into the house. The first time, the electrical meter was removed from the carport wall, and the intruder(s) took a window air-conditioner. Then, as I've written here before, they came back for the other window air-conditioner.

The third time, they very carefully removed the ceiling fans from the living room and the den. They didn't stop there, though - by then there wasn't anything in the house of any value, and very little of anything else. They tried to take the refrigerator but weren't successful. And I still find this hard to believe, but they stole the bathroom sink!!

Well, of course the utilities were still on, and since I am not able to check the house every day, we figure the water ran for probably three days before it was discovered. 550 gallons of water were pumped out of the crawlspace. $20,000 of damage was done. All the hardwood floors were ruined. The water heater was ruined. And the furnace was destroyed.

You know, Dad, it seems to me that it's kind of fitting that the furnace was destroyed. That was the original furnace for that 51-year-old house, and I'm sure the only reason it survived that long was your skill as an HVAC mechanic. Ironic, though - it was warm weather when we found out you were dying, and it's only now getting cool enough to think about heat - so in a way, the furnace died with you.

And I remember you telling me just before we knew you were sick - probably when you filed the claim for that last car accident, right before you got that little dark green Saturn - that your insurance agent had told you that you were probably the holder of the oldest policies the company had in Georgia. Well, we got some of your money back. Your insurance policy is paying for a new furnace, new water heater, new prefinished hardwood flooring, new kitchen vinyl, and interior painting all through the house. When the contractor finishes, I believe we'll have a better house and should be able to get more for it than we would have before the break-ins. Just like always, even though you aren't here anymore, you're taking good care of your family.

But Mama, I'm so sorry, but you're going to have to forgive me about the kitchen. I know, I know - it's been that glossy dark-red since before I was born - nearly 50 years ago! It's just that the kitchen needs lightening up, and we'd never be able to match that paint again anyway, and, well, it's going to be a light golden-yellow with white cabinets and white vinyl floor. I think you'll like it when the contractors are finished - I'll post some photos here later. It just won't look like our house anymore, but that will make it easier for us to let go of it when it's sold.

OH! and Dad! About that Saturn - it seemed such a shame, you were so proud of that little car, and you only got to drive it a couple of times. Tommy said you told him that he needed to come down and see it, and I remember when you were in the hospital, you'd get confused and think it was out in the parking deck. Well, we've still got it. When things are settled, we've earmarked it for Joey. I thought you'd like that. Joey got his learner's permit a couple of weeks ago, and earlier this week he actually drove! for the first time. He's getting to be quite the young man.

Tell me something I didn't know!

Dad's cancer surgery was unsuccessful - the cancer had already spread throughout his abdomen, and the doctor did not proceed. Chemotherapy had quickly been ruled out, too - leaving us with little other option than to move Dad to a hospice.

Plans had been made to visit a hospice, and I'd invited my aunt Mildred and my cousin Mike to go along with us on the visit. Mildred and I were very concerned, though, about my other aunt, Louise. Louise is 85 years old and getting very frail, both physically and mentally. We're concerned that she may be developing Alzheimer's, and we were very worried about how she was going to take the news that her brother was dying.

Dad had been transferred to CCU during the early morning hours on the day we were going to visit the hospice. We were all in the waiting room - my brother, sister-in-law, and my nephews; Mildred, her two daughters, Louise, my fiance Phillip, and myself. We hadn't mentioned hospice to Louise, and my cousin Tammy whispered to Mildred that we did need to tell her. So I decided to speak up.

Tammy had brought Louise in using a wheelchair as she can't move very well. I knelt down in front of her to tell her what was going on, tears streaming down my face.

"Aunt Louise, you know the other day you told me that they didn't get that cancer, and I told you they couldn't? Well, they don't have any treatment to offer, and suggested that we look into a hospice."

"Oh, honey, I knew that!" Louise very calmly replied. WHAT?? We were stunned. "Remember, I helped take care of Jim years ago, so I knew what I was seeing."

How comical - here we all were, worrying about how to tell her and scared for her reaction, and she had quietly figured it out on her own and was trying to comfort us!

The Porch Railing

Dad dropped out of high school at 14 to go to work, as his alcoholic father wasn't supporting the family. He always regretted his ninth-grade education, and we found numerous textbooks among his things after he died. He'd managed to teach himself algebra, calculus, and even electronics - amazing to me, since I had to have tutoring to pass algebra!

He worked as a delivery boy for a grocery store. In those days (around 1936-38), grocery stores routinely offered delivery service, and the grocery store owner provided a bicycle. One night, the grocery store owner's wife accused him of stealing some chewing gum. Dad never chewed gum, and he did have a temper! He quit on the spot - even though he then had to walk home.

Ruth asked him what he was going to do next. He told her, "I'm going to get up in the morning and go sit out on the front porch and prop my feet up on the railing, and I'm going to laugh at all the boys passing by on their way to work!"

Well, he had good intentions. Sure enough, the next morning, he sat on the front porch with his feet propped up on the rail. But he wasn't there very long. A car pulled up in the driveway, and a man got out and approached him.

"Are you Bill Moon?"

"I am," my dad replied.

"I hear you're a good bicycle delivery boy."

Again, my dad replied, "Yep, I sure am."

"Well, my name's Doc Barnett, and I've got a drugstore over on Bankhead, and I'm looking for a delivery boy. I've got a brand-new bicycle in the trunk of my car. Would you like to come work for me?"

Dad answered, "Sure. Just let me go tell my mother where I'm going to be." Ruth was flabbergasted!

Dad worked as the drugstore's delivery service until he was drafted. He held many jobs in his life, from delivery boy to cotton-mill doffer to traveling refrigeration serviceman to building engineer; even after he retired, he worked cutting grass at a golf course, building frames and trophies, and finally as a school crossing guard. Finding a job when he needed a new one seemed to be just about as easy for him as sitting on his front porch. I've often wondered exactly what his secret was!

The Kitten

Life with Dad wasn't all fun and games. Dad had a bit of a temper, and he could be a very stern disciplinarian. My brother and I both tested him. I had a particularly annoying problem: I just do not hear the word "no." Whenever Dad tried to tell me "no," I went all around him trying to get what I want. Most of the time I succeeded - there are advantages, you know, to being Daddy's little girl! But I do remember one time I didn't get my way...

My grandparents lived on a farm in North Georgia, and we visited them frequently when my brother and I were small. Back in those days, Georgia's expressway system hadn't been completed, and the 60-mile journey took several hours.

I've always been fascinated by cats. When I was about four or five, I really did not want to have a cat - I wanted to be a cat! Well, on one trip to my grandparents when I was about four years old, I discovered that one of the barn cats had a litter of kittens. I wanted one! "No," my parents said. "Those kittens are too young - they still need their mama," explained my grandmother.

All I heard was that impossible word "No!" Of course the barn cats were wild and tried to run away from me. But the kittens couldn't run fast - and I could. I managed to catch one of the kittens and sneaked it into the car when we were leaving. I had a kitten! Try to tell ME "no!"

About halfway home, my parents heard the kitten crying and realized what I'd done. No matter that Dad was tired and would have to be up at 4:30 in the morning to go to work - that kitten had to be taken back to its mother.

"Miss Brenda?" asked my dad. "Do you know what's waiting for you when we get home?" I immediately started crying and cried all the way home. Not only was I not going to get to keep that adorable little kitten, but when my dad called me "Miss Brenda," I knew I was going to get a spanking. Even today, I've had to ask my friends to teach their kids to call me something other than "Miss Brenda" - that name preceded so many spankings when I was a child that it makes me nervous today to hear a 3-year-old call me that! It wasn't, mind you, that Dad was a child abuser or overly strict, it was simply that I refused to hear "no." I was such an angel!

Happy Anniversary!

Today would have been my parents' 51st wedding anniversary. They had been married 42 1/2 years when Mom died eight years ago. I'm not sure you'd have said they were a match made in heaven - they certainly had their ups and downs - but perhaps Fate (and Lady Fortune) had a hand in their meeting!

Nancy Jane Ledbetter grew up on a farm in North Georgia during the Depression. She was one of 13 children! Her mother died after giving birth to a stillborn child, number nine (I never heard whether the child had been a boy or a girl, much less what its name was). About a couple of years later, my grandfather remarried and went on to have five more children by his second wife.

My mother dreamed of becoming a nurse. When she graduated from high school, she left the family farm and moved in with an aunt who lived in town (Canton, GA), working at the chicken plant while she saved her money to come to Atlanta to go to business school so she could work in an office to make more money to save up to go to nursing school. But fate intervened - she made it to Atlanta and did go to business school, then she did get a job in an office, but she never got to nursing school.

When she was ready to come to Atlanta, she answered an ad in the newspaper offering free room and board for light housekeeping and babysitting for an eight-year-old boy. The family was well-to-do, and Mom found herself living in her own room in a beautiful old Victorian-style house. She and the lady of the house became such good friends that my brother and I claimed the couple as adopted grandparents!

Mrs. McKinley tried to set Mom up with several nice young gentlemen she knew. None of them caught Mom's attention, though. Finally, Mrs. McKinley visited a fortune-teller she frequented, bringing Mom along.

Ruth Moon, my grandmother, also frequented the fortune-teller and counted her as a family friend. Dad knew the fortune-teller as well. By this time, Dad was 30 years old and still single - which condition I gather greatly disturbed my grandmother! Dad worked as a traveling serviceman for Warren Refrigeration, and didn't stay in town very long at a time.

The fortune-teller arranged a blind date between my mother and Dad. Dad reported to me that Mrs. McKinley had told him she would leave the front porch light on so he'd recognize the house. She didn't realize that everyone on the street would have their porch lights on too, and Dad almost gave up trying to find the house!

Six months later, he and Mom were married. Dad told us they'd wanted a small, simple wedding in the pastor's study. Ha! Each time he called my mother, she told him "Bill, I've invited five more people." Everyone who knew either of them wanted to come! I think their wedding ended up being in the chapel, with about 100 guests.

So...happy anniversary, Mom and Dad!