February 28, 2008. The benefits of age.

I have had a great blessing in my life. I was early taught to count my blessings. In our family we did not talk about what we did not have. We only discussed what we were going to do. This included what we had to be grateful for in our life. The result of this early training has meant that I am totally oblivious about things I can't change. And I have been accused more than once of being a Pollyanna. ( Is this common knowledge?) Now that I am 70, I can see how much pleasure that attitude of mine has brought to my life. I am often asked what about my Salvation Army background has stuck with me and what I have shed. Clearly the attitude of counting my blessings has stuck. Also the joy of living. Both great blessings in my life.

The benefits of being 70 are huge. I have had the pleasure of watching the children grow up and become competent and successful. Not only my children but the children of my friends and other family members have brought joy. One side affect of my job of twenty years has been to watch the agents gain expertise and income and then watch the children of the agents grow up, go to college and join the real world of work. And now we see the children of the children coming along. Great continuity, great comfort to the old folks. We even have a few second generation agents in the office, and that has been fun.

Ken is more excited about going to the farm this weekend than anything since surgery. This is a good sign. Up till now he has been a good soldier but now he has joined the world of the living, I believe.

February 27,2008. Chevy Chase. The Modern World.

I like the world as it is today.  Many good folks pine for the good old days.  But not me.  I like the ease of transportation and communication. Modern medicine is a marvel and both Ken and I would be dead without the technology and medicines.  Sources of information are unlimited.  So put all together, this is a wonderful world.

Today I would have gladly retreated back 20 years.  I was in the waiting room of Ken's cardiologist.  The room was full of  patients waiting to see the good Doctor.  Many of the folks were elderly, many wives along to hear the real story, and while they wait they talk softly to each other or read the outdated magazines.  Then in walks a man about 50 talking on his cell phone, all the while signing in the sheet and answering the questions all  talking on his cell phone.  He does not take off his coat, but sits down and continues this ridiculous conversation.  For the next 15 minutes he talks on his cell phone while we are forced to hear every stupid word.  The conversation was not about business, but general gossip about the next lunch date or golf game or who is going to go where this winter.  His arrogance was astonishing.  I don't think he was even aware of the other 10 people in the room.  I surprised myself by keeping quiet.  But I watched him.  Then the assistant came to ask him back to see the Doctor.  He is still on the cell phone talking when he gets up and removes his jacket, walks over to the coat rack, still talking, hangs up his jacket and stands there while the assistant  is still holding the door open for him.  He took 3 minutes to finish his call, after being told that the Doctor is ready.  All this in the office of a Cardiologist, and this jerk is all of 45 or 50.  Clearly this man thinks he is a very important person, at least in his own eyes.  But I bet he is really made up of all the rest of us, and the cardiologist will get him humble.  I bet.

One aspect of cell phone etiquette needs improvement in the modern world.  But I refrained to give him standard lecture number one.  But I wanted to.  Talk on your cell phone in a private place Sir.  Step out in the hall until you are finished.  Those are the rules in the modern world Sir!!

February 26, 2008. Chevy Chase. Rambling.

Once again I worked today for four hours.  That means that Ken was by himself for the four hours. And all was well.  Now we are going to try to ramble up to the farm this weekend.  We have 32 calves at the farm so we are very anxious to see them.  New born calves are the cutest creatures on the face of the earth.  If the weather is very cold Ken will have to walk inside.

I have been rambling through my cherry chest of drawers tonight, trying to find a charger for our xm radio.  I found an old writing came of mine full of treasures, including a letter I received from my Mother after she had died.  That was a bit creepy at the time but I treasure it now.  And I found many letters from Miss. Tomlinson, a dear friend of my grandmother.  They met in Peterborough when Miss. T was teaching my brother  2nd grade.  They were kindred spirits from the start, both well read proper ladies, and continued to be dear friends even tho they never lived in the same city.  We lived in Peterborough for four years, and grandma Houghton visited us for time to time, but she never living with us.  I often how they got to be such good friends? In those days, long letters were common, so I suppose they both kept a full correspondence.  I always exchanged Christmas cars with Miss. T. but when we moved to Washington she wrote  me and asked us to search out a statute of the seven seas with the gulls, as she had seen the statute many years ago and wondered if it was still there.  Sure enough, this statute is on the George Washington parkway.  We took pictures and when she received them she was overjoyed,  I have her letter of thanks.  Of course she was very old and long retired, but still active in her mind.  In fact she told me all about the artist and when it was built and why.

In one of her letters she told me to develop  a lot of God's grace when I was young, because when I was old I was going to need every ounce.  She was a very wise woman as I was reminded while rambling through my cherry chest of drawers.

February 26, 2008. Chevy Chase. Conflicted.

I went to work today.  I felt conflicted. On the one hand I felt like I did when leaving my child at Kindergarten.  Would this child be looked after properly?  Was the child going to be safe?  I have been at Ken's side for over 4 weeks and as I drove away I had the same anxiety.  What will happen if Ken falls?  Who will help?  On the other hand I felt like I had received a "get out of jail" card.  I was on my own on the way to the office to do my own work at my own time in my own way.  What a relief!  But today had more hurdles to leap for Ken.  He cooked dinner all by himself.  And we walked in the neighborhood for half an hour.

I think the weaning process works both ways.  Both Ken and I have to wean ourselves off each other, both on the practical side and the psychological side.  Fortunately, Ken does not like to have me hovering over him, tho he said he was very tired tonight.  I suspect that he has some anxiety when I leave him at home too.  One thing I know for sure.  The body heals faster than the soul.  The threat to a persons sense of self when very ill is torn apart, and  the confidence comes back very slowly, long after the physical healing is complete.  Everything comes together eventually, especially when you work hard at the process.

Today after school Christina and the girls came over to visit us and have a cup of tea.  When Ken was home from the hospital they came for a short visit with Ken, and we all had an after school snack and a cup of tea.  Today when Christina picked the girls up from school, Kate asked if they were coming over to see Ken.  They were just over here on Sunday, but Christina called to see if we would like a visit.  Of course we were delighted.  So we both got to fiddle with the baby Molly and hear all about Kate and Mary Frances and their day at school.  Surprise visits are just the best!!

February 24, 2008. Chevy Chase. Home.

It is always a pleasure to come home.  No matter where I have been or how much I have enjoyed my journey, coming home is unfailingly a joy.  I have often tried to figure out why this is so.  I always love to go on trip, and both Ken and I enjoy the journey.  After one day in a new spot we are perfectly comfortable.  And then we come home.  Often we are in other homes we own and where we have all our own clothes and furniture, but we still feel like home when we arrive at the apartment.  I have asked other folks about this concept, and I am told they like to sleep in their own bed, so they are happier at home. But we sleep in our own bed in Texas at the ranch, where the mattress is exactly the same as our bed in the apartment.  We have family pictures on the wall in Nova Scotia and Texas, so those houses certainly feel like home to us and do feel like our homes.  But not like our apartment.  And not like the farm.

I have tried to figure out why this is so.  Is it my desk, all so orderly with everything in the right place?  Is it the Library with all our  best books? Or is it that the furniture has been with us for a long time?  Perhaps it is the music stand I bought in Kensington in 1973 that warms my heart?  Certainly our best furniture is here.  But neither of us are tied to possessions, and we certainly are not tied to place.  At least we thought.  Other folks seem totally attached to place and we are told their families have been in town for five generations.  But our families have always moved someplace else for one reason or another.  We actually don't quite understand this attachment to one area.  But we know we are always happy to be home.

Our journey yesterday went well.  Again Continental Airline treated us well, with a young person waiting to transport Ken in a wheelchair to the connecting flight.  Two weeks later, Ken was much more able to withstand the travel.  So we were both pleased with the journey to Mexico.  Today Ken walked in the grocery store while I was shopping.  Too cold to walk outside!!

February 22, 2008, Mexico.

Tomorrow is the big day.  We fly to Houston, then to Washington, arriving home at eight o'clock, all going correctly that is.  We will use the wheelchair in the airports, which are a godsend to us.  So we are hoping for the best.  Ken looked up the weather.  32 in Washington and 70 in Harper, Texas.  Robbie and Joyce packed their coats.  We of course did not bring coats!!

This morning Ken and I went walking on the sidewalk north of our place.  Our system is to take the wheel chair, wheeled empty by me, then when Ken needs to rest he sits in the wheel chair to recover.  Last week,we went half the distance,and he rested 8 times.  Today he rested 3 times.  The temperature is perfect for walking, about 70 with a breeze.  We will miss this weather.

Tonight we are dining at a new restaurant, 'Fahita Republic', kind of a funky little restaurant outside by the canal.  Ken and I walked down to see it this morning and it looks cute, but we will let you know if the food is any good.  Taking friends to a new place is always hit and miss.  But who cares.  We'll all have fun anyway.  Joyce and Robbie have enjoyed this place.  In fact they are in the process of buying 5 weeks of a 2 bedroom and den apartment here.  Isn't that fun?  We'll have neighbors here too.

February 21, 2008. Mexico. A quiet Day.

We saw the green flash again.  All four of us.  I just can not believe it.  These past two weeks we have seen the green flash five times.  I have looked for that stupid green flash for the past 45 years.  We have been told about it.  And now we too have become believers in the green flash.  Now we have to look up what on earth this green flash is all about, now we know it can be seen.  Of course, Joyce thought she saw two green flashes.  The sunset was beautiful.

Our day was quiet but productive.  Joyce and Robbie went on a tour of the country around Puerto Vallerta, which they said was interesting but tiring.  They were glad to have taken the tour but won't be quick to take another.  Ken and I read all morning, then took the shuttle to the market, where we walked around a bit, then walked home.  More reading and walking in the afternoon, then when Joyce and Rob came home at six o'clock we all watched the sunset.  Dinner at home.  Ken is doing well when you consider that 4 weeks ago tomorrow he had his surgery.  He still has to rest and sit down after a walk of five minutes or so, and he has a bit of a nap morning and afternoon.  But he is clearly getting better.  The only thing he needs my help is to scrub his back in the shower.  Next week he will be able to drive.  He thinks that his recovery from the lung surgery was a more difficult recovery than this one.  I don't think this is so.  When he was recovering from the lung surgery in 1963 I was teaching, and I had to do my job.  We lived in an apartment on the second floor of a home.  We did not have the ability to go to Mexico.  But after I finished teaching summer school Ken and I went on a freighter cruise out of Montreal.  And then he recovered.

So we are pleased to have had this time in Mexico.  The weather is just perfect.  Not too hot and not too cold.  And just like baby bear, we are happy.

february 20,2008, Mexico. Working.

Robbie commented one morning that he awoke having a nighmare.  He thought in his dreams that he had to go to work when he woke up.  We all laughed, but I reflected that I was actually looking forward to going to work.  I have been happy to help Ken get through surgery and recuperation, but we'll both be happier when he is back to full strength.

My first job was working Saturday mornings for the Superintendent of Grace Hospital, Vancouver, B.C.  Her name was Major Crosbie, a dear friend of my aunt Miriam, my mother's older sister, the head of the women's services with the Salvation Army.  As an extention on my real aunt, we always called Major Crosbie Aunt Margaret.  So I was working for Aunt Margaret every Saturday morning.  I was 12.  Grace Hospital was very close to our home so I would walk up and report to Aunt Margaret and be assigned my task.  Sometimes I would be touring visiting Doctors, sometimes I was to serve tea to the members of the board of Directors and sometimes I was to clean Aunt Margaret's shoes and iron her white uniforms.  I was good at ironing.  My mother had bursitis in her right shoulder and could not iron so I got the job of ironing all the family laundry.  My sister was 2 years older and I don't know why I got the job but I was elected.  So I was experienced with ironing...especially cotton garments.  My Aunt Margaret did not wear cotton uniforms.  She wore those new synthetic fabric uniforms and the first thing I did was melt a hole in the inside facing of the front of the uniform.  I can see the hole in front of me as if it was today.  I had just ruined Aunt Margaret's uniform.  I completed my tasks of the day,and before I went home I had to find Aunt Margaret, confess my error and offer to buy her another uniform.  She was very gracious but stern and told me not to worry,but she would look at the uniform and be back with me.  And she did.  Aunt Margaret told my mother that the uniform was wearable, as the hole was on the inside, and that  she should have realized I was used to ironing cotton, and she should have warned me about the temperature of the iron.  In other words, I did not have to pay for the uniform and she would continue to employ me.  Over the years her response to my error has come to my mind whenever an error was made my someone working with me.  But I don't think I have ever told anyone else this story.  It still reminds me of my stupidity.

Another time I was asked to fill in as a receptionist for the Kiwanis Club, over the Easter season.  Again we lived in Vancouver, and I was now 14.  I had been with my Father when he had a meeting in the Kiwanis office, and the man in charge asked if I could  fill in for a few days. I'm sure he thought I was older than 14.  After consulting with my Mother, I accepted.  This was in the days of lots of wires and plugs and connections and releases.  I was taught the switch board and I am a quick study, but I had( and still have) the concept that I got  this stuff under my belt.  The beginning of the first day went fine.  One call came in, I connected to the correct party, then released the rope when finished.  Before I could think about it, the switchboard was busy.  Soon I have 4 or 5 calls coming in at the same time.  And soon I disconnected the call to the Director.  He politely told me.  Then the same person called back and I apologized and connected them to the Director who explained that I was filling in temporarily.  I could hear the conversation, as the offices were side-by-side.  Then I disconnected them again.  Not so polite this time so I was no longer thinking.  And can you believe, but I disconnected the person a third time, before they even got to the Director.  I still laugh about it.  What could I do but laugh inside and apologize on the outside.  The Director did  not fire me and I soon learned the busy switchboard,  but this lesson  has stayed with me .  If you really really make a big mess, the only thing you can do is laugh, and laugh and laugh.  I mean... I did not do it on purpose, and the director should have found out I was only 14.

February 18,2008. Mexico. This Modern World.

Do doubt about it.  This is a wonderful world.  One day this weekend, my son David was in Bethesda visiting Andrew and Christina and girls, after business in York Pa.  Especially he was visiting Molly, our new grandbaby.  My brother and sister-in-law,Dave and Irene, were in Florida with Pat and Mal Allington. My niece Marion and Gary from Hamilton, were in Texas at the lake house  and visiting with Suzanne and the girls in San Antonio. My friend Gill is spending a year in Cambridge,England auditing a class while she rows for the women's club team.  My friends Mary and Cliff are in California on vacation and Wendy and Claussen are at a family wedding in Florida. And of course we are carefully watching the 32 degree weather at the ranch while we enjoy the 75 degrees in Mexico.  This is a wonderful world.

Today was a light day for Ken after our outing last night.  We took the shuttle to the golf club for lunch, sitting on the outside balcony overlooking the 18th hole.  It's a great spot for lunch.Then on to the book store in our little mall so Ken could get some new books.  I bought two books on the history and culture of Mexico, so I will probably bore everyone with my new facts. I am reading 'A Forest for Calum' by Frank Macdonald, a first novel by a very good writer, also Canadian.  Tomorrow Ken is going to walk on the beach with the Joyce and Robbie, and I am having a massage.  Heaven.

I have been blessed in my life by my friends and family.  I miss my work friends too.  This Friday Ken will be 4 weeks post surgery and it is that time since I have seen or spoken to very few people.  Very unusual for me.  The good part was we survived and thrived and all did all my friends at work.  This is truly a wonderful world.

February 17,2008. Nuevo Vallarta. Care Givers.

The most difficult of being a care giver is a bit similar to being a parent.  When is the patient ready to start looking after themselves?  Ken is able to get around the apartment very well.  He has no shortness of breath when he walks to get a glass of water, he showers himself without help, he even makes the coffee.  So why I am asking him if he wants his medicine has more to do with habit than necessity.  Many years ago I caught myself tying Andrew's shoelace, well past the time he was able to tie his own.  Clearly I was in the habit of looking out for his care,although he was able to looking after himself.  Fortunately, Ken does not like to be fiddled with so he is ready to pick up his old roles.  But the habit of providing for and watching after is difficult to know when the role is over.  I guess the answer is to be sensitive and stop hovering.

Tonight we went to dinner at a new restaurant in Puerto Vallarta, 'El Arrayan', and it was a keeper.  No Texmex food  at all. Charming decor and wonderful food. We'll go there again.  Friends from Bethesda, Diedra and Tom Woods were there too.  They are good friends of Andrew and Christina, and they have been to the farm several times.  And I look up at the restaurant and there they are.  It's an amazing world we live in.

Ken went two long walks today and we did not take the wheelchair.  There's another first!!

 look up and in Mexico we see them.

February16,2008.Nuevo Vallarta,Mexico. House Guests.

Ken walked outside our complex for about 30 minutes this morning. Another first for him.  I push the wheelchair along side and then he takes a rest in the wheelchair when he is tired.  It's a system that works.

Today our friends from across the ranch, Joyce and Rob Mukleroy, are arriving.  They have heard of our descriptions of the place and decided to buy a time share at Paradise Village,  but we suggested they come and see the place.  This of course was all arranged before Ken's surgery, so our activities will be restricted, but they will be free to go on their own.  Suzanne Reynolds was a perfect house guest, helpful to both Ken and me.  She kept telling Ken how well he was doing, and she was happy to eat our peculiar meals.

Over the years we have had a lot of house guests.  We like having them and the reason is that we do not fuss  so they are no trouble to us.  We all eat dinner together and the rest of the time they are welcome to raid the refrigerator.  We keep a supply of information about the area and local transportation.  They then head out on their own.  I don't know if the guests like it or not but it works for us.  When we first moved to Washington we took our guests downtown to play tour guide, but that lasted about six months. After that, they were on their own.

Once upon a time many years ago we were visiting Gill in Toronto, at her old house on Hollywood Street.  We were in the kitchen preparing dinner.  I commented to Gill that we enjoyed visiting her because she didn't fuss.  Gill said to me "Ruth, what you don't know is that I am fussing."  "Oops", said I.  And I never made that mistake again and realized that reality is always specific to you, not to the other party.  The truth is I don't know if our friends and relatives who visit us think we are fussing over them or ignoring them.  But it doesn't really matter does it?

February 14,2008. Nuevo Vallarta, Mexico.

Bucerias is a small city just north of us here in Nuevo Vallarta.  The old part of the town is along the shore, as once upon a time it was a fishing village.  But it has grown and now it is a city,with all the good and bad aspects of a city.  When the modern era arrived, a freeway was built right through the center of town, with elevated walkways installed for the pedestrians.   The place is charming in spots and ugly in spots, probably like most cities.  Yesterday for our lunch time excursion we took a taxi to a restaurant of Ken's choosing in Nuevo Vallarta just near the main highway.  When we told the driver  the name of the restaurant he asked us if we had been there before.  We replied that Ken choose the restaurant from a list.  His nose wrinkled up and suggested to us that the restaurant was expensive.  And what was worse the food was just ordinary.  His suggestion was to go to Bucerias, where the food was super and the prices were reasonable.  He further told us that what we saved in food cost would off set the increase in taxi cost.  We three agreed to have him take us to a very nice restaurant on the water with reasonable prices.  And off we went.

The ride cost $11. The dinner sized lunch cost $44.  The long road to the restaurant would have never been discovered by us.  The setting was superb as we dined right beside the beach.  But the best part was the food.  Both Ken and Suzanne ate snapper and I shrimp.  We'll go there again.  That taxi driver was right and the next time I see him I'll hug his neck!

That was the longest journey away from the apartment for Ken, but he did well.  Later in the day he walked down to the pool and read outdoors for an hour, while Suzanne and I drank a mangorina, a fancy drink with lots of stuff in it along with ice cream.  We drank dessert while we drank our before dinner drink.  We still drank a beer while watching the sunset.  And can you believe it, but we saw a green/blue flash last night too.  Soon I will believe in the forces of the vortex.

february 13,2008. Nueavo Vallarta. Green Flash.

We saw it!!  We three saw it!  While sitting on the balcony watching the sunset we actually saw the green flash, just as the sun dropped beneath the horizon, just as we have been told.  This green flash has been described to me for many years and for years while in the tropics we have watched for this green flash.  But I never saw it.  I assumed that the good folks doing the telling had previously drank too much rum, then saw the green flash, so I was very sceptical of ever seeing the green flash.  But I kept looking.  Ken has previously seen a picture of the green flash, so I did have some faith..but not much.  And then it happened.

We three are in the habit of having a drink while watching the sunset.  Suzanne and I having a beer and Ken a glass of cranberry grape, so at least one of us was cold sober.  I have binoculars to my eyes, Ken and Suzanne watching the sun setting, the sun just coming past a thin layer of clouds, and it happened.  Right at the top of the sun was a thin layer of green, visible with the naked eye but spectacular with the binoculars.  We all exclaimed with glee. But we saw it.  We really saw it.  And I was such a sceptic.

For the past three days we have seen whales from our balcony. Lots of whales. Spouts big and small and bodies rolling over the top of the water are a wonderful sight to see. Today the whales are off to another spot on the bay.  Too bad.

February12,2008, Puerta Vallarta

We are actually in the new section of Puerto Vallarto, Nueva Vallarta. in a resort called Paradise Village.  Our complex is Playa Royale, made up of five towers of apartments with a central courtyard of pools and foliage, all fronting the Pacific Ocean.  Ken loves the trees and bushes and flowers, non of which he has to maintain.  The larger picture includes a very large time share complex called the hotel, plus a golf course and club house, a separate sports club with fitness center, tennis courts, pools, children's play area and of course a bar and cafe.  So the place we live here is very quiet. Everyone owns their own apartment, with four floors only of people like us who have fractional ownership.  We own 10 weeks of our apartment and so far we have not made it here for the 10 weeks. But we like it here.  You must have a life of your own in your mind, have access to the internet,bring lots of books and be fit and able to investigate the town and country.

For the first time since surgery Ken went to a restaurant for lunch.  He has been walking but only on our outside corridor but yesterday He ventured down to the closest restaurant, and we lunched on the beach under cover at the Beach Party.  We three were very festive.  Fortunately we take the wheelchair when we venture forth.

Old habits die hard.  After dinner last night in the apartment Suzanne and I were beginning to clean up I immediately excused myself to go to the restroom.  I chuckled to myself because even if I am solely responsible for doing the dishes I always have to go to the restroom.  When a girl, my sister and I always cleaned up the kitchen, did the dishes and made everything neat and tidy.  I discovered that when I went to the bathroom in the beginning, my father would help out with Carol, my sister.  It took a long time for both Carol and my Father to realize I had a pattern that  let me out of my chores.  But by then my pattern was set and now I always go to the bathroom before I do the dishes.  Every so often I chuckle.

 

 

February 10, 2008. Puerto Vallarta. We made it.

We made it to Mexico.  Two airplanes and one change of planes in Houston, one taxi ride in Mexico and we were here.  The air is warm and clean, and our apartment is comfortable and we are ready for the next two weeks.  Ken was apprehensive before the trip, but he was determined to get there.  And we did.  Suzanne Reynolds from work came with us. She is a nurse and is a very helpful person so our trip was smooth.  The wheelchairs were a godsend and the airline,Continental, was unfailingly gracious, so we were able to arrive in style.  Ken was pleased. It wasn't until he sat down and rested that he realized how tired he was.  We all went to bed at nine o'clock.

Ken and I share one quality in common.  We both like to go.  When Ken was a medical

 student and I was a teacher, our summers were free to work.  So we got jobs in some place in the country we wanted to travel and then in between work we travelled in that area.  We worked at Salvation Army summer camps, the first year outside of Boston and the next year outside Tucson.  We drove our Volkswagen bug, brought our tenting gear and we were ready to go.  It is hard to believe, but we saved up enough money through the school year for tuition, so the income from our camp jobs just needed to fund our summers.  Our summers were great and we went places and saw sights that we have never been able to see, once our professional and family life took over.

We were upset with our last summer.  Our choice was to go to the far north in Canada.  A family friend was the Minister of Northern Affairs in Canada, Walter Dinsdale, and we spoke to him.  He told us what to do, and assured us that Ken would be hired for the summer and that I would be able to accompany him.  So in a very short time Ken received his letter accepting him into the Medical Service of Canada.  We were thrilled.  His placing would be given to him in early June, to begin to work June 15.  When the letter came we were devastated to discover he was to begin to work at Toronto's Malton Airport, which became Toronto International Airport.  The powers that be tried to make it easy on us, not knowing that we wanted to go up north.  We didn't even know that this was part of Walter Dinslale's responsibilities.  But here we were, ten days away from a job but not wanting it.  It worked out for us though.  I took a well paid job teaching swimming for the Toronto School for six weeks, Ken reported to duty every day and in the middle of August we left Toronto and travelled in the Maritime provinces and Quebec.  That was in 1962 and we had never been back since that summer.  Just think of what could have happened had we not visited beautiful Nova Scotia in 1962.

February 8, 2008. Getting Along

Another reason Ken and I get along is that we think very differently.  I am a well organized plodder while Ken is a rabbit always chasing after some new idea.  If you think about it, that is a pretty good combination.  Two examples tell it all.

We were fairly newly married and a friend at church asked us for help with his trigonometry .  Now Ken and I both passed the same course, but me with a much higher grade.  We offered to help,so the student came to our apartment in Toronto over a hardware store to get our help.  We three sat down at the table and I couldn't even remember the questions, let alone figure out the answes, while Ken just figured out both the questions and the answers.  Lesson #1 to Ruth.  Ken thinks very differently than me.

Another example is my interest in figuring out how things could be done better, whether I am involved or not. Ken and I were at Lake Tahoe along with David and Suzanne and Andrew and Christina.  We were all in the ski shop getting outfitted with gear.  It was taking a long time.  Suzanne and I were finished and to get out of the way we sat up on the high platform that is used to measure so we could see the whole operation.  We reorganized the whole operation in our minds.  We cut out staff, moved locations of counter tops, and generally made for a smooth quick operation.   Finally when everyone was ready to leave, Suzanne and I offered our suggestions to them.  But they were not interested at all.  And all our family thought us slightly daft.

You can see the value in a family with these two skills.  Of course it still comes as a shock to me when I find the pantry unorganized, but I have learned to ignore things I don't control.  The part of Ken's brain that a normal person(meaning me) would sort and organize  in Ken is just not working.  But with the two of us, we are a good team.

February 7,2008, Chevy Chase. Cacoon

These past two weeks Ken and I have been wrapped in our own little cacoon.  First in the hospital for six days and then in the apartment for ten days we  have been together in the same space.  This is a very unusual situation for us.  But we have survived and thrived.  I keep projecting forward twenty years when we are both in some tiny apartment both house bound. I wonder.  I went to the office today for a short time, and I must say the real world looked mighty good.  Ken is getting better bit by bit.  I still hear those "ah shit" from time to time tho.

Ken and I have been married for almost 50 years, and I must say that many friends who knew us when we married had grave doubts that we would ever stay married for 50 years.  I think the key to our marriage was that we both had our own separate work worlds that we didn't share much.  We were like railroad tracks parallel to each other, tied together with the children,our travels and our friends, but both with a whole world of responsibilities ourselves.

The other thing we have always done was switch tasks.  Ken paid the bills for a few years, then I did.  I cooked for 25 years, then Ken cooked for 25 years.  Somethings never changed .  Ken was responsible for the outside and I for the inside of the house.  So we worked it all out.  We are also very stubborn.  So for Ken and I to be together for two weeks is very unusual.  We operate at differing speeds; we think along differing patterns;  but it worked.  Now Ken is getting better.  And this is a good thing.

February 6,2008, Chevy Chase Cleaning Silver

Cleaning silver is not such a bad job.  In fact, the  results out weigh the actual work.  Firstly the objects put back in place make the whole apartment brighter.  And secondly touching each object is a reminder of how and where this piece was acquired.  I polished the water pitcher given to my parents for their 25th anniversary.  I can't recall who gave it to them.  I polished my Aunt Miriam's best silver flatwear.  Next up was four expresso cups, given to us by our David for Christmas.  They are beautiful little silver cups and saucers with china inserts.  We love them.Unfortunately we don't drink expresso coffee at night so ever since he was 13 when he gave them to us he has thought that we do not like them.  He still is of the same opinion, but now we all laugh.  I polished an old butter knife with' Mother' on the handle.  I don't know if that would have been my mother or grandmother, but I enjoyed polishing it.  Two sauce dishes were not easy to clean.  I purchased them along with a full set of  Austrian silver in Toronto.  I couldn't carry them home to Gill's house, and I had trouble getting a taxi.  All the while I was sure these expensive(for me) objects would be stolen before I could get a rider on our insurance policy.  The real question I ask my self is how it took me two years to polish that same silver.  I have no answer.

The Wilson Quarterly is a splendid periodical.  Thankfully it is published quarterly.  This issue has an article on the African revolution .  The article is about the farming revolution in Africa, and the fact that many small farmers in Africa are doing  very well indeed.  This is the first time I have heard of it.  Frances Itani is another fine Canadian author.  I am reading "Deafening".  My friend Wendy is keeping me supplied with reading material and for that I am grateful.

February 5, 2008,Chevy Chase, Maryland

Dr.Corcoran, Ken's surgeon, says that Ken is on the way to living 110 years.  Ken on the other hand is not happy with all the fluid being retained in his body.  But he is able to walk longer distances without getting too short of breath, so progress is being made, just slower then on Ken's schedule.  I don't know if my memory is faulty, or that people are nicer to us now that we are old.  But folks in Surburban Hospital are much nicer than I recall hospital personel used to be.  But no matter...the good folks at the hospital could not have been better to us.

I think Surburban Hospital has worked very hard these past ten years to upgrade all their services.  Everyone was helpful from the medical staff to the cleaning service.  That is not an easy task, to have all the staff care about Ken's care.  For instance, I was pushing Ken in a wheel chair, about to go through a closed door.  One of the cleaning folks say my efforts and came to push Ken through the door.  And with a big smile too.  All the time I spent in the hospital I kept trying to figure out how this change in attitude and  helpfulness came about.  Did they have classes in how to be nice?  Or do they give prizes when the patients give an excellent rating?  I know the whole medical faculty has been upgraded, since the affiliation with N.I.H. and Johns Hopkins University Hospitals, and it shows.  The heart center is now the number one place for successful heart surgery.  What a good thing Ken waited till now.

Here are several bits of gold that has come our way.  We have visited with Christina and the three girls every day.  They come over for tea with Grandpa after school.  I have spoken with my brother David every day, sometimes for long periods of time.  David and Suzanne call us from Texas every day.  We urged them not to come up for the surgery as Andrew was very attentive while in the hospital.  Our friends brought us food . And they stopped by to say hello.And then the cards.  They cheer Ken up.  Ken says I am a pretty good nurse too.  So the gold continues to come our way.

February 4, 2008, Chevy Chase, Maryland,

Every young family need a Picnic Group.  Yesterday my friend Wendy came to visit Ken.  Sometime in the early 70s she joined Picnic Group, and we've been friends ever since.  In 1970, Mary and Bertie, friends from graduate school,moved with their families to Bethesda.  They were delighted to see each other because both had no families or friends locally.  Bertie suggested they meet once a week with their children at a local park and bring a pot lunch, and both were free to invite any one else.  The thinking being if there was not a specific date every week, they would get busy and they would never see each other.  So in the summer of 1971 Picnic Group began and fllourished.

In September 0f 1971, Andrew attended  three year nursery school, the same Berties sons attended, and when Bertie found out I was a Canadian she invited me to picnic group.  Of course I said yes. I had a two year old and a three year old and I accepted any and every invitation.  Especially if it included other children and outdoor play.  The Canadian part was important because the group had the pot luck picnic every week rain or shine in summer and winter.  The group sometimes was made up of 6 Mothers and sometimes 15 Mothers, but it didn't really matter because every one brought food and everyone shared.  

February 3, 2008, 2008, Chevy Chase, Maryland.

My Father once told me that as a nurse I made a good plumber.  He was recuperating from a heart attack, and in 1954, the treatment was to stay in bed.  My Mother was the care giver, but she was doing her duty  by speaking at a  Salvation Army function that had been arranged many months prior.  It was my turn  to look after Dad.  He was a good sport and thought my incompetence as a nurse was humorous.  He giggled away when I couldn't get his pillows arranged comfortably  , and did not enjoy my choice of lunch.  But what brought on the chuckle about me as a plumber was when I spilled a whole glass of water over him.  The good thing was we both thought it was funny, not that I had been a total dolt.  It did help me in my choice away from the Medical field.  And I do not recall my Mother asking me again.

My Father was an interesting man.  His family came from Yorkshire in 1910 and settled in Calgary, Alberta.  His father Harry was a shoe maker "Buckley Shoe Repair" was the store.  But he drank too much, which made life difficult for Alice,his wife and the three children.  The result of that experience on my father was enormous.  First off he became a life long non-drinker, second he became a Salvation Army Officer,a job that let him help people, and thirdly he instilled in his two daughters the need to be able to make our own living.  

The results for Dad was mixed.  Not drinking any red wine did not help his heart.  My father was an business man and an independent spirit and that spirit served him well when he was out in the field but when he moved up the ranks and was assigned to Headquarters in Toronto his  spirit just kind of withered.   In a military organization the person on top if key, and unfortunately the Commissioner in Canada at that time was dumb and arrogant.  So my father died at age 62.  But his influence on my sister and me was ahead of the time, but has been very helpful to us both.  

My Father was a very able man.  He could preach and teach, play his trombone, organize concerts, raise money for the Salvation Army,tell great jokes, but what he could not do was fix any thing at home.  My Mother on the other hand was very good at doing everything in the home.  Her Father was an architect and builder, and Walter Houghton could do everything in the home.  Mother thought that my Father could do things if he would try, so every so often she would give Dad a task.  Now they got along very well and so my dad would oblige her by trying.

So here is the scene.  We lived in Vancouver and the main floor sink was leaking.  Mother asked Dad to replace the washer. So he did.  But he forgot to cut off the water before he took the faucets apart, with the result that Dad is standing at the sink with the water shooting up to the ceiling and hitting him on the head laughing at the top of his lungs and calling for Mother.  Mother came to see his distress and laughter, but refused to turn off the water.  Her words to Dad were "Turn  the water off yourself. Next time you will remember your self."  I of course thought it was a great joke too. My Father was a wonderful man, and I am grateful for his influence on my life.  But he would not approve of me drinking red wine!

February 1, 2008, Chevy Chase, Maryland.

Today is the birthday of Mary Frances Dickie, and she is eight years old.  She is a great joy to her grandparents, but her teacher thinks she falls off her chair too often.  Who cares about chairs anyway.

"Ah shit".  Since Ken has been home I've heard that expression many time coming from another part of the apartment.  And I bet I hear it softly from afar many more times too.  We have been given the same advice from lots of friends, that the first six weeks after this surgery is very uncomfortable, but when I question them about the specifics, I get no real answers.  Even the doctors and nurses are somewhat vague.  Other than you loose your taste, you get depressed, and hurt like hell.  Ken I figure that the memory has all been suppressed as to the specifics.

Ken and I have been in this apartment for two and a half days together.  I think it is a first.  Ken calls me a true housewife.  I am surprised I can fill my days.  It rained almost all day so it was a good day to stay home.  So other than doing three trips to the laundry downstairs, we have been home together for these days.

I was reminded of a quote from a character in a book by Alexander McCall Smith "the sum total of human happiness are little acts. Small things. A word of encouragement. A gesture of encouragement. So easy."  He is the writer of the Isabel Dalhousie novels, and the No.1 Ladies' Detective Agency series, and two new books now being reviewed (where I was reminded of the quote).  He is so prolific it makes your head spin.  You can tell I read a lot during the day when Ken is sleeping. 

Ken is doing well but not well enough to keep him happy.  It's the magic 6.  In 6 weeks you will be more comfortable.  In six months you will feel better than you have in ten years.  Every one has the same story.  We both hope they are true .