Valorie

My 18 year old granddaughter , Valorie Stone, recently lost her battle with Cystic Fibrosis. She was doing well after a double lung and liver transplant . The doctors discovered cancer in her sinus at 7 months post transplant.  They assured us all it was treatable.
She was responding but suddenly passed from this life from a surprise complication. It happened in just a few hours.
We were all heartbroken . She was actually getting ready to go home for a visit in the morning and was gone hours later.
She left behind quite a legacy of faith, love and courage.
You are always in my heart,
Grandma,
Laurie Claire Wells

The Royal Castle of Caserta Nativity Creche

While living in Napoli, Italy, we would often travel to Caserta where we enjoyed our Sundays at the Royal Castle of Caserta. I loved the creche which is encased in a large glass display and must have take many people many years to finish.

A Wonderful Summer in Galveston, Texas

Laurie Wells just happened to be taking this pic!

On Losing my father.

This Summer I lost my dad. He almost made it to 90 years old. He will be so missed by many and left behind a legacy of love in family. Although I left home at 15 to attend a boarding school half way across the country and never returned for more than short visits, my parents were never very far from my heart.
My parents married quite young and were not prepared to raise a family as my dad was fresh out of WWII and didn't even have a job when they eloped to Reno. He built a life for us in Yuba City, California, the Peach Capitol of the world. Ah well, at least that I always heard growing up. It's a little city right where the Feather River and the Yuba River meet.
 The story of their lives is quite a saga of doing what they had to do to make a life for themselves and their growing family. My parents raised us 5 kids to be quite an adventurous fun loving and hard working lot. My sister was a professor at Butte Community College for most of her life. My brother Bruce pastors an Assembly of God Church in California. My Bother Mike owns a Carpet One Flooring shop. My brother Craig is a creative genius in the world of all types of flooring and works in Georgia. We are all so different but after being able to visit together as adults, I was amazed to see how we are so much alike in many things.
Months after his passing, I can't say that it has gotten easier. I still cry a lot when I am alone but I can remember dear dad doing that so often after  my mom passed. I would be looking for him around the house and find him in an old tattered plastic chair underneath one of his many fruit trees in the garden. He would be crying and missing mom. She passed away from Alzeheimers disease a few short years back.
I keep wanting to pick up a phone a give him a call but not being able to do so, my heart shouts out,
Dad, thank you for everything.

Pearl of Great Price

Looking beyond the rough and unlovely surface of a sea shell. can be rewarding. Look beyond the rough exterior or circumstances and discover the beauty beneath the surface.

Two of my favorite pictures.

Off to University.....

Sending your last child off the college is never an easy task. That day just creeps up too quickly. It has happened to me and it is one of the hardest things I have done in  a while.
 My youngest daughter, Teresa, was born in a small village in Italy. We were living in the Apennines Mountains at the time in a wonderful little village called Campo Latarro. I hope I did the Italian language justice and spelled it right. Our home was very old and to get to our dining room and kitchen area, we had to go down a little ladder through a hole in the floor. The downstairs had been the stable area at one time and had been redone into a artsy dining room/kitchen complete with a real cobblestone floor. The arrangement was not easy for a pregnant mom to live with but I somehow managed.
When I was nearing the day when the baby was due to arrive, we were 3 hours away from Bari and 3 hours away from Napoli. Our hospital was in Puteoli, which was on the west coast near Napoli. The journey was historical and picturesque and we traveled most of the way on cobblestone roads ( I felt every bump) , under Roman aqueducts, past vineyards and tobacco barns. It's a good thing we enjoyed it as we had out share of false alarms and lots of travel time. We made the journey 3 times in 4 days. The last trip, we decided to just stay in town and visit an archaeological site and wait. The Roman Arena we found was closed because of earthquake damage but we were invited in anyway, We walked around for quite a while, pausing between contractions, marveling at the sights. As we were the only ones there, it was so quiet except for my panting.
Although smaller than the Colosseum in Rome, it was better preserved by far and my mind was kept busy imagining sea battles, gladiators and wild beasts. They say the Christian persecution was worse there than in Rome. I found wonderful places to rest in the stone elevators used to liftt people and animals up to the arena floor during the days when the arena was the central entertainment in the city.
We later returned to the hospital where they finally allowed us to enter and get ready for our baby's arrival.
What I was not prepared for, was the way babies were welcomed into the world in Italy-at least in that particular hospital. My request for a natural childbirth were snickered at by the doctors and behind my back a large nurse was called upon to come and lay  across my middle and  then proceed to push the baby out. Happening so quickly, I was caught totally by surprise, not able to breathe and felt as if I was being cut in half by a 400 lb. gorilla. I was dumb struck but thankfully, the baby arrived safe and sound. Teresa was fine but I was in shock for hours.

Some years earlier ,a young couple we knew had their baby kidnapped from an Italian hospital and never found. We determined never to let our baby out of our sight during our stay and successfully did this, much to the dismay and upsetting of the hospital staff. We were just eccentric Americans to them and they tolerated us.

And so began our wonderful years with our youngest child. They passed too quickly and now she is studying Computer Science in Nacogdoches at Stephen F. Austin University. It's only 3 hours away but too far.
I admire my fellow moms as I realize I am the latest in a long line of parents that have had to say goodbye to a child going off to college. They are ours to treasure forever but the stage changes and the play goes on.
My family is now scattered. My son, Titus and his family in Japan, a grandaughter lives in Romania, and my daughter Maya and her family in Missouri. My dad and brothers and sister in California. My son Tim was off to war in Iraq  for 2 tours and is back and now due to finish University this year. My son Jason lives near by. Perla Renee came back from Albania and Russia and settled nearby with her Russian husband. My eldest, Nadia, lives with us with her family. Or is it more accurate to say we live with her. and her family? In reality, all is well for now and I feel lonely for the ones far away, but blessed to have had them close for as long as I did.

The Rose Breast Clinic

There are so many things to fill our lives. From the time we wake up, til' the time our heads hit the pillow, we have constant input. It seems there are not enough hours in the day and then there is the reaction of  frustration. I have my endless TO DO lists.
New factors arrived on my door step this spring. During a doctor visit, I was told I needed to start medicine for Diabetes. A few weeks later, I was told there was a possibility I had breast cancer. I was able to delay the diabetes medicine by a promise of weight loss and a better diet. I was given 3 months to work on that. I was also scheduled for a breast biopsy at The Rose Clinic in 1 month.
A few weeks later, I was out shopping for a gift for my mom for Mother's Day when my brother called me about my mom. The doctor had always warned us that if my mom had a bad fall, it would kill her. She had been suffering from Alzheimers for the last few years. She had been under hospice care for about 8 months and care had been taken to make her life as happy and safe as possible.
My brother Bruce called that Saturday to say that my mom had just fallen twice and was not expected to live long.
I quickly rescheduled my medical appointments and left for California. I arrived there just 10 hours after my mother passed away. It all went so quickly. It was a sad time for all of us and we felt the loss of my mom so profoundly.
I experienced the loss of my mom and the potential challenge of serious health care troubles  all at once. I began to take a closer look at all that mattered in my life and it wasn't all that easy to slow down and do just that.
With  the passing of my mom and the trip to California, I had to postpone my breast biopsy for another month. It was a worry and on my mind. When the date finally arrived, we had pulled  up to the clinic all ready to check in, when they called me on my cell phone to say their machines weren't working. They wanted to reschedule me once again. Since we were already there, they agreed to let us wait to see if they could get it fixed.
The waiting room filled up and I was surprised to see I was the oldest person there. There was such a  strong atmosphere of fear and apprehension in the room. Everyone was facing what I was facing and all in their own stages of uncertainty.
I sat there and while looking over each person and praying for their peace, health, and their families, it was impossible to keep from tearing up. I didn't have  much time to wallow in my  own concern.

When the time came to get my biopsy, I have to say that the staff there were the kindest people I have ever met in the Medical profession.  Their concern and kindness made me tear up all over again. We were all in not just good hands, but loving hands.

A week later, I was one of the blessed ones to find out that my test results showed that my condition was benign. Thank God!
 I did want to write this post in appreciation for The Rose Clinic, the women that founded it, and all the staff. When I heard that they never turn anyone in need away, my esteem for them grew even more. In these uncertain days of health care scares and insurance scares, a place like this one, is a God send for women. It is a bad enough scare to find out you may have a serious problem but an even worse scare to not know what to do about it and where to turn.
I am thankful it is behind me for now but with a new concern for the women of this world and a respect and love for those that truly care. May we all grow in love and compassion and give what we can to make the lives of those in need, easier.

Life and Living

My stomach tightens as I approach the glass door. What will I see today? I’ve been out of touch for a few weeks-I haven’t even heard from Hospice. I need to visit my mom. When I round the corner of the assisted living home to go to her room, I see her at the end of the hallway sitting in her wheelchair, draped over the bar that opens the door. There are no locks-no alarms. It’s not a lockdown facility. Mom has escaped several times already-once losing her shoes in the back field after midnight. She was found by someone coming on shift. The shoes were found the next day. She looks defeated today, but then she sits up and and cracks the door open, just as I reach her. She’s in the midst of an escape attempt. I put an arm around her shoulders and one on her outstretched arm. “Are you having a bad day Mom?” She looks up with green eyes I have known since she was 18 and she begins to cry. Not easy crying, but hard, gut wrenching crying. Her face crumples and contorts. Grief is etched on her flaky, pale skin. “Oh, it must be a really hard day for you. I’m so sorry,” I say as hug and kiss her. I think about how we didn’t hug and kiss when I was growing up. Hitting and humiliation took the place of praise and encouragement. The anguish on her face pierces my heart though, and I want to pour my love out to her. “Are you sad today Mom?” I ask. “You look really sad…” “No, I’m okay,” her voice so small, I barely grasp her words. “How about we go down to your room and hang out?” I ask. She covers her face and bends her head down low, trying to keep her feet off the ground, but stubbing and dragging her toes under the wheel chair. When we go to her room, she points to her loveseat and starts to get up. I quickly put on the wheelchair brakes, get in front of her, wrap my arms around her middle and use my body weight to turn her and get her settled on her couch. I sit beside her as she continues to cry. I fold my body around her, hold her, rock her and rub her arms. “What do you want to do today Mom?” “I want to go home. Nobody will take me home.” “Are you lonely?” I ask. I don’t want to talk about taking her home. I know we can’t take her there, but it seems so wrong. She’s been married for over 65 years. She’s built a life with my dad. He built the house she lived in since 55 years ago. It was a big property with lots of room for an orchard and gardens. We always had fresh things to eat. Mom’s favorites were fruits…they had to be on the green side though. Cherries were her favorites. That was her property, her little farm and now she lives inside a building on a barren lot covered with weeds and gravel and a foundation for a building that can’t be built because the home ran out of money. I rock her and hold her and she leans into me and begins stroking and holding my hand. “Have you seen Laurie?” she asks. “She’s my girl with the little child’s voice.” “No Mom, she’s in Texas.” “I didn’t know that. What’s she doing there?” “She raises dogs. Lots of dogs. For people who need helper dogs. Her dogs can bring the telephone and the remote controls.” “They can? That’s nice.” “What about Bruce? Did you see him?” “Oh yeah I did. Bruce is a great brother and I love Shelly too.” “Yeah, she’s a good girl,” Mom says, “a good wife.” “Does Bruce have a job yet?” she asks. “Yep, he’s a preacher. He has loud music in his church.” “Why?” she wants to know. “That’s crazy.” The door to Mom’s room opens for a second and quickly closes. “Who was that Mom?” “It was my Mom. She saw we were busy and left. She’ll come back.” Grandma’s been dead since 1962, but no matter. Mom’s speech isn’t clear like I’m writing it. It all goes together in a mishmash and she talks so soft I can barely hear. I try to see the forest and not to see each tree. Ideas and sentences emerge as I intuit and search for her meaning. Sometimes she speaks a sentence of total gibberish, and I know that she knows she didn’t get it out right, and it seems like she’s locked away in a tiny distant cabin in a dense forest, peering out the windows, wanting so badly to share her meaning. Just then the music begins. When the Roll is Called up Yonder…On Friday mornings an elderly couple comes to play the piano and sing hymns with the residents. “Do you want to go sing Mom?” “No, I don’t like those people,” she says. So we stay embracing on the couch. A minute later, Mom starts to stand up. “Where ya going Mom?” I ask. “Sing,” she says. There’s seven ladies and a man with their wheelchairs all pulled in a circle. They start their second song. ”What a Friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and griefs to bear.” Mom hums softly. I never could sing any of those hymns. You had to be a soprano to hit the high notes and I always had a rough edged walnut shell in my voicebox. I only realized a few years ago that I can hit all the notes when I sing tenor. O what peace we often forfeit, O what needless pain we bear, All the old people sing soft and so I boom out the tenor to encourage everyone. Mom stares at me for a second and then she starts singing louder. “That was the song they sang at my confirmation when I was in 4th grade,” a cheerful woman says at the end. “Does anyone have a request? Anyone at all?” the song leader asks at the end of the song. “Do you have a request Mom?” I ask. “What a friend we have in Jesus…” she says. “Okay then, we just sang that song, but we’ll sing it again, Praise God,” the guy says. And we have a second round of What a Friend we Have in Jesus. I'll fly away, fly away, Oh Glory I'll fly away; When I die, Hallelujah, by and by, I'll fly away I start using my finger as a bouncing ball under each word of the song and I sing even louder thinking of Allison Krause and Jimmy Page’s version. Mom’s voice goes louder too. Sarah in the next chair remarks that she’s never heard Mom sing so loud. Mom is a soprano and I love hearing her pretty, high voice. “They sang that song at my confirmation,” says the cheerful woman. Matter of fact, she said that after every song we sang. I sang my heart out once stopping to think that I felt truly happy… and not just because I was helping Mom have a meaningful experience, but because I was enjoying sitting in the wheelchair circle singing with the old folks. I noticed that all of the songs have a reference to death or getting to heaven though. About that time, my Dad and Uncle Brooks walk in the room, probably quite surprised to see me belting out hymns. Dad doesn’t talk to Mom and walks across the room to say hello to someone. Mom’s eyes follow him, filling once again with tears. “I think I saw your husband Mom…” “Is it him?” she asks. “It is him.” She sighs and looks longingly in his direction. Then came the little sermon-the 23rd Psalm. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death? Strikes me as a lot of messages about death today. I wonder if it was planned that way. It makes a certain kind of sense in a place like this where people go to die. Or is it about Christianity? Is it about a religion fixed in the future? Will we be damned when we die or will we live in glory when we die? It’s like the main act happens after a person dies. So the song service and the Psalm are getting the old folks ready for what’s next? Dad feeds Mom some Mandarin oranges, calls her honey, kisses and hugs her and is on his way. Mom is not quite sure where he went or if he was coming back. She asks why he didn’t take her? Just then an attendant comes and announces that lunch is ready. I hear a man in the hall asking her, “Where is everybody?” I had noticed when I came in that several rooms were cleared out. “Well…” she sounds uncomfortable. “Some people passed away and some are in the hospital and some just moved away.” When I take Mom down to the dining room, I see some bed ridden people eating lunch in their rooms, but the dining room is more than half-empty. I look around to see whose face is missing. I don’t see Quilma or Mary. A few of the men are gone. I hope they are just late for lunch. Mom sits at a table with Sal, Joyce and Bonnie now. The plates of food come. Mom gets a plastic plate again and a real fork. She had to use paper plates and plastic spoons for months after she soared a plastic plate across the room almost hitting a resident. The menu for lunch is pork and beans, chunks of ham, a tiny roll and a cup of water with a straw. Sal comes to the table and stands looking at me. He’s a quiet guy who wanders the halls, sometimes unaware that his pants are loaded. A trail of aroma sometimes wafts after him. I always say hello but he never speaks. “Hi Sal. How’s it going?” I ask. He grunts at me with a slight smile. “There’s a great lunch today. Pull up a chair.” He stands up tall, spreads his arms like wings and yells. “AHHHHHHH…”at the top of his lungs, the slight smile never leaving his face. The dining room is quiet as everyone turns in their seat to look at him and then turn back to their ham and beans. “Lunch looks good,” I say. He sits and begins to pick up beans in his fingers and chow down. He eats all the ham chunks in less than a minute. Joyce, who hardly ever eats, starts taking ham off her plate and putting it on Sal’s plate. “He’s hungry,” she says. I break apart Mom’s roll, and spread the butter from the gold foil packet. She tastes it. “Real butter…” she says rolling it against the top of her mouth with her tongue. When my parents first got married at 17 and 21, they could barely afford food and had envelopes of cash for each bill they had to pay. There was a separate envelope for real butter. Mom has forgotten many things, but her love for real butter will probably be one of the last things she forgets. Bonnie sits at my right. She’s the lady who has a flap of skin between her nostrils that she pulls on all the time til it’s almost a half-inch long. She has a new habit. She’s started pulling on the little cartilage ridges inside her ears and they are getting bigger. They look like little piles of pink chewing gum. “Hey Bonnie, How are you?” I ask. “What?” she bellows. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in a long time.” I raise my volume. “I’m fine,” she draws out her words in a deep Southern accent. “I guessss,” she says. Everytime she says anything, she follows it with a long …I guesssss. “Lunch looks good today, doesn’t it?” “I guesss.” “How about that little roll. It looks tasty.” “I guesss.” Mom has eaten every bit of food from her plate and is wiping up bean juice with her finger and sucking it off. “I want another roll with real butter”, she says. I go into the kitchen and bring her back another roll which I split and butter. She picks up one half in a spoon and begins to eat it. She hands me the other. This one is for you. I think she actually would like to eat it, but she is giving it to me and I’m touched by her generosity. I’ve been with Mom for three hours and need to go home. I tell her I’m leaving. “Do you have to go?” she asks. “Yeah, I do Mom, but I’ll come back.” “Do you have a house?” “Uh-huh..I do.” “Do you have your own car?” “Yes, I do.” “Will you take me in your car and take me home?” “Oh Mom. I can’t. I’m sorry.” At that moment an attendant comes in to check Mom’s diaper. She mostly speaks Spanish. “Pee pee? Pee pee?” She asked, feeling Mom’s diaper. Mom nodded her head yes. As the attendant helps Mom stand, I kiss her and say goodbye. Her green eyes once again filling with tears. I feel like shit leaving her there. Most of the time she doesn’t remember that I was even here-even a short time after I leave. All I can do is make her time easier when I am with her and cross my fingers that I can figure out how to do that. Click here to Reply or Forward

My sister's visit with my mom in a Memory Care home.

My stomach tightens as I approach the glass door. What will I see today? I’ve been out of touch for a few weeks-I haven’t even heard from Hospice. I need to visit my mom. When I round the corner of the assisted living home to go to her room, I see her at the end of the hallway sitting in her wheelchair, draped over the bar that opens the door. There are no locks-no alarms. It’s not a lockdown facility. Mom has escaped several times already-once losing her shoes in the back field after midnight. She was found by someone coming on shift. The shoes were found the next day. She looks defeated today, but then she sits up and and cracks the door open, just as I reach her. She’s in the midst of an escape attempt. I put an arm around her shoulders and one on her outstretched arm. “Are you having a bad day Mom?” She looks up with green eyes I have known since she was 18 and she begins to cry. Not easy crying, but hard, gut wrenching crying. Her face crumples and contorts. Grief is etched on her flaky, pale skin. “Oh, it must be a really hard day for you. I’m so sorry,” I say as hug and kiss her. I think about how we didn’t hug and kiss when I was growing up. Hitting and humiliation took the place of praise and encouragement. The anguish on her face pierces my heart though, and I want to pour my love out to her. “Are you sad today Mom?” I ask. “You look really sad…” “No, I’m okay,” her voice so small, I barely grasp her words. “How about we go down to your room and hang out?” I ask. She covers her face and bends her head down low, trying to keep her feet off the ground, but stubbing and dragging her toes under the wheel chair. When we go to her room, she points to her loveseat and starts to get up. I quickly put on the wheelchair brakes, get in front of her, wrap my arms around her middle and use my body weight to turn her and get her settled on her couch. I sit beside her as she continues to cry. I fold my body around her, hold her, rock her and rub her arms. “What do you want to do today Mom?” “I want to go home. Nobody will take me home.” “Are you lonely?” I ask. I don’t want to talk about taking her home. I know we can’t take her there, but it seems so wrong. She’s been married for over 65 years. She’s built a life with my dad. He built the house she lived in since 55 years ago. It was a big property with lots of room for an orchard and gardens. We always had fresh things to eat. Mom’s favorites were fruits…they had to be on the green side though. Cherries were her favorites. That was her property, her little farm and now she lives inside a building on a barren lot covered with weeds and gravel and a foundation for a building that can’t be built because the home ran out of money. I rock her and hold her and she leans into me and begins stroking and holding my hand. “Have you seen Laurie?” she asks. “She’s my girl with the little child’s voice.” “No Mom, she’s in Texas.” “I didn’t know that. What’s she doing there?” “She raises dogs. Lots of dogs. For people who need helper dogs. Her dogs can bring the telephone and the remote controls.” “They can? That’s nice.” “What about Bruce? Did you see him?” “Oh yeah I did. Bruce is a great brother and I love Shelly too.” “Yeah, she’s a good girl,” Mom says, “a good wife.” “Does Bruce have a job yet?” she asks. “Yep, he’s a preacher. He has loud music in his church.” “Why?” she wants to know. “That’s crazy.” The door to Mom’s room opens for a second and quickly closes. “Who was that Mom?” “It was my Mom. She saw we were busy and left. She’ll come back.” Grandma’s been dead since 1962, but no matter. Mom’s speech isn’t clear like I’m writing it. It all goes together in a mishmash and she talks so soft I can barely hear. I try to see the forest and not to see each tree. Ideas and sentences emerge as I intuit and search for her meaning. Sometimes she speaks a sentence of total gibberish, and I know that she knows she didn’t get it out right, and it seems like she’s locked away in a tiny distant cabin in a dense forest, peering out the windows, wanting so badly to share her meaning. Just then the music begins. When the Roll is Called up Yonder…On Friday mornings an elderly couple comes to play the piano and sing hymns with the residents. “Do you want to go sing Mom?” “No, I don’t like those people,” she says. So we stay embracing on the couch. A minute later, Mom starts to stand up. “Where ya going Mom?” I ask. “Sing,” she says. There’s seven ladies and a man with their wheelchairs all pulled in a circle. They start their second song. ”What a Friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and griefs to bear.” Mom hums softly. I never could sing any of those hymns. You had to be a soprano to hit the high notes and I always had a rough edged walnut shell in my voicebox. I only realized a few years ago that I can hit all the notes when I sing tenor. O what peace we often forfeit, O what needless pain we bear, All the old people sing soft and so I boom out the tenor to encourage everyone. Mom stares at me for a second and then she starts singing louder. “That was the song they sang at my confirmation when I was in 4th grade,” a cheerful woman says at the end. “Does anyone have a request? Anyone at all?” the song leader asks at the end of the song. “Do you have a request Mom?” I ask. “What a friend we have in Jesus…” she says. “Okay then, we just sang that song, but we’ll sing it again, Praise God,” the guy says. And we have a second round of What a Friend we Have in Jesus. I'll fly away, fly away, Oh Glory I'll fly away; When I die, Hallelujah, by and by, I'll fly away I start using my finger as a bouncing ball under each word of the song and I sing even louder thinking of Allison Krause and Jimmy Page’s version. Mom’s voice goes louder too. Sarah in the next chair remarks that she’s never heard Mom sing so loud. Mom is a soprano and I love hearing her pretty, high voice. “They sang that song at my confirmation,” says the cheerful woman. Matter of fact, she said that after every song we sang. I sang my heart out once stopping to think that I felt truly happy… and not just because I was helping Mom have a meaningful experience, but because I was enjoying sitting in the wheelchair circle singing with the old folks. I noticed that all of the songs have a reference to death or getting to heaven though. About that time, my Dad and Uncle Brooks walk in the room, probably quite surprised to see me belting out hymns. Dad doesn’t talk to Mom and walks across the room to say hello to someone. Mom’s eyes follow him, filling once again with tears. “I think I saw your husband Mom…” “Is it him?” she asks. “It is him.” She sighs and looks longingly in his direction. Then came the little sermon-the 23rd Psalm. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death? Strikes me as a lot of messages about death today. I wonder if it was planned that way. It makes a certain kind of sense in a place like this where people go to die. Or is it about Christianity? Is it about a religion fixed in the future? Will we be damned when we die or will we live in glory when we die? It’s like the main act happens after a person dies. So the song service and the Psalm are getting the old folks ready for what’s next? Dad feeds Mom some Mandarin oranges, calls her honey, kisses and hugs her and is on his way. Mom is not quite sure where he went or if he was coming back. She asks why he didn’t take her? Just then an attendant comes and announces that lunch is ready. I hear a man in the hall asking her, “Where is everybody?” I had noticed when I came in that several rooms were cleared out. “Well…” she sounds uncomfortable. “Some people passed away and some are in the hospital and some just moved away.” When I take Mom down to the dining room, I see some bed ridden people eating lunch in their rooms, but the dining room is more than half-empty. I look around to see whose face is missing. I don’t see Quilma or Mary. A few of the men are gone. I hope they are just late for lunch. Mom sits at a table with Sal, Joyce and Bonnie now. The plates of food come. Mom gets a plastic plate again and a real fork. She had to use paper plates and plastic spoons for months after she soared a plastic plate across the room almost hitting a resident. The menu for lunch is pork and beans, chunks of ham, a tiny roll and a cup of water with a straw. Sal comes to the table and stands looking at me. He’s a quiet guy who wanders the halls, sometimes unaware that his pants are loaded. A trail of aroma sometimes wafts after him. I always say hello but he never speaks. “Hi Sal. How’s it going?” I ask. He grunts at me with a slight smile. “There’s a great lunch today. Pull up a chair.” He stands up tall, spreads his arms like wings and yells. “AHHHHHHH…”at the top of his lungs, the slight smile never leaving his face. The dining room is quiet as everyone turns in their seat to look at him and then turn back to their ham and beans. “Lunch looks good,” I say. He sits and begins to pick up beans in his fingers and chow down. He eats all the ham chunks in less than a minute. Joyce, who hardly ever eats, starts taking ham off her plate and putting it on Sal’s plate. “He’s hungry,” she says. I break apart Mom’s roll, and spread the butter from the gold foil packet. She tastes it. “Real butter…” she says rolling it against the top of her mouth with her tongue. When my parents first got married at 17 and 21, they could barely afford food and had envelopes of cash for each bill they had to pay. There was a separate envelope for real butter. Mom has forgotten many things, but her love for real butter will probably be one of the last things she forgets. Bonnie sits at my right. She’s the lady who has a flap of skin between her nostrils that she pulls on all the time til it’s almost a half-inch long. She has a new habit. She’s started pulling on the little cartilage ridges inside her ears and they are getting bigger. They look like little piles of pink chewing gum. “Hey Bonnie, How are you?” I ask. “What?” she bellows. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in a long time.” I raise my volume. “I’m fine,” she draws out her words in a deep Southern accent. “I guessss,” she says. Everytime she says anything, she follows it with a long …I guesssss. “Lunch looks good today, doesn’t it?” “I guesss.” “How about that little roll. It looks tasty.” “I guesss.” Mom has eaten every bit of food from her plate and is wiping up bean juice with her finger and sucking it off. “I want another roll with real butter”, she says. I go into the kitchen and bring her back another roll which I split and butter. She picks up one half in a spoon and begins to eat it. She hands me the other. This one is for you. I think she actually would like to eat it, but she is giving it to me and I’m touched by her generosity. I’ve been with Mom for three hours and need to go home. I tell her I’m leaving. “Do you have to go?” she asks. “Yeah, I do Mom, but I’ll come back.” “Do you have a house?” “Uh-huh..I do.” “Do you have your own car?” “Yes, I do.” “Will you take me in your car and take me home?” “Oh Mom. I can’t. I’m sorry.” At that moment an attendant comes in to check Mom’s diaper. She mostly speaks Spanish. “Pee pee? Pee pee?” She asked, feeling Mom’s diaper. Mom nodded her head yes. As the attendant helps Mom stand, I kiss her and say goodbye. Her green eyes once again filling with tears. I feel like shit leaving her there. Most of the time she doesn’t remember that I was even here-even a short time after I leave. All I can do is make her time easier when I am with her and cross my fingers that I can figure out how to do that. Click here to Reply or Forward

Volunteer work at a "No Kill" dog shelter

Today was my first visit to a "No Kill"  shelter, I was there as part of a volunteer group to tear down, clean up and build new kennels. Thankfully it was a great day for working outside. I was surprised to see that all the residents were Pit Bulls or a mix. I can understand them being hard to adopt out. We had a team of 35 people from the college I attend. I was amazed at how well things were organized and how hard every one was working. I had the job of taking pictures until they gave me a shovel and told me to dig weeds. Although most people there had pick up trucks, we were almost swallowed up in the pot holes in the parking lot so, for some reason, they put the girls on filling up the holes with gravel.
We all had a bit of instruction for a burley fellow. He showed us how to effectively toss a  shovel full of gravel into a hole filled with muddy water. Then he handed me a pick ax and taught me how to dig in a pile of gravel properly I was dreaming of being inside washing the dogs dishes. I didn't last long on the chain gang before I started getting dizzy and was off to wash dishes.
All in all, these folks do a wonderful job and you can see they believe strongly in helping these older, abandoned dogs. It is a good cause and a job quickly done with a team of Kingwood College students. I was glad to be a part. Laurie Claire Wells

Houston's Rodeo

Rodeo days in Houston are really big deals. It is quite amazing how the city comes to life in a "cowboy" mode. Starting off with the trail rides converging on Houston and making traffic  come to a standstill while they slowly meander along. to the wonderful chile cook offs. And of course I love all the Country music.
I do miss the times when I would take all my kids and spend all day at the exhibits, eating lunch and then enjoy watching the kids roll down the grass slopes over and over. Now, as they are all grown, when rodeo days come around, I  just get so sentimental.
This year, Violet is participating in the Loan-a-Llama program again. I can't miss that. It's more exciting than the Pig races with all the pigs that have politician's names. I don't know how they get away with that?
Well, rodeos have come a long ways from when I was a kid at the Sutter County Fair Grounds in Yuba City when I would ride my horse all the way to town to participate. I guess it was a 1 woman trail ride. I had my fun and won quite a few small prizes and had my losses as well due to my talented but stubborn horse Ringo.

Diabetes

Well, I am officially diabetic. It's not a shock as my grandmother, mom and sis all have/had the problem. It is new territory and will take some time. Teresa suggested a walk yesterday and we ended up going 8 miles on the new Spring Creek Greenway. It runs right by our house;. which makes it convenient. Jesse Jones Park and Pundt Park now have a paved road joining them. It was a bit busy however as policemen on their 4 wheelers kept zipping by us. I am embarking on a exercise/ diet journey with more gusto.
I welcome any tips.

Backpack days

Interesting enough, I am not the only 62 year old person returning to college. There are a number of mothers I meet that are working on their second career. I am also working with a disabled student as her notetaker. I actually enjoy her class and feel like I am back in HighSchool, I just enjoy being around a whole new group of colorful people. The teacher, my age, is hilarious in class and that's good to see how she reaches out and challenges the kids,
Teresa talked me into taking the Honors course so I am in Computer class with kids that started teething on keyboards. It's just 2nd nature to them and I am walking around home, trying to think in digits.

Actually, I do enjoy the class although it's driving me crazy. If only Obama would have a plan to help seniors that should be retiring, return to school so we can get better jobs! Laurie Claire Wells

Looking for Santa

Everyone in the household is on high alert. The pile of presents under the tree is growing daily and so far Zane hasn't been able to catch the person putting them there. Zane is convinced that Santa sneaks in nightly and if he keeps guard, he will eventually catch him. Some watch dog!
So, the topic of gifts! What to get, how to get them, who to get them for and last of all....what am I getting? I was watching my daughter fret over gift for the kids. her 4 yr' old wants a real space ship and a space elevator. Try and get that up the chimney dear Santa. My daughter's  6 year old daughter wants art stuff and World Peace.
Favorite Aunts are plotting just how to tickle the kids pink with lots of goodies and the UPS truck has graced our door with frequent visits.
How to find the balance? How to instill in the kids a sense of values and thankfulness and concern for the needy?
Give the gift of time. It can be the hardest to give. It can be painful if it's a muscle never used. Get down on the floor and read a book with your child and listen, listen. listen. No matter how small, kids need someone to talk to that doesn't come framed in plastic. They need someone to listen to them even if their words don't make sense. Give the gift of love, companionship and attentiveness. We all want to share who we are.
And in giving....we shall receive.
Merry Christmas 2012  from Laurie Claire Wells

Random Texas Pictures

This was a friendly ribbon snake at Lake Houston Wilderness Park. This was the day we forgot our map and were totally lost for 3 hours..

Here are just a few pictures of Texas beauty

Laurie Claire Wells  2011-2012

The Texas Renaissance Festival 2012

Pics by Teresa Wells and Laurie Glines Wells Nov.2012

Finals

I admire all the people that are attempting school at the moment. Since I have been taking my daughter to college everyday this last year and a half, I have gotten to know some of the students and what they are up against. I was initially shocked by how many people are going BACK to school. I felt odd at first and thought that surely everyone must be staring an me as I walked across campus but then it became obvious that I wasn't such a novelty at all.
So, I have to say I admire the students that are right now cramming to take the semester's finals. young and senior. Seeing the atrange places my daughter studies in, I have to laugh but to some of these people that are older and managing to attend school, work and juggle a family, I just think they are the greatest and I pray they reach their goals....and get good grades!
Well, let's all try and take time to enjoy Christmas in spite of finals and busy schedules. Let's have love, compassion and understanding for each other and  share each others burdens in any small way we can. One small act of kindness can just make the difference!

Christmas 2012 Laurie Claire Wells in Texas.
PS Oh, by the way, it feels like summer here....where's the white Christmas? We are all still in shorts!

Opinions Unsolicited

In the course of my everyday busisness, I have found that I have become more openly opinionated. Maybe it's just an indirect result of the crazy Presidential Elections this year. The whole tone of things amazed me to the point where in spite of me becoming opinionated about other things, I cannot find words for how I feel about the elections. Wait, I do take that back. My overall feeling is one of disappointment in human nature.
Enough said about that,

I went shopping at Sams Club today and ran into a lady wheeling her cart to her car.  She had a bag of Beneful Dog Food in her basket. Dog Food Advisor rates the brand with a big F and explains the reasons why. At the time I was going over the ratings I just happened to be using Beneful. After reading the reasons, I just tossed it out in the nearest garbage can, which happened to be the neighbor's at the time, and changed brands to an brand rated A+ and that was that.

Out of the ear shot of  any Sam's employees, I told her where she could get my new favorite brand. It just so happened to be sold at Sam's big competitor, Costco. I sat in my car for a bit afterwards, thinking that I was in danger of having my picture posted in the local establishments due to my new practice. With all the econonic woes people face, I have just felt we all need to give a hand in getting the best deals for what money we still have.
Someone suggested I just start my own Farmer's Market and open up an adjacent stand for consumer advice. I'd probably eventually get stoned.
Oh well, those are my short thoughts today on being 62 and a lot more opinionated nowdays.

Laurie Claire Wells 2012 and going strong.......