I AM VERY FORTUNATE TO HAVE BOTH OF MY PARENTS WHO ARE RESPECTIVELY 82 AND 83. RELATIVELY YOUNG AS I WAS AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL DURING THEIR TEENAGE YEARS. AT 18, MY MOTHER WAS LEFT ALONE WITH MYSELF AND MY BROTHER WHILE MY DAD WENT "OFF TO WAR". I WAS ONLY 2 YRS OLD AND DIDN'T SEE HIM AGAIN UNTIL I WAS 5. MY MOTHER RETURNED TO HER PARENTS HOME WHERE SHE KEPT HOUSE FOR HER PARENTS WHO WERE BOTH WORKING FOR THE WAR EFFORT, AND HER YOUNGER SISTER AND BROTHER, AS WELL AS MYSELF AND MY BROTHER WHO WAS JUST 11 MONTHS YOUNGER . WHILE THESE WERE VERY DIFFICULT TIMES FOR BOTH OF MY PARENTS, THEY HAVE MANAGED TO SURVIVE IN WONDERFUL HEALTH AND, CONTINUE TO PROVIDE STRENGTH AND COURAGE TO MYSELF, MY CHILDREN AND GRANDCHILDREN. I AM VERY THANKFUL THAT THEY ARE HEALTHY AND ABLE TO BE A VERY INTEGRAL PART OF ALL OF OUR LIVES. THEY ARE ALSO AVID U OF A FANS AND WOULDN'T MISS A FOOTBALL OR BASKETBALL GAME FOR ANY REASON. Tucson, Feb. 1, 2006 |
Why not share stories about your living parents? Just type in the blanks below and press the submit button. And, if you have a recent photo, just attach it to an e-mail and send it to chs1959@aol.com. |
I've never known a time when my Dad (Alvin Lindstrom) was not around. He's always been there, and I naively think he always will be. He's 89 and in great health for a man of his years. He walks 2 miles a day and still plays golf. He is sharp as a tack. Mom died 17 years ago and he hooked up with his old high school girlfriend and married her. She's a year younger than him. They have a great life in Tucson filled with activities. Our only "age" dispute we have concerns his driving. I think it's about time he hangs up the license and depends on others for transportation. But, he doesn't see it that way. So I just walk away from any discussions of that shaking my head and saying, "Well, he's over 21, that is up to him." My Dad is an absolute testament to clean living. No stress; never let anything bother him. Never smoked. Booze in moderation. Plenty of exercise. Healthy food...lots of fish as our scandinavian heritage would indicate. Compare this to my own former lifestyle (exactly the opposite of above) and I know why when we are together here at my business in Nevada people think we are brothers. He looks younger and I look older. Thus...we appear to be the same age! |
I wanted to share some thoughts as our respective mothers age (and if you are lucky, your father, too. Mine died at 88 about 10 years ago.) I was in Tucson in August to move my mother, Dorothy Burkhart, from the general resident area at Cypress Court Assisted Living to a new room, Room 122. She is now in the memory care center. Dorothy seems much happier there, so far. The hospice nurse visits every few days. She's in a wheelchair, and can't stand on her right foot, so she's like a great big 93-year-old rag doll. She smiles through a lot of pain. I stayed through her meals for two days and bedtime: They have three very strong women who get her through the ritual of bath and dressing for bed, looking like a curious modern ballet ("Dance of the Dolls"?). Always keeps her sense of humor. I gave an improptu talk one day to all the residents on "Who Am I Anyway? And What Is a Life When You Are Old?" My answer was based on "The Layers" by Stanley Kunitz, a poem that answers the questions beautifully, with references to "slow fires" (ties to loved ones) and "stones on the road" (each experience of old age). (It's left.) After the talk, one oldish woman held up her hand and said the poem reminded her of a story (being removed from her house by her children who wanted to sell it). She wept, and some of us did too, and reassured her. It's part of the "wreckage" the poem talks about, I think, that we must put aside. Our parents have plenty of wonderful "layers" to nourish them and us. New York, Aug. 23, 2005 We're sorry to announce that shortly after Ford wrote this, his mother passed away peacefully in Tucson.. |
No matter what your relationship has been as you were growing up and became an adult, it seems that when an aging parent needs you, you respond in the best possible way you can. Sometimes distances, work or your own health get in the way, but I was raised to respect my elders, help them, revere their knowledge and civility and the fact that they lived through one of the most difficult times in American history -- the Depression. That experience is imprinted on their thinking. (All leftovers saved, wash out plastic baggies, savor a pork chop, turn off lights when you leave the room and say, "Thank you", not "No problem.") My mom at 87 is wondrous in one breath and exasperating in another. And what is really weird, I feel like HER parent. All the things she tried to teach me that I fought, I am giving right back to her now but with a softer, more understanding side. I am a liberated, self sufficient woman and she is in awe of that and is learning from me because of becoming a widow for the THIRD time at 87. Let's keep a dialog going about this and maybe have Ray establish a link where we can share funny and poignant stories about our parents. Tucson, Aug. 22, 2005 |
CLASS OF |
Catalina High School, Tucson, Arizona, USA |
Role Reversal: TAKING CARE OF OUR PARENTS It seems they spent their lives taking care of us, whether we were in diapers, going to the prom, or recovering from a divorce. Now our parents are in their 80's or 90's, and we find ourselves taking care of them. It is not easy; it just doesn't seem right. Our classmates reflect here on this stage of their lives. If you are one of the fortunate few to still have a parent around, why not share your thoughts with us on this page. We've made it easy. At the bottom of this page is a place to write about your feelings and send to us. Thanks. |
"The Layers" by Stanley Kunitz I have walked through many lives, some of them my own, and I am not who I was, though some principle of being abides, from which I struggle not to stray. When I look behind, as I am compelled to look before I can gather strength to proceed on my journey, I see the milestones dwindling toward the horizon and the slow fires trailing from the abandoned camp-sites, over which scavenger angels wheel on heavy wings. Oh, I have made myself a tribe out of my true affections, and my tribe is scattered! How shall the heart be reconciled to its feast of losses? In a rising wind the manic dust of my friends, those who fell along the way, bitterly stings my face. Yet I turn, I turn, exulting somewhat, with my will intact to go wherever I need to go, and every stone on the road precious to me. In my darkest night, when the moon was covered and I roamed through wreckage, a nimbus-clouded voice directed me: "Live in the layers, not on the litter." Though I lack the art to decipher it, no doubt the next chapter in my book of transformations is already written. I am not done with my changes. |
No matter what your relationship has been as you were growing up and became an adult, it seems that when an aging parent needs you, you respond in the best possible way you can. Sometimes distances, work or your own health get in the way, but I was raised to respect my elders, help them, revere their knowledge and civility and the fact that they lived through one of the most difficult times in American history -- the Depression. That experience is imprinted on their thinking. (All leftovers saved, wash out plastic baggies, savor a pork chop, turn off lights when you leave the room and say, "Thank you", not "No problem.") My mom at 87 is wondrous in one breath and exasperating in another. And what is really weird, I feel like HER parent. All the things she tried to teach me that I fought, I am giving right back to her now but with a softer, more understanding side. I am a liberated, self sufficient woman and she is in awe of that and is learning from me because of becoming a widow for the THIRD time at 87. Let's keep a dialog going about this and maybe have Ray establish a link where we can share funny and poignant stories about our parents. Tucson, Aug. 22, 2005 |
I wanted to share some thoughts as our respective mothers age (and if you are lucky, your father, too. Mine died at 88 about 10 years ago.) I was in Tucson in August to move my mother, Dorothy Burkhart, from the general resident area at Cypress Court Assisted Living to a new room, Room 122. She is now in the memory care center. Dorothy seems much happier there, so far. The hospice nurse visits every few days. She's in a wheelchair, and can't stand on her right foot, so she's like a great big 93-year-old rag doll. She smiles through a lot of pain. I stayed through her meals for two days and bedtime: They have three very strong women who get her through the ritual of bath and dressing for bed, looking like a curious modern ballet ("Dance of the Dolls"?). Always keeps her sense of humor. I gave an improptu talk one day to all the residents on "Who Am I Anyway? And What Is a Life When You Are Old?" My answer was based on "The Layers" by Stanley Kunitz, a poem that answers the questions beautifully, with references to "slow fires" (ties to loved ones) and "stones on the road" (each experience of old age). (It's left.) After the talk, one oldish woman held up her hand and said the poem reminded her of a story (being removed from her house by her children who wanted to sell it). She wept, and some of us did too, and reassured her. It's part of the "wreckage" the poem talks about, I think, that we must put aside. Our parents have plenty of wonderful "layers" to nourish them and us. New York, Aug. 23, 2005 We're sorry to announce that shortly after Ford wrote this, his mother passed away peacefully in Tucson.. |
I've never known a time when my Dad (Alvin Lindstrom) was not around. He's always been there, and I naively think he always will be. He's 89 and in great health for a man of his years. He walks 2 miles a day and still plays golf. He is sharp as a tack. Mom died 17 years ago and he hooked up with his old high school girlfriend and married her. She's a year younger than him. They have a great life in Tucson filled with activities. Our only "age" dispute we have concerns his driving. I think it's about time he hangs up the license and depends on others for transportation. But, he doesn't see it that way. So I just walk away from any discussions of that shaking my head and saying, "Well, he's over 21, that is up to him." My Dad is an absolute testament to clean living. No stress; never let anything bother him. Never smoked. Booze in moderation. Plenty of exercise. Healthy food...lots of fish as our scandinavian heritage would indicate. Compare this to my own former lifestyle (exactly the opposite of above) and I know why when we are together here at my business in Nevada people think we are brothers. He looks younger and I look older. Thus...we appear to be the same age! |
Here are my Dad and I on a trip we took to Spain together in 2003. |
Why not share stories about your living parents? Just type in the blanks below and press the submit button. And, if you have a recent photo, just attach it to an e-mail and send it to chs1959@aol.com. |
Your name, location, and email address. |
Story you would like to share (Take as much space as you like.) |
I AM VERY FORTUNATE TO HAVE BOTH OF MY PARENTS WHO ARE RESPECTIVELY 82 AND 83. RELATIVELY YOUNG AS I WAS AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL DURING THEIR TEENAGE YEARS. AT 18, MY MOTHER WAS LEFT ALONE WITH MYSELF AND MY BROTHER WHILE MY DAD WENT "OFF TO WAR". I WAS ONLY 2 YRS OLD AND DIDN'T SEE HIM AGAIN UNTIL I WAS 5. MY MOTHER RETURNED TO HER PARENTS HOME WHERE SHE KEPT HOUSE FOR HER PARENTS WHO WERE BOTH WORKING FOR THE WAR EFFORT, AND HER YOUNGER SISTER AND BROTHER, AS WELL AS MYSELF AND MY BROTHER WHO WAS JUST 11 MONTHS YOUNGER . WHILE THESE WERE VERY DIFFICULT TIMES FOR BOTH OF MY PARENTS, THEY HAVE MANAGED TO SURVIVE IN WONDERFUL HEALTH AND, CONTINUE TO PROVIDE STRENGTH AND COURAGE TO MYSELF, MY CHILDREN AND GRANDCHILDREN. I AM VERY THANKFUL THAT THEY ARE HEALTHY AND ABLE TO BE A VERY INTEGRAL PART OF ALL OF OUR LIVES. THEY ARE ALSO AVID U OF A FANS AND WOULDN'T MISS A FOOTBALL OR BASKETBALL GAME FOR ANY REASON. Tucson, Feb. 1, 2006 |
