Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Anne and Harold

Mom and Me

This past week, I moved my mom into an independent living facility. It’s a lovely place, full of well-earned luxuries and friends she already knows. And I feel better knowing she’s in an apartment with a daily check-in and health facilities directly on campus.

After our big moving day, we enjoyed dinner in the company of two of her friends, Anne and Harold Hall. Harold is 90-years-old and Anne wouldn't elaborate beyond telling me she’s in her 80's. It is a woman’s prerogative, after all. With a cozy knit hat pulled over her head and a warm coat and thick sweater on, even in the warmth of the restaurant, she cut quite a figure.

Clusters of four to five people sat at the various tables, each dressed up, some more than others, the ladies' hair fully coiffed. Some were quite able-bodied; others were stooped or used a cane or walker to help them negotiate. But as they sat at the tables, they were just friends. Laughter and soft talking settled on the air adding to the dining ambiance. Scattered here and there were a few of us “young folks”—visiting family. When you eat with people in their 80's and 90's, 48 gets to be young!

Anne sat next to me, never removing her coat, picking over the roll and butter, dubious of how everything was cooked. Harold and Anne have been married for over 60 years. He is hard of hearing, but he didn’t need to hear his wife’s words. They communicated through looks and smiles.“She doesn’t like anything on the menu,” he says with a small smile. “They don’t quite cook anything to her liking. I think it’s all right, though.”

She rolls her eyes, a tip of her tongue darting out and makes a face at him. She turns to me. “We used to live in Denver, you know. When was that, Harold?” she asks. 

He looks up, calculating the years and decades that have gone by. “Well, it was shortly after we were married.”

“I was pregnant and had one child already. We had six kids, you know.”

“That was over 60 years ago,” he finishes. “We lived out where that theater shooting occurred.”

“Aurora,” I complete for him, remembering the tragedy that has forever changed so many lives.

“Right,” he says. “Of course, at the time, there was nothing out there. We were the first development. I think our house is still there. We built it ourselves.” It’s hard to imagine that area of Denver ever being remote or undeveloped.

Anne moves on to another topic. “Harold flew cargo planes in WWII,” she tells me. “He flew from Washington to Alaska to deliver supplies. We were lucky. He never saw any combat. But he wasn't allowed to talk to the Russians stationed there. They could never talk to them.” 

I try to pry for more information. This is a part of our history almost completely gone. But Anne has moved on to poking at her pork loin. “They didn't bring me the gravy I asked for."

I look around at the balding and gray heads, the lines finely etched in their faces, and envy the easy friendships they share with each other. As people pass by, Harold or Anne grab and arm or a hand and introduce my mom, the new kid on the block.

I wonder what I’ll be like should I be fortunate to live into my 80's or even, like Harold, to be 90. He still goes to the business he started and owned, the one his sons now continue. Every morning Anne gets him up, feeds him breakfast, and someone comes by to pick him up so he can put in a day at the office. Maybe this sense of having to be somewhere, watching his sons carry on the family business, gives him a reason to keep smiling.

“Are you going to get the ice cream?” Anne asks me. “It’s Hershey’s – the very best.” She launches into a story about, Mildred, her best friend for over 60 years, who recently passed away, and their youthful adventures of going to Isaly's, a Pittsburgh institution, for ice cream sundaes. “We’d get every topping they had—caramel, chocolate, marshmallow.” She smiles, and I can almost see the kid in her again. But her eyes flicker briefly with sadness. It must be difficult to lose life-long friends. The hazard of living long enough.

I hope as I age, my stories aren't lost. I hope I find myself among fine company and mostly, I hope my kids tolerate my quirks and oddities. I might just wear my winter coat and hat to the dinner table too.

20 comments:

  1. I recently visited my Grandma in an Assisted Living Facility. They are so good to her there, I love how as they get older, stories seem to repeat. I think this is the way of it. We repeat these stories so others won't forget. I will repeat my own stories someday. That is if I remember. ;)

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    1. Here's hoping we remember. It was scary-amusing watching them try to remember names. "You know, that lady at church, the one whose husband used to work downtown." I'm practically there. My kids will tell you I repeat stories now.

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  2. Histories are always important, and I know that some stories are worth repeating! A lovely slice of life here, Julie...

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  3. Thanks Mary Ann. Maybe it's the writer in me, but I love listening to stories. I would have pestered poor Anne to death but didn't want her to give me the look she gave Harold.

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  4. Sounds like a great place your mom found. I so regret the loss of all those from the WWII era. They really were a great generation.

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    1. Susan, I so agree. I saw on Mom's activity schedule, there was an independent film maker coming to their campus to interview and film Vets for their stories. I'm glad -- there's so much richness, wisdom and lessons in their stories.

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  5. The place sounds perfect for your mom and Harold and Anne seem to be wonderful. I know that must give you a sense of relief that your mom is In Fine Company.

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    1. Thanks Mike. Yes, it was good to see her get settled in and be surrounded with so many people she knows. I wanted to sit down and talk to all these people and hear their stories. So many lives who have seen so much and too soon they won't be around to tell anyone.

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  6. I loved this. My grandmother, a driving force in my life, used to tell stories of growing up in the Great Depression, among other things. My great grandmothers - one an immigrant from Germany, the other from Wolf's Point, MT - used to talk about the roaring 20's, the Depression, Prohibition, WWII. Most of my cousins, aunts & uncles were too busy...I sat nearby whenever possible, asking questions, and begging for more. I'm the only one in the family who knows those stories, memories. And I use them in my own.

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    1. I wish I had recorded more of our family history. Shortly before my father passed away, I tried to pick his brain for stories. He and my mom reminisced a bit. One story they told was of living on an navy base and meeting Glenn Armstrong briefly at a party. They mentioned it so casually. They couldn't have mentioned a movie star that would have struck me with more awe!

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  7. It can be such a difficult descision to move a loved one to an assisted care living fascility. I am so happy for your Mother that she has such wonderful friends there already.
    And I am beyond happy that you didn't just tolerate these wonderful memories, but enjoyed and remembered them.
    Too many our age and younger see taking the time to stop, listen, and talk as a bother, a drain on their precious time. I see it as a privalege. These stories and memories are how these wonderful souls will live on here after they;re gone. Thanks for making sure these two amazing people live on...

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    1. Chris, thanks for stopping by and commenting. This would have been more difficult, but no kidding this place is the epitome of posh. I want to move in. And it was her decision, so the emotional aspect was much less impactful than it might have otherwise been.

      I love listening to stories from people-- young or old. I used to deliver meals to shut-ins and I think I annoyed the crap out of them always asking for their stories.

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  8. There are so many stories that are forgotten. My father-in-law's father fought for the German army, captured by the Russians and held in Syberia for a while. The stories my father-in-law tells that he got from his father are simply amazing. We have to remember to listen to the 'wiser' of us more often ;)

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    1. Thanks for visiting and I completely agree. I love the stories and always feel this need to write them down --especially those from our families. They are our heritage.

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  9. Hope my children can tolerate my quirks too !

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    1. Thanks for stopping by. I figure I'm breaking my kids in early with the quirks I already have in abundance.

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    2. I loved your story Julie!!!! What beautiful memories to carry with you......

      Your story reminded me of time spent at the Nursing Home in Kansas where I moved my Dad. The stories I heard from the Residents there came flooding back to my mind and once again, I had to smile......I LOVED hearing their stories too!!
      One time I was sitting in one of the many beautiful seating areas waiting for Dad to finish up with some personal business and this Lady comes and plops down beside me and she asks "Do you know what we're going to do for activity today?" I told her no I do not. Then she asked "What time does it start?" She kept fussing with her watch and sweater she had draped over her shoulders. She told me how she used to live out on her beautiful farm......and then suddenly popped up and said "I've got to go!!! I'm late!!" She was gone a few minutes then came back and we had the same conversation again as if she had just met me.....she did this about three times...... :) I took that as a smile from God and sat back and enjoyed our visit......again!!! LOL!!!

      Thanks for the story!!!
      Deb

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    3. Hi Deb-- thanks for visiting. I love your take on this conversation. So much joy to be received in the process of giving, isn't there? Somewhere, back on that farm, a lady lived and found joy and that's what stays with her. :)

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  10. Your blog posts are really good, Julie. This one reminds me of all the stories that go missing because an elder living alone or in assisted living has no one who cares to listen.

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    1. Thanks Pat. This blog has been a great, "safe" place to just have fun and practice different writing styles.

      I agree that so many of these life stories and wisdom are at risk of extinction. One of my favorite volunteer jobs was delivering meals to shut-ins. As much as I could, I tried to get people talking. I probably drove them a bit nuts.

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