The Past Destroyed - Part I

My day did not go well today.

Opening the garage door to leave for a meeting, I realized that it was raining outside...and in. I noticed that the water was coming down directly in the center of the garage, where we have a large metal beam covered in drywall. The drywall was already pretty wet and my guess was that with all the snow Andrew and I had left on the deck, it was just too much and was melting more than the gutter could handle.

I probably should have not gone to my meeting at all, but instead I called my brother Jake to ask him for help  in shoveling the snow off the deck. He did, but when I talked to him prior to my second meeting, he said the leaking was still pretty bad. I decided to leave and get home to work on the problem. I'm sure a few people might have wondered why I was leaving 5 minutes before the meeting, but no doubt some of them have seen my status on Facebook and understood what happened.

When I got home I saw that the water wasn't just coming down in the center, but the entire length of the beam in the garage. Boxes we had on the sides of our garage were getting wet, and I immediately set to work removing them. What I thought had just been a few drips was actually a lot more. I was able to move or save all but one box - my box of memories.

This white box with a flip top and seam that runs down the middle had gotten water inside, and it had pooled about six inches full on the bottom. Jake and I tipped the box to corral the water out, and then emptied it inside the house.

On this box I had a note clear taped to it: Danielle's Private Box: Do Not Open. I put that note there years ago, not really believing it would be a deterrent should anyone want to pry, but more or less hoping to spare myself of the embarrassment should someone find my yearbooks and treasures. But the feeling of watching a simple element like water destroy the items inside was far more painful. Yearbooks, journals, diplomas, two graduation caps and a gown, pictures, trinkets, postcards, letters, copies of email, and a box of random keepsakes - all soaked with water. Some just a little, some completely drenched, but nothing made it out dry. I took a deep breath and looked at Jake, who no doubt expected me to lose my cool right there. My head was warm and I could feel the tears swelling. But I didn't have time for it - I had to get back to work. I sucked in my feelings and didn't think of the items until we had cleaned up what we could.

I don't consider myself a sentimental person (if you know my mother, you know why), but it's very hard to let go of your youth when you guarded it so carefully. My 4 journals detailing my life from age 14 to 24 was my coming of age. And my yearbooks (elementary, middle, and high school) were just as important. Sure, I don't see most of those people anymore, but they were reminders of a simpler time, and the innocence of youth. The drama was higher, and everything a big deal, but still easier somehow.

And there they were. Destroyed before my eyes.

I've started going through the pieces. Some things I could save. Single pieces of paper that weren't attached to anything. Photos where the ink hadn't run. A coin and a plastic keychain. Cardboard was ruined though. As was anything with pen ink. That's where the real trouble was with the yearbooks and journals - the pen ink bled into the neighboring pages. Most of the words written are illegible now, but I'm hoping that with a bit of drying, I might get lucky. In the meantime, I threw away a bunch of items, and took pictures of some things before I did. I won't be able to get them back as they are, but I can still hold on to the memory of them, and that's what counts, right? I certainly hope so.

Our Decision and My Request

Every time I start to write this post, something else happens that makes it invalid and I have to start again. But I am determined to finish this, because now I'm at the stage where I need more help.

But first, I need to bring you up to speed.

In September, the VA diagnosed my grandfather (I'll just say Dan from here out) with Alzheimer's. We've all known his memory has been failing for quite some time, but the doctors felt it went beyond dementia. He's now on a pill called donepezil. I don't think it helps much, but that's just me.

We had a family appointment at the VA with the memory care doctor in October, where the doctor explained it again to Dan and my mother (Deb), who was in significant denial about the diagnosis in September. The doctor explained to them how his memory was failing and what exactly this meant. (I had heard this before, so this appointment was specifically for Deb and Dan (again)). She also recommended assisted living for his safety. After Dan's accident in June, St. Gertrude's also recommended assisted living, so since then, Jake and I had been looking into options.

Prior to the appointment in October, Jake and I narrowed it down to four places, and went and visited each one, finally choosing St. Therese Southwest on the border of Eden Prairie and Hopkins. We were on the fence between that one and another, but the deciding factor was the fact that Aunt Sis is at this one as well. They would have the opportunity to visit each other, and we as a family could visit them both at the same time.

We had a room picked out and have been working on getting everything together for the Aid & Attendance benefit, so we're ready to go at any time. What is standing in my way is Deb.

She insisted that we try a day program first, we have been sending Dan to SarahCare in Savage for the past few weeks. However, the VA only covers two days a week of this, and more days is not something we can pay for out of pocket right now. Not that we want to do that anyway - he has friends that want to come pick him up sometimes, and he still likes to go to the Legends a couple nights a week. Even so, I can't stay at home with  him anymore.

So I talked to Deb on Sunday night and told her that I planned on putting Dan in St. Therese's within the month. Crying, she told me we would be killing him by taking him away from his home, but I disagree. I think that with all the social prospects (which the doctor said would be good for him) and the fact that people wanting to see him and take him out wouldn't have to check with me first, it would be a great move for him. Yes, it will be difficult at first, but he needs more than we can offer right now. I can't be here all the time, and neither can Deb or Jake. And when Deb is here, she's not upstairs with him. I tried to explain all these things to her, and in the end, she asked for me to wait until after Christmas. I may not have a choice, since I can't really do this without complete family support.

So my request for my family is to help me with Deb. I ask that family and friends (of about her age or older) call and talk to her. Assure her that she's doing the right thing. Moving my grandfather is the right idea. Two days ago, he fell again, and while it wasn't serious and he wasn't hurt, I fear that it could be worse one day.

I've worked very hard to keep my grandfather safe and healthy, and sometimes at the opposition of my mother. All I'm asking is that you help me to give her that final push. Jake and I have already done all the work; all she needs to do is just accept it and help us remind him (again and again) that this is best for him.

Talking to Dan is going to be difficult too, because he doesn't remember one day to the next, so I'm sure he's forgotten the appointment already, even with my talking to him about it. But one issue at a time.

Deb's number (and forgive me for the spam filter) is: 952-five eight three - five four zero three. She's not home (usually) from 9am to 7pm, Monday through Friday, but she comes home early on Mondays quite often. I would also recommend trying Dan's number: 952- four four seven five nine one seven.

Thank you all. Call me or write if you have questions, comments, or want more details. My number is: 952-four eight four - three two eight five.

While I am posting this online, I will call those of you not on Facebook or that I don't have emails for. But if my younger cousins (that is, my age) want to do me a favor and tell your parents about this, that would help too.Oh, and I'm sure I don't have to mention this, but don't tell her I asked you to call. That's a conversation I don't want to have later. :-P

The Grandfather Diaries 8/7/2012

Today I was working on phone calls, emails, and research. I've always been good at research, but these days I have to push myself to be even better. I cannot allow myself to miss anything. I have to search every corner and edifice of the internet to make sure that I find every option available to my family regarding my grandfather.

After the staff at St. Gertrude's told us that my grandfather needed 24-hour care due to his memory getting worse, my mother, brother and I have been with him almost all the time. That's not to say that he doesn't get alone time or can't leave the house. On the contrary, he's a very busy man. Despite not being able to drive anymore (which he resents us for), my grandfather gets out quite a bit, going to luncheons, playing cards, seeing friends. At least, it seems a lot to me. But to him, he's lost quite a bit of freedom.

Today was a tough day for us. Every day I come over and sit with him, making sure he has lunch, stays clean (I won't elaborate on that; you can guess), and gets where he needs to go. This is in addition to what I did before his accident: bills, light cleaning, and really whatever else he needed me to do. Thankfully, I have my husband and my cousin to help with yard work, which can really be time consuming. But it wasn't the full day of typical house maintenance that was difficult. No, today was a mental challenge.

At some point, and whether this was due to something I said or did I can't say, something clicked in my grandfather's head. He realized I had been there every day and that I wasn't just there to entertain myself. No, he figured out - and remembered for long enough to talk to me about it - that I was there watching him. Babysitting. This happened while we were outside on the porch chatting away.

Reminding me once again that I needed to get a job, I countered with expressing that he would be pretty bored without me around. From there, I stumbled into an argument that I had never hoped to find myself in. He bombarded me with questions on why I was there and why I felt I had to watch him all the time. Why I took him to work and why he was never alone and didn't have the freedom to go where he liked when he liked. Did I feel that he couldn't take care of himself?

That's exactly what I thought, and I told him so. As I said, this was an argument, and not a one-sided reprimand. However, while I was caught off guard, I'd like to think that I handled it pretty well. That is to say, I didn't break down crying after some of the things he said, and that was hard enough in itself.

My grandfather went on to say that he wasn't doing as bad as I thought. His memory was fine, he wasn't having any medical problems, and I should let him drive again. He also felt as though I was "checking up" on him at work. This surprised me particularly, because this is only his second week back, and I don't usually stick around while he's working. I stayed for an hour last night because he told me he'd buy me dinner for all my work around the house (and I wasn't going to pass up a free meal).

I explained to him that yes, he was having problems. His memory isn't as good as it used to be, and he needed help to get things done around the house. He also has been having some incontinence problems, and forgetting the clean-up that comes with it. I couldn't explain all that very well though... Something about telling your grandfather that he needs to change his underwear more is a bit difficult. Once again, though I know he doesn't remember the first time, I tried to explain to him what the doctors have been telling me: that he needs 24-hour care and that I can't leave him by himself during the day. I tried to add some humor to it, suggesting that the state would find me incompetent and I'd be in trouble. "Let me talk to them," he said, his voice almost pleading. I couldn't look at him for a moment. I shook my head and told him that there was no shame in your family helping you when you needed it. And he does need it.

After our conversation had settled down a bit, aided in part by the dog running toward a squirrel, I went inside to compose myself. Tears had come to my eyes and damned if I was going to let him see that.

If I learned anything today, it was how hard (and yet, important)  it is to be honest with him while at the same time trying to humor him. For the past few weeks, we've just let him think that we were hanging around for our benefit. Because we like to. And that isn't a lie, but I certainly spend a lot more time at my grandparents' house than I otherwise would. I've had to tell him several times that he can't drive and why, and that eventually, things were going to have to change.

It was a frustrating day, but I can't be angry with him. He has lost his freedom and privacy, and I can't fault him for being upset. And I can't be upset with him. He's like a small child or a baby - helpless. And he doesn't understand.

Taking him away from home and putting him somewhere else is going to kill him. And most likely me with him.

When It Rains, It Pours... and then Floods.

I had a wonderful trip to Japan this last week, where I visited my husband Andrew who is temporarily stationed at the Yokosuka Navy base. He's out there for a month, which isn't a long time, considering how long most deployments go. I arrived right in the middle of his stint, and arrived home yesterday already missing him.

How much I miss him is increasing exponentially with every obstacle I encounter.

While I was away, Minnesota had a couple nights of thunderstorms with rain. It filled up our downstairs room's egress and overflowed into the room through the window. The carpet was soaked. The furniture looks okay though, and this could have been much worse. Especially since we use the room as our computer room. I can imagine what sort of electrical nightmare that could have been. But thanks to friends and family - and a panic return call from my over-seas sailor - I have a good grasp on the situation, and am not going to let it get me down.

Then there are the wasps. I found three inside the house when I got home. Two of the little devils were by the deck screen door, dead, thankfully. I also found one downstairs next to the water heater. Andrew had suggested weeks ago that the wasp I had found near the garage door had come in through a vent, and after finding two upstairs, I was curious to look around and see if any more came in. This one was still alive, albeit barely. So I find myself still wondering - where are they coming from? This brings my inside-the-house wasp total to five this year. Our sliding door to the deck must be crap. Or the wasps are magical and can go through glass. That's all I need...magic wasps.

Andrew might know how to deal with these wasps better than I, but he's not around to be the man, so I have to be tough. I keep telling myself this. Be strong. Be the man. Kill the bugs that would harm you and your guinea pig. Boy, I miss him.

A couple of my plants started to grow while I was gone, though two were completely submerged in water. At least with this flooding problem, I can just dump out the excess and perhaps try to drill a hole into the plant boxes to prevent this from happening again. Sounds easy enough, right? No... I now I have wet dirt on my deck. And apparently you need a specific bit for the drill to make a hole, and not just any old screw head.

Have I mentioned that I miss my husband?

Somewhere in my youth, I really missed an important part of my education: man tasks. What to do when things go wrong. Growing up without a dad around the house (and then a mechanically challenged grandfather), you'd think that I would have had to learn this stuff for myself. And I did learn quite a few things: using a lawn-mower, killing spiders, putting furniture together. You know, maybe I should omit that spider part. I still have Andrew do that.

All too often I defer to Andrew in these situations that I can solve if I put my mind to it. I just need to focus. And it would probably help if I stop running, screaming, from the wasps.

Halloween Fun in Minnesota

I absolutely love Halloween. Of all the holidays, it is definitely my favorite because of its frivolous nature. Granted, historically, the purpose ran much deeper than dressing up and obtaining candy. And one might argue now that being whimsical and relaxed this time of year is good for the soul (and I would agree). But at the heart of modern Halloween are kids and adults who want to play dress up and have a good time with their friends while doing so. 

To facilitate that, I have some recommendations. 

First of all, did you know that Anoka, MN is the Halloween capital of the world?  Anoka treats Halloween like its very own city celebration, with many community events starting well before the 31^st. Be sure to check them out.

For those that are familiar with the Minnesota Renaissance Festival, you would have already heard of the Trail of Terror, which takes place in that same vicinity (though not on the Ren Fest grounds itself). Similar to the Fest of Fantasy, they hold a “Phantom’s Feast” – a five course meal with entertainment. I have not done the fest myself, but Trail of Terror is a good time, with a corn maze, haunted hayride, haunted house, and other events.

Also in Shakopee is the well-known Valley Fair amusement park. This time of year, they change their theme to Valley Scare, offering fun on rides and of the Halloween type as well. There is also Planet Spooky (normally Planet Snoopy) which has daytime Halloween fun for those who aren’t ready to see what’s in the shadows.

In 2009, Buck Hill in Burnsville started Frightmares, an event with multiple attractions. Every night of operation they have a live band, bonfire, magic show, and buildings to explore such as the Asylum and the Fright Factory. This looks to be a unique experience, and I hope to try it out this year.

If you’re really looking to be afraid, consider Scream Town in Chaska. They have a haunted corn maze, haunted forest, “Hillbilly Motel” themed haunted house, and new this year – a Circus Asylum. I don’t know about you, but clowns scare the crap out of me. Especially evil clowns.

Over in Cottage Grove, there’s a 3D Haunting Experience. They have a 3D Haunted House (glasses provided), a bonfire, hayride, nightly movies with concessions, and a garden center store. This event sounds like it might be a bit easier to digest if you have children or are easily scared.  In the same city, you can visit Deadview Cemetery, an outdoor-only event that sounds like a walk-through haunted maze.

Mounds Theater in St. Paul is haunted. Or so they’ve been told by psychics and paranormal experts. So what better time of year to offer tours than October?  Important to note is that this is a fundraiser for the operation of the theater year-round. Support the arts!

Mounds Theater isn’t the only place to have seen ghosts though. During prohibition, the Wabasha Caves saw their share of gangsters, and goodness knows how many bodies they piled up. Actually, the tour guides know. And they’ll tell you during their cave tours. You can experience their Ghost & Graves tour or the Caves & Graves tour. Check their calendar for details.

Steampunk fans may enjoy Victorian Ghost Stories at the James J. Hill house in St. Paul. This also includes a tour of the mansion and hot cider.

If you need some uncharted territory to instill fear, you can cross the border where you have more options. Dreadwood Forest in Hudson, WI boasts a site with little rules. You wander in the dark without guides in their completely undeveloped forest. You will be scared, they say.

Lastly, for the ultimate fans who want to spread their joy, and maybe have some alcohol to go with it: pub crawls. The yearly Zombie Pub Crawl is a favorite of fans of the undead. Complete with make-up help, this event is no-brainer (ha! pun!).  A week later is the Monster Pub Crawl, and if you hurry, you can get cheap tickets on Living Social or Groupon. 

Obviously, this is not an all-inclusive list. There is more. Lots more. Many local high schools put on haunted houses, as well as Lions or Jaycees. The Minnesota Historical Society has a few “after dark” events at various locations with Halloween themes. And of course, I can’t find everything. So if you hear about something else I may not have found, please let me know and I’ll add it to the list.

Enjoy your frightening month and have a happy Halloween!