When You're 96

Rock Around the Clock is probably my favorite 70 year old song--it still sounds amazing today. And even Mom likes it---but she refuses my request for a public display of rhythm.

I went down the hall to purchase a soda and this lady was sitting in the side room yelling, "59! 60! 61! 62! 63!..." and on and on and on---I looked at the nurses and they tried not to smile. I looked at the lady and she had fire in her eyes, by golly, she was a countess! The soda machine took my dollar, gave me a quarter back, but no drink. I was thirsty--life is so hard--so I returned to Mom's room, grabbed my phone and returned while recording--you can hear her, the counting chick, she's counted up to well over 100 by now. For some reason, my video recorder turned off after 25 seconds, but I have all the evidence I need for her to audition for the newer, leaner, Sesame Street. Anyway, I tried to mess her up because I believe she was in the 190's by the time I returned, and I thought about asking her age then realized I might as well tell her she's fat so instead I said, "I put in ONE HUNDRED cents and the machine gave me TWENTY FIVE cents back but no drink, and I lost SEVENTY FIVE cents, SEVENTY FIVE!I could try again but then I might lose ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY, or even TWO HUNDRED AND TWENTY FIVE!" By then she paused, maybe I'd thrown a wrench into her rusty wheels, but my camera stopped as well. Crisis averted--some of the nurses had removed their shoes to keep up with the counting and I was afraid what they'd be taking off after 200--maybe they'd count on each other. If only I'd just walked by an yelled, "Bottles of beer on the wall!" we could've all been caught in an endless sing-along ode to people with a lot of beer, and a lot of wall space. I'll probably leave a note at the front desk--their machines have always had problems, withholding candy, eating money, or simply not putting out (queue ex-wife joke). But while I told the staff and made it clear I didn't care about the seventy five, I repeat, SEVENTY FIVE cents--it's the only machine in that huge building, a lot of people work 16 hour shifts, and they might need a little energy--where was I? Yeah, while I mentioned it to the staff I pressed a button on the machine, and this was an hour later--and a drink came out! Their candy machine is the same, withholding candy, boy, I think they just put those in the nursing home to get back at all the old people who made their kids eat vegetables but deprived them of sweets! Mom hates the vegetables and healthy food they serve at the nursing home. Two years ago she asked what we were eating at her 94th birthday party and I told her we'd saved all the green beans, carrots, lima beans and broccoli she'd wasted and we were going to make her eat them at her party. She didn't find that funny--yeah, yeah, that face, that's the face she made, like she was about to make me an offer I couldn't refuse and then when I said yes, she'd say, "What?" and I'd say, "I accept the offer," "What offer" "The offer you just offered me!" "I can't see the TV" "What about the offer? What is it?" "Why are you yelling?"....ugh...she really knows how to get in my head.

Mom and Dad loved Lawrence Welk! I slipped in a little video to see if Mom would notice the difference.

Mom, getting down and staying down!

I paid Mom a visit yesterday--she's quiet, falls asleep a lot, doesn't smile much. She'll be 96 in just three months. I can see a difference just within the past year. She's slower. Life is a lot of noise, light, and color, and then, silence. I ask her to get right with God, I read scripture sometimes, show her sermons on death, talk to her about the Good News, and she stares as she has her entire life, "I'm Catholic." That's what people say when they don't know and don't want to know. They give their credentials to shut down the discussion. So I'm concerned but hopeful I am reaching her. She and I lead somewhat parallel lives as my life has been mostly quiet solitude since 2009. Friends leave, lovers deceive, a few years ago I had hope in a person but she didn't hope in me, didn't trust me, and I miss her terribly, but perhaps Mom needs me more. The two aren't mutually exclusive. I believe if I had a home life full of love, that would spill over to her. My puppies are the only thing that keep me from pacing the floors. She thought I wasn't prepared to be with her and commit--I just needed to know she was all in to commit. You don't move to a new town three hours away if you think that other person maybe, might, could possibly, was considering a life with you. Oh, and I do race! But my own body is slowly betraying me as well. Mom misses her house as it sits, empty. She said she wishes she could go home, but all of her friends have passed away since she left in 2020. I try to remind her she has a lot of friends right there where she is now, full staff to take care of her, she's in a better place than if she were living alone in her house. She'd need 24 hour care which none of her children can give her, and she never drove a car so--she wouldn't be out on the town doing things anyway. We offer to pay for her to go out a few times a month using transport. It's expensive but affordable. Without Christ, I'd be staring into a deep, dark, vacuum of a chasm, and worse, when one does not belong to Christ, the unquenchable fire for not accepting the blood of His sacrifice.

Mom always says, "No, I'm not mad anymore," and then, a month later, she starts talking about the evil quilt lady from church who showed up at her house to coerce her into trading Mom's rightly-won beautiful burgundy quilt for the vomit-theme orange/white, and it may have had a little green in it quilt I often ask her, "If it was so ugly, why did you guys make it?" Mom worked at the church making quilts, and then they auctioned them off--but in 2001, it got ugly....queue Clint Eastwood them.... So we were chatting last night and Mom brought up the evil quilt lady and her husband and said, "They died," when I noticed a funny grin. I asked her if she was happy about that?