White Lace….and promises

September 21, 2010 by 5 Comments

“Mom, Jaron and I are engaged! We’re getting married! We need to talk Wedding!”

 

Gulp!

Engaged, married, wedding plans? Jennifer, fresh out of college and with a new teaching career, suddenly on her way to becoming a wife? What happened to my little beach baby in her pink swimsuit and Pebbles Flintstone hairdo? What happened to the three-year old who once screamed out “more bones!” in our favorite Chinese restaurant and the laughing waiters scurried to bring her more spareribs?

Worse yet, me, the Mother of the Bride?

Okay, I can do this, I thought…..sure I can!

Following their joyful engagement announcement came the meeting with our future son-in-laws family; a very pleasant evening spent getting to know each other and talking….wedding plans. My husband and I have been fortunate to have them become part of our extended family. Faye and Leo were anxious to help in whatever way they could with (what I was secretly planning to become)….the wedding of the century.  From that point on, the creative wheels turned in my head day and night. Of course, I was armed with Martha Stewart’s Wedding Planner, a book no self-respecting mother should be without when a daughter prepares to marry.

I love Martha, regardless of the time she spent in the hoosegow.

And so, it came to pass, in the land of Kent, located in Putnam County, New York, a small Garden Wedding was planned for September 21, 1996 and…for only about 100 to 150 guests. As word of the event spread through the kingdoms of both families, people begged to be invited, prior to the mailed formalities, and what was to be an intimate gathering rapidly blossomed into one of epic proportions with a final head count of……275!

Helloooooo?  Like, almost no one sent back… “Regrets”?   Blame it on Martha.

My saved wedding organization lists take up an entire, 32 pound storage box marked “Jen & Jaron’s Wedding – 1996”. The rental company still sends us cards, thanking us for the fortune we spent on a tent, china, silver, glassware, linens, outside ovens, dance floor, tables, chairs…you name it, I rented it and my husband still gets misty-eyed when he passes by the, now-empty mattress (that is an Italian-thing).   It didn’t stop there.   We had the caterer from our favorite Italian restaurant, a Sushi Bar, Liquor, Beer on Tap, Fancy Portable Toilets, Waitresses, Bartenders, Disc Jockey, Strolling Mandolin Player, Stuffed Derma (that is a Jewish-thing) and…the “God Squad”….a Rabbi and Priest who officiated at the nuptials, both providing an uplifting and joyful experience for all who attended.

It was….a beautiful event, considering the weather that year had been horrible up to the big day. A summer of rain and humidity, soggy grounds at the tent site and endless preparations gave everyone stress, especially me.  On the morning of the wedding, as I sat in my workshop putting the finishing touches on all the flowers and the Wedding Cake, the sun came up and put its welcome arms around the day. The festivities started at noontime and lasted until almost midnight. People were everywhere, dancing, eating, drinking and laughing. If I had forgotten anything, it mattered to no one; suddenly, the stress was gone and I realized that the feeling of satisfaction that one gets when you’ve tried your best is… a very good thing.

Martha always says that.

I say….Happy Anniversary, Jennifer and Jaron!

                                                                                                                        jj-9-21-96-1

 

                                                                               

 

 

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Conversations with a (familiar) stranger…..

September 14, 2010 by 4 Comments

I’m going to date myself here….big time!  Who remembers a movie called “The Three Faces of Eve”?

Thought so.

Way back in 1957, Joanne Woodward played the starring role in this fascinating story about a real-life woman who suffered from Multiple-Personality Disorder caused by a traumatic childhood event.

You can Google it.

What does this have to do with the basis of my Blog which is about my mother’s affliction with Alzheimer’s disease?  Well, (and I’m reaching here) the whole “multiple personality” issue is something I experienced as a caregiver.  Some days, it was hilarious, and others…downright maddening as my mother went through interesting phases of identity.

A few brief recollections of Mother Didn’t Know Best. 

                  ( Dialogue key (Moi=Blue    Mother=Red)

Daily conversations almost always went like this and, yes, mom had a potty mouth.  What can I say.

“morning mom, it’s time to get up and get ready for day care”

“who the hell are you?”

“I’m your daughter”

“well… shit”

“don’t you remember me, mom?”

 “no, I don’t, I’m sorry.   I have to urinate, hurry UP”

 “mom, you have diapers on, you’ll be fine.  I’m going to get your clothes ready for today”

 “no I WON’T, dammit.  where’s my keys?”

“what do you need keys for?”

 “I have to go home now”

“how about we just get you into the bathroom?”

“for what?”

 And, one morning, Mom was waiting in the Breakfast Nook when I came down the hall.

“hi mom….where did you get that coffee?”

“what coffee?”

“uh…the cup in front of you?”

“oh, that man down the hall gave it to me”

“man down the hall?”

“yes….him” <pointing a finger>

Just then, my husband came into the kitchen and fessed-up to giving her coffee when he found her sitting there.
From that point forward, he came to be known only as…”the man down the hall”.

 

Evenings brought many interesting performances from my mother’s room, usually starting around 11 p.m. and continuing until about 4 a.m.  Keep in mind that my mother wore a Posey restraint in bed, to keep her from falling out and getting out the front door which she did at regular intervals.  When she was on stage, I was right outside her door, yawning, listening, holding a cup of coffee and gritting my teeth.

“sonofabitch, I can’t untie this!  help…..help….help!”

“that’s just great, no one is home”

“oh hi….can you get me scissors from that desk over there?”

“none?  SHIT!  help……help………HELP!”

Allow me to step into this conversation to state that there was no one in her room except for whoever was visible only to her.

 One more late night performance:

“Dr. Stein, can you please come to Pat Strollo’s room?”

“hellooooooooo…..Dr. Stein?”

“nurse, what’s the matter with you, can’t you hear me, dammit?  Get me Dr. Stein!”

“Dr. Stein, I want to go home!”

“nurse, I have to urinate”

“Shit, where the hell is everybody, I have to get to work!”

“Dr. Stein, I’m going to report you!”

 

Jumping in here again to state, first,  that my mother’s maiden name was Strollo;  her married name, Smith, ceased to exist as Alzheimer’s marched through her brain. Mom was in the Twilight Zone going back about 60 years or more that night and, I have no idea where Dr. Stein came from, or the nurse.  With no offense to anyone of the Jewish faith who might read this, my mother never had a physician who wasn’t a Christian.  I still cannot figure that one out.

Shortly before my Mom died, she was sitting on the couch and when I walked over she exclaimed, “There she is, there’s my daughter!” I quickly went and sat down next to her.  For a brief time, there was recognition and somewhat sane conversation as my mother asked me what was wrong with her and why she couldn’t remember; she was suddenly aware and her mind focused on the present.  In a moment of sheer stupidity, on my part, I told her to wait and I would run and make us both coffee so we could sit and talk some more.

Cookies and coffee in hand, I excitedly returned to sit with her;  as I did, she looked up and said, “Oh hi!  I’m sorry, but I forgot your name.”


She was gone; back into the deepest shadows of her memories and I was back on the outside, still trying to get in.

Two weeks later, she passed away, still not remembering my name.

 

 

 

 

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Rainy afternoons and Bridal Showers……

September 12, 2010 by 13 Comments

best-friends-friendship-quotes-girlfriends-love-Favim.com-3403575

 

Today was a good day for a Bridal Shower; not perfect, mind you, just enjoyable, with a hint of Fall lingering in the air. Cloudy skies gave way to sprinklings of rain while small gusts of wind kept peeking into the huge tent that rested on the banks of the Hudson River.  Inside, guests shivered and kept talking about “how nice this would have been if it was sunny out” while they sipped their Mimosa’s.  Off in a corner was a table piled high with treasure, gifts of all sizes wrapped in an assortment of colors, ribbons and silk flowers, one prettier than the other. You could almost hear little voices from within each box yelling “Open Me First!”  

Sitting at a table close to me was my best friend, Helene`, from a long time ago.  We’ve managed to see each other, now and then, at events both happy and sad; I often think back to the times I made believe that I was part of her family while we were growing up, spending as much time as possible at her home.  Years ago, we conjured up some distant relations from my side and hers that made us family and always called each other “Cuz”.

This Sunday gathering, of family and friends, was in honor of her nephew’s future wife and it presented one more opportunity to talk about how Helene` and I first met.  Back in the 1940’s, her father dated my mother until he went off to war, ended up being stationed in France and met a lovely woman who would later become his wife.  Meanwhile…stateside, my mother, a singer with the U.S.O, met a sailor who was on Navy leave before shipping out to the South Pacific; that man would eventually be my father.

Are you following all this?  Good.

The men returned from their military and naval service, married, had kids and stayed friendly, even visiting once or twice after the war ended.  Helene` and I met up again in Junior High School, not having seen each other since we were 4 years old.  During those few years we shared teen-age heartbreak over boyfriends and the fun of weekly roller-skating at a nearby Boy’s Club.   Sadly, like too many friends, we drifted apart before high school ended; she went away to Grace Downs Airline School and I went to work for New York Telephone….and envied her.  We connected again in time for me to be the Maid of Honor at her wedding and then she was once again..gone.  Our lives went on to take many different turns but when we did manage to see each other, she always seemed so happy and content….and I envied her still.  

Recently, I sent her the link to my blog and today, we sat and talked like little had changed between us….but something had.  We both realized that, as friends, we shared some, but not all secrets.  Each of us had things going on in our lives that we kept hidden inside.  Did that somehow make us less than best friends?  If either of us had known some deep dark secret about the other would we have even remained friends?

I’d like to believe we would have.

I will see her, in just 4 more weeks, at her nephew’s wedding; we’ll sit and talk some more and, when that day’s joyful festivities end, go our separate ways once again.  But, like today, I’ll tell her that I love her when we say good-bye.  She was a positive part of my life; I wouldn’t have gotten through a lot of the pain without her, although she never knew anything about it.

Maybe that’s what true friendship is really all about.

 

workshop-button-1   Tell us about the moment you met your high school best friend.  This Writing Prompt from Mama Kat’s took me back to a piece I wrote back in 2010.  I’ve had friendships over the years but this one will always remain categorized under “best friends”.  A category of just one.

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