Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘change’

If anything, I would say that Boy Scout Mark had an extraordinary spurt of character growth at the tender age of 12.  Not only had he learned to cope with some of life’s heavy loads through what had been fun and games for the older scouts, he would also receive insight into another of his character traits a few weeks after the big hike.  While being a pre-teen at 12 can be a stepping stone into growing up, age doesn’t really matter as long as those valuable lessons learned are incorporated into one’s life.

Mark had already learned that if you remove the excess rocks – things you don’t really need — from your pack – your life — the load is lighter, and he cheerfully applied what he had learned to the remainder of the 50-miler.  It wasn’t as if Scoutmaster Ken hadn’t been aware of the shenanigans pulled off by the older boys; what he had been impressed with was that Mark didn’t complain. He also noticed the camaraderie that developed among the multi-aged troop during the seven days in the mountains where they recognized that the competition was not among one another, but between all of them and the challenge of the wilderness.

Mark continued to write:  “We learned about trees, poison oak, and edible and non-edible plants along the trail.  We crossed a glacier, and ate food with a little dirt; we learned respect for nature, which was all around us, and we learned to respect each other, and of course, to always be prepared.  It was seven days filled with learning, but it was what happened after the trip that changed my life forever.”

Ken always liked to give each boy the recognition he deserved at the Courts of Honor which were conducted for not only the young men, but for friends and families.  The Court was always well attended, and after the 50-miler the room soon filled with eager scouts and proud parents.  One by one the honor and merit badges were awarded, including a special 50-miler remembrance in the shape of a hiking boot.  “But I had not received my award,” continued Mark, realizing that all of the awards had been handed out.  “Then my Scoutmaster called me to the front as he had all the other boys. ‘I want you to know,’ Scoutmaster Romick stated, ‘that in all my years of scouting I have never seen a new scout like Mark.  He never complained, nor did he give up, not once did he quit on the entire trip.   He is not a quitter nor is he a complainer.  I am amazed and impressed.’  He then handed me my award and patted me on the back.”  Applause filled the room.  Basking in his moment of glory Mark later declared, “I believe I grew 12 feet tall that evening.

“That statement of 30 seconds, and the following accolades, changed my character and my life forever.  An adult had recognized a positive trait in me, told me about it and I believed it!”

For Mark it was a year of epiphany, discovering a part of his self, part of who he was which provided a guideline to the man he wanted to become.  With that inner knowledge he established a creed of determination by which he lived, and he has continued to do so all of his life.  Now, a grown man with a family of his own, Mark still recalls that evening with Ken, and wrote, “Even now as I think of my Scoutmaster I thank God for that man who showed me the way.” 

When I read Mark’s words I am in awe of my husband who was a very likable, but ordinary man, yet he was able to reach through that invisible armor of youth, see the boy’s potential and impact him with self-motivation and power.  I am humbled at Mark’s accolades for Ken.  But even more I am inspired by Mark’s every-day use of his own established creed, which I’m striving to make my own.

As the “boss” caregiver for Ken with his Alzheimer’s there are times when I would like to quit and times when I am tempted to complain.  Actually, I know that neither is an option.  I’m not going to quit, and I have found it doesn’t do much good to complain; besides few want to listen.  Of course, we are allowed to vent and to share our sorrows and woes with friends who have fought the battle, and with my wonderful internet friends who read my blog and share their stories about their ups and downs, their joys and sorrows while living with AD.  They provide (and I hope I do as well) the soft shoulder to cry on, and with them I can vent – knowing that venting is good.  Even the best of machines needs a vent.   But I’ll try not to complain or whine about those things which cannot be changed, and I’ll remember the wisdom of a 12-year-old boy who grew to be 12 feet tall in 30 seconds because of Ken.

Read Full Post »

For a generation or more we have spent Christmas Eve with our daughter  Julie and her family.   In addition to her brothers and sister, with their families, there has been other in-laws, friends, cousins and anyone else who needed a place to be for the Holiday.   In the past Julie’s house has been noisy, crowded and filled with merriment.  However, as children grow up, get married, move away and are caught up in careers or have other new family obligations, our traditions are in a state of flux.   

Last night there were only five little ones under 10 plus  an adorable baby, Rylie Ann, moving from the crawling stage to the standing stage, and two young adult grandchildren.  Their contemporaries were 800 miles away visiting their parents, brothers, sisters and extended family.  It was that distant house filled with the sounds of Christmas we had been so accustomed to hearing: the very joyful sound of lots of children and young people. 

Ken’s Christmas benchmark was noticable this year.  He has become somewhat frail looking, and moves like an older man with faltering footsteps and waving arms rather than the robust mature person he was before AD.   As we approached the steps to Julie’s house I noticed he was fearful of venturing onto the stone-laid walk.  Even though he was supported by two of his sons, he felt along the stones with his feet wanting to be certain they were solid.  Once inside the house, I noticed he was much more subdued during the evening — almost like a shy, clinging child in new surroundings.   It’s times like this when I say he is like Velco. 

Later on, Ken felt more at ease and decided to get a drink of water in the kitchen.  Carefully, he meandered his way between the glass coffee table and the couch.  He did well, but on his return trip, he took a quick right turn at the middle of the clear table top.  (He has macular degeneration in his right eye and his poor vision is now even worse.)  Blindsided and in the dim lights of Christmas he thought the way was clear.   Suddenly, he was falling right onto the glass and into the sofa on the opposite side.  I could see him grimace as he went down.  Immediately, I worried that he might have injured his artificial hip.  The men who were close by leaped to his assistance, but being the stubborn, independent man he is Ken wouldn’t allow the help.  Instead he struggled to right himself.  Although the glass is about three quarters of an inch in thickness we were all concerned it might be broken.  If it wasn’t, the possibility of more pressure on its tilted position  against the base might be the final insult causing it to break and really do him injury.   Still refusing help, he managed to climb over the glass and pull himself erect.  The men picked up the top placing it back onto the supporting base.  No damage and no harm done except for Ken’s shin bone, which was pretty well skinned.

Within a few minutes he had forgotten the accident and settled down next to me.  All evening long he asked,  “Whose house is this?”  Repeatedly I answered, “Julie’s house.”  Not once, but it seemed like a hundred times.    Comparing benchmarks, I could see considerable change during the past 365 days.

We had dinner, opened gifts, exchanged small talk and everyone went home.  As soon as I entered the house I slipped him two Tylenol PM tablets.  He had been sleepy in the car, but by the time we got inside took the pills and brushed his teeth, I could sense him slipping into one of his other characters.  It could have been 12-year-old Buddy, who guards the house like a stockade with the Indians circling.   It was midnight and I was so ready for sleep, but wanted to wrap a few more packages.  He began pacing, rattling the outside doors to make sure they were locked.  After three or four rounds, I lost my temper and he ordered me to leave.  When he does this lately, I lock myself in the computer room and let him pound on the door while I busy myself with “whatever.”    He finally settled down and I wrapped my gifts.   It was 3:00 a.m.

When I woke on Christmas morning, it was 10:00 a.m.   Feeling somewhat refreshed, I quickly got up, dressed and spread out a small morning buffet to munch on when Keith, Sabina, granddaughter Jessica, and Kenney and Peggy came.   I wondered if I would feel up to driving to Antioch with the gifts for Sean and Lani and family.  That decision would come later.  The late-morning visit with two of our sons, their wives and Jessica was lovely.  I was glad they came.  Jess is such a sweetheart and had made me several gifts. 

Approaching 3:00, my morning family had other places to go and friends to see.  A little late for us to be leaving for Sean’s, but if we left right then, opened the gifts and had a bite to eat, we could be home by 9:00.   In addition, we needed to be home when Tim (Julie’s husband) brought their three dogs for a half week’s stay.  They were off to Atlanta to visit their son Pete, ReNea and their four-year-old son, Mason.

It’s been about three  years since we lost our last dog.  Even though I miss not having an animal in the house, I don’t miss having to clean up the piles of hair that seem to float in the air landing on and under everything.  Nor do I miss the compulsory yard duty clean-up brought about by their presence.   It will be interesting to see how Ken does with three spunky dogs.  Meanwhile, Happy Holidays.

Read Full Post »