Author's Note

Author's Note:

My book, Marshall’s Journey, The Power Of Understanding Alzheimer's, is available at these fine booksellers:

Click here: Marshall's Journey at Amazon

Click here: Marshall's Journey at Barnes & Noble

41 - I Do What?

I Do What ??

I watch football. As a 90-year-old woman I know that sounds strange… Actually I’m an avid fan of our San Diego football team. But many years ago even that team came second to the Minnesota Vikings. But that’s a long story.

It was my early years of working for 3M Company and I was familiar with traveling to St Paul, Minnesota between Christmas and New Years. The company set us up in a nice hotel and we spent much of our daylight hours in meetings. That is where we learned about new products, were taught better sales techniques, and were encouraged to do our very best. We were also given free time on the weekend, and I knew exactly what I was going to do with mine. I was going to see the San Diego Charges play the Minneapolis Vikings with the two tickets my brother had bought for me as a surprise.

I couldn’t find anyone to use the extra ticket and go to the game with me, but I was determined to go even if the weather was something like 9 degrees. I would not miss this chance to see Fran Tarkington play. So I called a cab and asked the driver if there was anyplace nearby where a bus might arrive to take Viking fans to the Minneapolis stadium.

“Just up the street is the Red Barn.” he replied “It’s a restaurant and bar. There probably are people waiting there already.” It took him just a few minutes to get me there. I climbed out of the cab, paid him and thanked him for his help.

“Lady,” he said “you be careful. Them shoes you’re wearing ain’t too good on the ice.” I thanked him for his concern, entered the bar and ordered a Bloody Mary. It just seemed appropriate and I could take small sips. “You new around here? “the bartender asked. “Very new” I answered “I’m from San Diego.” “Well I guess you’re here to root for your team,” he said. “Oh! No,” I replied “I’m here to root for the Vikings.”

“Hey, you guys,” he yelled into the restaurant where many Viking fans were sipping coffee and waiting for the bus. “We’ve got a newcomer here. She lives in San Diego and has come here because her favorite team is our Vikings. Come in and meet her.” It was really fun waiting for the bus. They all understood that my support was built mainly on their quarterback, Fran Tarkington. They all seemed to feel about the same. He was everyone’s hero.

The bus was a hubbub of sound with differences of opinions and fans knowing what they would do if they were the coach. All noisy fun and I loved it. The excitement, warm-heartedness and acceptance of me was so very special.

When we arrived at the stadium, many fans had left the bus before I started to climb down. At the foot of the stairs two men were waiting for me. To my surprise each took an elbow, lifted me off the ground and carried me that way into the stadium. Then they explained, “Honey, there’s no way you could have walked over that ice with those shoes on.” They grinned, and I smiled and thanked them and left to find my seat.

The end-zone seats were like bleachers and my seat was three rows up. All around me were people that knew me and, though I was freezing, I felt so exhilarated. I could hardly wait for the first kickoff. It came and the game began and I screamed and yelled with the best of them. Maybe that’s why I didn’t freeze.

I did welcome half time when I could go into the stadium for a little warmth and a cigarette. When I returned my new friends were returning also. The first young couple handed me a pair of gloves to protect my hands. A young man and his girl arrived after that with a knit hat for my freezing head. It was not just what they were giving me. It was a gesture of such wonderful kindness that my eyes filled with tears.

Before long everyone had returned to their seats. The fellow who sat in front of me turned to tell me to look up. “Turn around and look up,” he said. I did and about four rows up a man was passing down a sleeping bag. “Climb in,” he yelled “and zip it up. It’ll keep you warm” and I did and it did.

When we arrived back at the Red Barn my friends would not hear of me calling a cab. They insisted that I share pizza with them and talk about the game. Later a couple drove me back to the hotel. After thanking them sincerely, I returned to my room, closed the door and with my back leaning against it, realized that I could not have dreamt of a day so completely wonderful.

Of course the Vikings won. Fran scrambled as only he could and I lived the wonder of the day. It’s a day I have never forgotten. It remains in my heart as a memory of kindness, caring and an incredible football game.

40 - My Depression

My Depression

Webster’s Dictionary: Low Spirits…Gloominess…Dejection

Have I known depression? You bet I have . . . long ago during my children’s adolescent years when I found myself to be a maternal stranger in a strange land. To explain, my children grew up within the protection of a large and loving family. The family consisted of a grandmother, a great-grandmother, a grandfather, an uncle and the three of us, my daughter, my son and me. We all lived together in what I believed to be harmony. At least we all lived together in a household of high moral values, of respect for elders, policemen, teachers and their religion.

It was when both children entered Junior High School that I felt the time had arrived for me to go to work, find an apartment for us and continue our lives as a single family. Bruce was fourteen and Robin twelve when we made that move. I went to work in the Graphics Arts department of Convair and as my income increased we moved to a nicer apartment in a lovely neighborhood.

That is where I learned about depression. Bruce was seventeen and Robin fifteen and their lives were embedded in the era of that time. The introduction of drugs, the non-importance of respect and the sexual revolution were all a part of it. I was set down in
the middle of the hippy era and I didn’t know how to deal with it. I fell into a deep depression, not understanding and doing all the wrong things, saying all the wrong things, demanding all the wrong things and making all the wrong mistakes. As my children demanded their own independence, I faded into the total darkness of depression. It took many years before I lived to be free of that disease and the mistakes I made. My mistakes created havoc between me and my children, who I loved much more than I expressed.

Now I am 90 years old and have lived many years free of depression, not even when my doctors told me that I had only six months to live. That was four years ago and I have lived and loved this life I now lead. I have been blessed by one special miracle after another. There are miracles that come into my home when people I love walk through my door. There is the miracle of the San Diego Hospice that has cared for me throughout all these years. There is the miracle of family and friendships that know no bound. And I believed that I had been the luckiest woman in the world until the last few weeks when I, once again, became deeply depressed.

What happened is that I became ill with something between a cold and the flu. It has been almost epidemic here in San Diego and I became one of the victims. For a short while the illness did not eafect me emotionally. It was not until after two new medications were prescribed for me that I became depressed. Obviously I was allergic to them, but I didn’t realize that at the beginning. I didn’t even recognize the depression that became a part of my emotional reactions. And again I said the wrong things, did the wrong things and made all the wrong mistakes.

I am now in an “I should have known better” stage. I do have idiosyncratic drug reactions and have always been afflicted with them. I know I must always check my reaction to new drugs. Failing to do that caused depression and I became too sure of what I thought and of myself. My agitation and feelings were way beyond my norm. I put myself in a “have to be right” position and I haven’t been like that for many years. What I was saying was silly and somewhat child-like. I began criticizing what is important in my life . . . that which I truly love and respect.

As soon as I realized what was going on, I stopped taking the drug even though it stopped the back-pain. Stopping the drug also made me understand that many of us might take a giant step backward, forgetting how wonderful, kind and gentle living can be. I often wonder if we are placed in difficult medical positions so that we may be able to relate to the same ailment in others. We then can be truly empathetic because we’ve been there, done that and can understand those who are suffering the darkness of depression.

The problem that exists is when severe depression is not recognized. That I’m having a few bad days is not clinical depression. Medical help is desperately needed for those who suffer with constant depression, Though I realize that the depressed sufferer must be willing to improve with medical and emotional help, there can also be a pair of welcoming arms and loving hearts that will be there to hold and love them when they are ready. That is the wonder of love. That is the salvation of the needy.

39 - Expectation

Expectation

Expectation may not be the root of all evil but is frequently very much involved. Many divorces, perhaps the majority, can be based on expectation. Lost friendships might also be included. Seldom is it realized that what you expect, and don’t receive, can cause havoc in any relationship. It also is possible that you might not realize that you are operating in the expectant mode.

You may come home from work and expect your children to be delighted with your arrival. They’re not. They only want your attention to tell you what happened to them
in school today. No “Hi! Glad you’re home Mom, when’s dinner?” More important where’s the hug or the kiss or maybe a great smile when they see you? That doesn’t seem too hard, does it? And you become annoyed with their lack of a warm welcome. Irritation might even set in and can be the beginning of hidden anger, but expectation is the original culprit.

After dinner they may expect you to listen to something that has been bothering them. The truth is that you have to get to your computer right away and send in your daily reports. You expect them to understand. They won’t, anymore than you will understand not getting the welcome home that you expected. That is the beginning of tension brought on by expectation. You each expect tolerance from one another and expect-
ations too often come first. Patience, understanding and concern must wait. That all sounds like exaggeration. It’s not. Similar situations occur daily in all stages of life.

There’s a great problem with expectation. It often invades the relationships that are most important to us. Your children, your spouse, your family and we could go on to friend-ships and business associates. Our opinion of how others should behave and how they should react must all be in accordance to what we expect of them. The wonder is that when expectation is removed, acceptance takes its place. Now life becomes easier with more understanding. You don’t expect your children to come running to kiss you when you arrive home. Instead when you open the door, you open your arms to hug them and joyfully accept the moment of being their Mom. They’ll soon understand that greeting Mom is wonderful.

I’ve spoken of parent and child but the same concept includes husband and wife, families and friends. When expectations are gone, understanding, accepting and caring takes its place. Life takes on a new peace and beauty.

There was an old adage that I’ve altered some. For me it says:

“The road to Hell Is Paved With Expectations.”