Christmas 2007--Making Memories

Here are just a few of our Christmas 2007 memories.
Katie holding her butterfly doll from Two Feather.

Mom opening sweatshirt.

Angel with pants we bought her.

Mom with her velvet coloring pictures from Stacey.

Me with bath set from Stacey.

Mom with jogging suit from Angel, Tim and Katie.

Katie opening present from Stacey.

Still unwrapping.

Of course, it's always been known that the boxes are the best presents of all.


One of these days I'll have to learn from Terry how to make one of those slide shows so these pictures don't take up so much room. LOL

Kawasaki Mule and a Farmall Tractor—More Memories

Two Feather uses his Kawasaki Mule to run around the property and cut up all the fallen trees for firewood. As mentioned in my previous post, he also uses it to transfer the mowers back and forth from our house to Mom’s. He also uses it to plow the snow off both driveways, to grade the driveways when they become rutted from the rain, and to drive back and forth through the woods to see me everyday. The Mule has nearly 700 hours on it from all the work he’s done with it.

Today when we went through the woods to get to the bottom of Mom’s driveway to pick up her garbage can, there was a strange loud scraping noise coming from underneath the Mule. When we got back up to our house, we cleaned off all the mud from the underbelly, cleaned around all the moving parts, and greased all the fittings. Seems once all the mud was removed the noise became louder. When he went to loosen the gear oil bolt so he could check the oil level in the gearbox, the bolt snapped.

Guess we’ll be calling the Kawasaki dealer to come pick it up for service. Not only do we need to find out what the strange scraping noise is, we now need them to get the other half of the bolt out and probably rethread the opening and put a new bolt in.

Good thing we mowed Mom’s grass when we did. Now we’re going to have to figure out how to get the mowers to her place if the yards need mowed again. We were hoping this was the last mowing, but with the way the weather has been it may need done a few more times before winter sets in.

So much for things going smoothly. Two Feather and I always say that if we didn’t have bad luck, we wouldn’t have any luck at all. I’m getting really good at saying, “Oh well!”

Next stop…the auto parts store. Mom gave Two Feather and me Dad’s old ’51 Farmall tractor several years ago, before I started taking care of her. Dad’s old tractor had been sitting in the bottom of the barn for years and didn’t run. The gas tank still had gas in it that turned to gel and rust, and it needed new everything. Two Feather worked on that tractor determined to get it up and running again. He cleaned and scrubbed the inside of the gas tank until he got it cleaned out. He bought a new gas filter and installed that, and fiddled with the thing replacing one part after another. He wouldn’t give up.

After working on it for about a week, one day I heard him yelling from the garage. I couldn’t tell if he sounded angry or happy.

I remember the day so well. As I walked toward our garage, I heard him yelling, “Come on!” and then I heard the sound of the ignition turning. I ran up to the garage and by the time I got there, Dad’s old Farmall fired up, sputtered and spit, and then I heard the noisy old hum of the engine, and watched Two Feather back it out onto the driveway.

Tears streamed down my face hearing the sound of Dad’s old tractor running again. When I was young, I used to ride with Dad and when I got older I’d stand on the back bar and hang onto the seat. Hearing that old tractor again meant the world to me. It would have meant the world to Dad, too. I couldn’t stop crying, yet I was laughing at the same time because I was so happy. My face held a beaming smile as the tears flowed..

“That’s what it’s all about, right there,” Two Feather said.

“What?” I asked.

“That smile!”

Of course, being the sentimental fool I am, I cried harder. Then I ran in the house, grabbed the phone, and called Mom. I was so excited.

“Mom, you gotta here this.”

“What?” she asked. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“Hold on a second. Let me get outside where you can hear this.” I ran to the driveway and asked. “Do you hear that?”

“Is that what I think it is?” She asked. “Is that Dad’s tractor?”

“Yesssssss!” I said, and started crying again. “Isn’t it wonderful!”

“Yes, it is, honey. I wish Dad were here to hear that. He’d be proud of Two Feather.”

“I wish he were too, Mom. This is great. It’s like having Dad right here, right now.”

“Tell Two I said thank you. I’m so glad he got it running and I hope he gets a lot of use out of it.”

Mom was as excited as I was and before we hung up the phone, she was in tears as well.

Two Feather got that old tractor running within only a week after we took it up to our house, and it ran for nearly a year with no problem. It didn’t have the power it used to have, but it ran.

He quit using it because it needed the head gasket replaced and about the time it spewed oil I started taking care of Mom, so we invested in the Mule to use for snow plowing, the upkeep on the driveways, and something he could drive through the woods to visit me and take care of things around the house.

Looks like he’ll be replacing that head gasket now and get the old tractor running again. We have to have something to get the work done around here. And as usual, he’s just the man to do it. He’s the only man around here.

Thank you, Creator, for sending him to me when you did. I don’t know what I’d do without him.

****

On a different note, Mom's physical therapist came today. She was showing Mom how to transfer from the car more easily. She spent a good deal of time with that and then they came in the house and worked on those darn exercises Mom hates so much.

Mom was exhausted by the time therapy was finished. Her legs do seem to be getting stronger, though. So that's a good thing. I'm so glad that she's able to get back a bit more of her strength.

The therapist said she had a few more visits left with Mom, but she'd have to call me next week to schedule them.

Memories Cut Limb by Limb

Friday, September 7, 2007

Some memories you can keep forever; others need to be cut away limb by limb to maintain peace of mind.

Today, I’m watching a part of my life that has been around for as long as I can remember be stripped of its branches and laid to rest. The nearly 100-foot pine tree that stood tall, overshadowing my Mom’s house, is being taken down. With the storm damage a few weeks ago, we dodged a bullet and I felt it was time to remove a tree that had the potential of being a real danger to Mom’s house. The last thing we need is a storm during the middle of the night, or anytime for that matter, that could easily uproot this monstrous pine tree and have it land on the house.



As I watch Tracy Fennell, owner of Fennell’s Tree Service, climb with his spikes, I remember climbing this tree as a child and with each branch he falls a little piece of me falls apart. I’ve always known I’m an emotional and sentimental type person, but these past years taking care of Mom I’ve realized how very tuned in I’ve been to my past and my surroundings. It was with great sorrow and many tears I watched each limb come down.

Here is a picture of the same area after the tree is down.


I mentioned that I was saddened that the tree was taken down, but I must admit, it makes the view to the side yard all that more beautiful. The deer and turkey are more visible and it’s quite fun to watch them graze in the yard.

Photo Album Pages Ripped Out--Memories Gone

Saturday, September 1, 2007

Mom was up about six times last night. It always amazes me that she can wake up, yell for me to help her with her pants, and be back to sleep and snoring before I get back in bed. Of course, I lay there trying to go back to sleep and normally don’t until after her third or fourth need to use the pot. Once I’m awake, it’s very difficult for me to go back to sleep. I’m starting to look like a raccoon with my black circles under my eyes.

I did manage to get a few hours sleep before I woke her up at 9:00. She wasn’t happy about getting up and she was less happy about having to get a shower. After an hour in the bathroom, I finally had her washed, dressed and ready to sit in the kitchen to eat. Mom is normally always very sweet, but when Alzheimer's Disease and agitation decides to take over her brain, she can be a handful.

This morning she wanted to know where we were and why we weren’t eating at her house. For months she’s not recognized her own home and I continue to point out the things that might register: the cabinets that Dad built and put in the kitchen, the ceramic trivets she made that are and have been hanging on the kitchen wall for thirty years. Lately, I realized that she really doesn’t remember these things; she’s only remembering me telling her about them.

I tried explaining what the house looked like when Mom and Dad bought it, but it wasn’t doing any good. She said, “Are there pictures of all this you’re telling me about?”

“Yes, Mom there is.”

I went upstairs to get the family photo album and show her what the house looked like when she and Dad bought the place.

When I took the album downstairs and opened it, I was totally shocked. More than forty pages of pictures had been ripped out from the old rope tie that once held them together. She asked where all the pages were. I didn’t know what to say! All the pictures that could have helped remind her of her past were GONE. She cried when she recognized the album and saw all the pages torn out. “Who did this?” she asked. I was at a loss for words. I didn’t know how to console her, other than to tell her that I’d try to find them.

I knew Mom hadn’t ripped them out; her picture albums were her pride and joy. Beside that, they were upstairs in a dresser, and she hasn’t been upstairs since I moved in. Good God, what’s next?!