Celebrating 89 Years

 

My Dad

Happy Father's Day 2013

My dad worked two jobs so my mom could stay at home and make sure his two children were always supervised.  Mondays and Thursdays we never saw him as he didn't arrive home until after 10, way past our bedtime.  I remember lying in bed, trying to stay awake until I heard the door open.  Mostly I remember the trying, not the succeeding.  He worked Saturdays too.  My mom used to dress us up and then take us to Macy's where he worked, selling children's shoes.  I will never forget the light in his eyes as he introduced us around and showed us off.  We loved those trips.  It was a special way to connect to the father we had limited access too.

One thing about my dad was he made all his time with us meaningful.  Sundays were family outing days.  I can still smell the elephants from those trips to the zoo and taste the ice cream from Carvel.  The Friday night fireworks we watched from the outskirts of Freedomland still light up my thoughts.  And, no matter how tired he was, he always managed to take me to the distant library when I needed to go or to carry those prized hula hoops on the subway during rush hour.

My dad retired from his first job right before my son was born.  They have the same birthday.  He always says that boy (man now) is the greatest gift he ever got, even when he was stuck changing dirty diapers during weekly babysitting duty.

When my mom got sick, dad retired from the job he loved to take care of her. He never worried about his own comfort as he ran from doctor to doctor, held her hand while she cried during the innumerable blood transfusion, cleaned her incontinence and everything else.  He cared and took care, never complaining, until the bitter end.

After mom died, dad lost his will to live.  I worried that I would soon be parentless, something I didn't want to deal with and couldn't deal with, but slowly, after years of tears, he regained his will to live.  He is stubborn, set in his ways and a general pain in the ass now, but I cherish every minute I have with him.  Life without him is impossible to imagine.

Over the past few years he has had several health scares.  He beat cancer.  He survived a bad fall, although it did age him many years.  Last week he fell several times (luckily he did not get hurt).  His aide called and we ended up in the emergency room at Einstein Hospital in the Bronx.  I won't go into it here, but the ER treatment left much to be desired.  After many hours he was transferred to the 9th floor (room 938) where he got the most terrific, unbelievably good treatment ever.  I can't say enough good things about Mrs. Hall, the head nurse, Macrina, his nurse, and especially Venetta, the unit secretary and everyone else on the floor.  Dad was delusional and unstable, but they gently cared for him and helped him come back.  It was heartbreaking to see this once strong, vibrant man suffering and psychotic.  Dad is home now, with Effie, his wonderful companion and care giver and doing better.

Sorry for the rambling.  Father's Day is here and I pray my dad will be around for many, many more. He will be 89 in a few weeks.  I know dad doesn't read this blog, but I still want to say it here.  Happy Father's Day to one of the best.  I love you.

(Pictured above is dad with his health aide Effie and Jessie, the man assigned to watch him in the hospital.)

Tribute to the fine people who cared for him in the hope of it getting back to the people in charge at the hospital)

Convincing Him He Is Not Going Blind



My dad had cataract surgery last year.  The doctor prescribed reading glasses and distance glasses.  He tells me he reads fine with the reading glasses but can't see the television when he looks up.  I tell him to change glasses, which he does if I am in the room. He's doing paper work with the reading glasses and looks at the television. Then he complains he can't see it.  I again tell him to change the glasses.  He does and sees fine.

He keeps telling me he is going blind.  He tells me the glasses don't help.  Most of the time they stay in their cases where they don't help at all.

HELP!!!!!! (I am afraid to put him in bifocals.)

July 15



Twenty nine years ago,  I gave my dad a birthday present that will never be beat--his first and only grandson. 

Two months ago I didn't think my dad would make another birthday.  Thanks to the wonders of modern medicine, he is back, better than ever.  While one present can never be topped, he was thrilled with breakfast at IHOP, complete with a birthday serenade and a sundae.

Happy 87th dad.  May we have many, many more together.

G-d Bless Medical Insurance



I'm getting my father back.

 Good Great health insurance got him into the offices of fantastic doctors.  The first doctor diagnosed the disease on a Thursday and got him an appointment with an oncologist on the following Tuesday.  The oncologist applied some pressure and got him in for a necessary body scan on Friday.  By Tuesday, we saw doctor 3, the radiation doctor and he got my dad started on treatments that Thursday.

It's been 4 weeks.  The cancer is shrinking and he is feeling much better.

My brother-in-law had no medical insurance.  His cancer went undiagnosed for years.  And, even when diagnosed, it took three months until he could start state subsidized treatment.  He didn't last very long.

And some people still think they don't need medical insurance.

Thanksgiving Day

Thanksgiving day, another day taking my dad to visit my mom. These trips are getting easier. He didn't even cry today and thanks to access-a-ride, he can spend the entire day here and get a ride home, saving us the trip.

Passover is the special holiday I remember with my mom. Thanksgiving was reserved for my mother-in-law. Every year, since 1985, the year my father-in-law died, we picked her up early and brought her to our house to spend the holiday. She was an eccentric character and I loved her both in spite of and because of her eccentricities. (I won't say what her worst one was except that I could never take her shopping.)

Every year, she would join me and my children as we hiked through Alley Pond Park, enjoying all the beauty nature has to offer this time of year in our own back yard. She loved watching the kids jump in the leaves and run up and down the ramp underneath the highway. All the while, her son, would sit at home and watch his football games in peace.

After our walk (and some cooking) we always took my daughter to a movie. It was a great girls' only bonding day. My kids always say that I was more like her than I was like my own mother. Maybe that is what attracted my husband to me in the first place.

Until today, I forgot how much I enjoyed spending the holidays with her. I think it must have been the fallen red leaves on my mom's grave that reminded me of how much I loved my other mom.

Poor Dad

My poor dad. Living alone is not good for him. Unfortunately, he won't have it any other way. He had a headache, was cold and he was sitting and crying.

Luckily there was no traffic and I made it to his house in record time. I even found a parking spot right away.

He felt better when I arrived. He likes my company (probably the only one who does) and I even made him some matzoh ball soup.

I planned on doing school work this evening. That will have to wait. My dad will aways come first.

Time Heals Somewhat

Jewish tradition has us visiting the graves of loved ones before the new year. We place stones on the grave to mark our visit. I used to think flowers were prohibited by Jewish law but never cared. My mom loved red roses and it makes my dad happy to bring them whenever we visit her. His happiness is more important to me than some law I might be breaking. I recently found out that there is no prohibition, just a custom. Flowers in Eastern Europe were very hard to come by so Jews did not use them. In Israel, where flowers grow abundantly, they can be found on graves everywhere. Hence, I made him happy and broke no commandments.

They say time heals and it does to some degree. Visiting the grave today I realized that while I miss her still, life does go on and she is in a better place. Seeing my dad break down as he talks and prays over the grave is much tougher. I try to harden my heart to his tears, but it is so hard. They were together for so long and inseparable in so many ways. And, while the tears don't last as long, they are still there. His heart will never be whole again.

He agreed to come home with me and spend the day here. We went for breakfast and then he did what he does best--he sat on the couch and watched television. The good part was that he was not alone. Football, my husbands passion and something he never cared about blared away and he sat mesmerized, asking questions and learning about the game.

He's home now, getting ready for bed. I'm sure he is sad again but at least I was able to make him happy for part of the day.

In the Words Of Sarah Palin

Instead of working today, I took my dad to Empire City.

Instead of making $200+, I made $12.

My dad had a great time.

Instead of working today, I went to the blood bank and had the life sucked out of me for a good cause.

Was it worth it? Would I do it again?

You betcha!

I Miss Her So Much

This post is depressing, you might want to skip it. I just came back from the cemetery and my feeling have to come out here since I can't let them out anywhere else. I know two people really close to me read this blog and I recommend that you both stay away from this post.


Mom, I know how you loved flowers. I still can't walk by a stand in the city and not want to buy you a big bunch.

When I look at my students, I always remember how proud you were of me when I used to meet you in Flushing and we ran into the kids I taught. Their warm words always warmed your heart. I'm so sorry I never brought you with me to work. I remember telling you to get better and I would bring you to school. You never did get better. You would have loved being in the classroom with me.

It shouldn't be this hard. I'm an adult, with adult children, a wonderful husband, two terrific kids, a great dad and a job I love. But, Passover is approaching and I still miss my mom so much, it hurts.

Passover was always a very special holiday in my house. We cleaned the house thoroughly. We got rid of all our Chometz and got out the special dishes, silverware, pots and pans, reserved for use this week only.

When I first got married, we celebrated one night in my parents house and one night in mine. I never minded the work. I loved the traditions. As the years passed, and my mom's health grew frail, we celebrated both nights in my home. The work was out of control, but I never minded. I treasured every minute with my family and my friends.

Seven years ago my mom was in the hospital on Passover. Although the food was good and the company great, I had a terrible time. It wasn't the same without her and my dad. I consoled myself with the thought that next year she would be better and be back at the table, and she was. We had another few years of celebrating the seder together. Then, she started feeling sick again. I remember my brother-in-law calling me into the kitchen and telling me he thought this would be her last Passover. I wanted to slug him. I couldn't believe he would say something so cruel, especially in my own house after he feasted on my cooking. He wasn't being cruel, though. He was being straight out honest. Mom didn't come back night two. She didn't feel up to it. We carried on without her and then brought leftovers to her another night during the week and did the best we could to celebrate again.

The first day back to work after the break my phone rang at 6:00 AM. My dad spent the night with her in the emergency room. I took off from work and ran to the hospital. When I got there, she didn't look so bad but little by little she deteriorated. By the time she got into a room, she was barely conscious.

Over the course of the next few weeks, she went from bad to worse. Aside from her physical conditions, her brain started failing. She hallucinated. She lost control of her bodily functions. Her kidneys failed. She needed a minor operation to drain some blood that was in her brain. She did not want it. We badgered her into agreeing to it. For anyone in good health, the surgery would have been minor. She never woke up from it. When the doctors wanted to disconnect the tubes, my sister fought for a tracheotomy and a feeding tube. Eventually, we had those removed and she died within hours, peacefully in her sleep.

While she was going through all this, I didn't think about her. She was in the hands of G-d and in the hands of good doctors. I focused on my dad. He was the one that needed me and I didn't have enough strength for both of them. I wasn't the good daughter I should have been. I let her down at the end.

Mom, every dish I prepare, I prepare thinking of how much you enjoyed it. I think of how proud you were of the table I set and the family I raised. I pray that there is some way you are watching us and still enjoying our Passover seders. Mom, I can't cry because if I do, daddy will cry too and he does enough of that without me egging him on. Mom, I know you always told me that death was part of living and that we all would be gone one day. I just wasn't ready to lose you. I don't think I ever could be ready.

Hardened Heart

My heart is hardening to my dad's tears. I can't survive any other way and luckily the tears are not coming as frequently and as hard as they used to.

The second anniversary of my mom's death is approaching and my dad is starting to have some bad days again. I called yesterday at 4:30 and he could barely talk. I offered to go over but he did not want company. An hour later, the phone rang again. "Rita, I need you." I told him I would be there within a half hour, traffic permitting. "Bring S", he said before hanging up. This scared me because I usually go alone. My dad finally was able to say he was having trouble breathing and needed to go to the ER. He wanted my husband along so I wouldn't have to worry about parking.

We flew out of the house. Just when I needed to make time, the Cross Island and the New England were both backed up. We made it in 30 minutes anyways. My dad was able to make it to the street on his own and we headed for Einstein, the hospital his cardiologist is connected to.

My dad was surprisingly calm on the way there. Only once did he tell me where the key to the safe deposit box was located and where to find his money.

The ER triage team took him quickly. They tested his pulse, blood pressure and oxygen level and I knew he was going to be fine because he did not get hooked up to any machines. In fact, they did not even give him a gown. Little by little his color returned.

We did wait a long time for an ER nurse, but that was due to a change of shifts. As soon as the night nurses came on, the sweetest young man (with a strong Jamaican accent, so of course I was hooked) came over. He took blood and asked some questions. The doctor arrived next. He checked my dad out, ordered an x-ray and said if everything was fine we could take him home.

I will love this doctor forever. He got us a quick x-ray, fast blood test results and released us to be home by 9:30 PM.

My dad was suffering from anxiety, nothing more but very scary. My heart is hardened to his tears but not to his pain. I will never let him suffer alone. I will never let him be alone. Growing up, there was nothing he would not do for me and my sister. Now there is nothing I will not do for him. I accept that no one lives forever and that he is 84 years old. I accept that there will come a time when I must say goodbye to him but not yet. That ride to the Bronx and the ride to the hospital scared all of us. I am grateful that I am able to write this now and know that he is safe and sound, happily watching television in his own apartment.

Sometimes You Just Have To Break The Rules

Packemin in cracking down on electronic device use. The kids have been told that if they are caught using one of these, it will be confiscated and returned only on Fridays afternoons to a parent.

I'm not big on confrontations so I have been reading them the riot act in hopes of not seeing these things and not having to make an issue out of them. So far, most of the kids have been pretty cooperative. If I happen to see one, I just tell them to put it away "before I see it."

I keep my own cell phone in my pocket at all times. I worry about my 84 year old dad who lives alone and would never call unless it was an emergency. I am all he has. While school rules should be obeyed, my dad comes before any of those rules and on the rare occasion my phone rings, I answer it.

Just as I got the last words out about the new cell phone regulations, my phone rang. I stopped mid sentence to answer it. The kids were silent. When I realized it was a wrong number and hung up, they got on my case for answering it. I explained my reasons to them. I also said I would be more than reasonable if any of them were in a similar situation. They forgave my indiscretion. One girl said "I hate my father. If he was lying on the ground, I would walk over him. Miss, you are so lucky." I then told them that I had the best dad in the world and I would do anything for him.

We ended the conversation and got to work. I won't worry about my phone ringing in that class again.

Thanksgiving

The only reason I look forward to Thanksgiving is the two days off from work. Not having a big family to celebrate with makes the holiday quiet, often boring and sad. Even my daughter decided not to celebrate with us this year. Her boyfriend has a wonderful, big family and she is having the celebration I always wanted. As I sit watching the news and seeing all the unfortunates in the soup kitchens I know I should be counting my blessings instead of weeping in my tea. But, sometimes a person just cannot help feeling sad.

Today is my parent's sixty first wedding anniversary. I began the day by taking my dad to visit her grave. The cemetery is in New Jersey and he is one of those octogenarians who knows his limitations behind the wheel and never makes the drive alone. It would have been too hard for him to be there alone. I picked him up at 7:15 and managed to be back in Queens by 10:00, beating all the holiday traffic.

I knew that today would be especially hard on him so I was thrilled when he agreed to come home with me. We had breakfast in a nearby diner (which he really liked) and then just vegged around my house all day. He watched the Macy's parade and some I Love Lucy reruns while I cooked. We tried to make sure he was busy and had no time to dwell on my mom's not being here.

Dinner was good, if I do say so myself. Lots of turkey, meatballs, homemade cranberry sauce, stuffing, and all the other goodies. I even made an apple pie. Dad is on his way home now, thank you Access-A Ride. [He just called. he got picked up by a private car and made it home in record time.] He might cry a little more tonight, but at least his day was good.

Everything is cleaned up, the leftovers are put away. Now, do I mark my test papers, plan some lessons, write the few college recommendations I have left or find some stupid television show to fall asleep in front of? The two guys in the picture have the right idea about how to spend their time.

Dad Knows Best

My dad said "Wear long sleeves. You don't know what you are pulling up." I said, "Don't worry, everything is fine.".

I now have poison ivy.

Moral of the story: You are never too old to listen to your parents.

Second Mother's Day

The second Mother's Day without my mom was much easier than the first one . Last year Mother's Day came less than one week after we buried her. Seeing the fresh soil on the newly dug grave was unbearable. Once again my dad insisted on going to the cemetery and as much as he says I don't have to go with him, I cannot bear the thought of him going alone. The beautiful day helps take away some of the sadness of the place.



Mom's grave. Her unveiling is next week. We came today to scrub the family stone. My dad wanted it nice and clean for her day.

Dad walking to car with his cleaning paraphenalia.
Mom loved these ducks. She used to sit on her patio and Florida and watch them for hours. I'm hoping they are bringing her happiness now.
My father's grandparents graves. No one bothered to pay for perpetual care so we cleaned all the weeds around them today. You can see my dad's shadow as he is saying Kaddish for them.

Sadness

Footsteps in the pristine snow. No one visits the cemetery in February--except my dad.
Mom loved red roses. Dad wanted to bring her some for Valentine's Day.
Dad saying Kaddish by her grave.
Dad walking away, his tears melting the snow in his path.

My Dad

My dad is a bright, successful man. However, my dad was never a good student. In fact, my dad hated school. He attended a vocational school for a while and then left to attend a neighborhood school. Academics was never his specialty. He had the ability but not the interest. In spite of this, he graduated high school, worked, got drafted, served in the army, came home, got married, attended and dropped out of college. Even older, education held no interest for him.

After the army, my dad got a job working for the Veteran's Association. He was not an accountant, but he ran the accounting department. He had many people working directly for him and was very successful. When he needed extra money to buy a car he took a part time job in Macy's. He sold children's shoes there for over 30 years and when he retired, he was earning $20 an hour plus commissions. For an uneducated guy, he did great. He supported a wife and two children and had built up a comfortable retirement fund.

So what brings this story up? NCLB!!!!! This law, along with all the testing would have been the ruination of my dad. He would not have put up with it and probably would never have graduated high school. By allowing him to go to a school where he could develop his own interests, he was able to succeed. Might he have done better had he been forced to learn some of these academic subjects? Maybe. Would he have been happy? Probably not. My guess is that he would have either dropped out or learned enough academics to do minimally well at all the jobs he has held.

My dad was a child of the 30's. Are the children of today all that different? Would we really be hurting them that much if instead of testing and teaching over their heads we taught them what they needed to succeed in life? Would it really hurt to say that it is okay if you can't solve an equation and that it is okay to go in for a career that does not require a college education?

Riches

I'm not rich, but money has never been an issue in my life. I'm lucky, material things never mattered that much and thankfully, I've always been able to get what I needed and wanted.

I grew up in a working class family. We had an apartment in a city project in the Bronx. My dad worked two jobs so my mom could stay home and supervise their children. When the kids got old enough to be on their own a little, my mom started working part time.

We didn't have lots, but we had enough. My mom was an expert at finding bargains. She haunted the sales tables at Alexander's (on Fordham Rd and on Third Ave) and we always had new clothes that looked nice. We had toys. We went out on weekends. My parents knew all the tricks to entertain their kids without breaking the bank. We went to all the museums (free in those days). We went to the zoo and botanical gardens (also free). For real treats, we rode the Staten Island ferry ( only a nickel each way). We took vacations (not big ones). We went out to dinner. We were never deprived of anything.

I grew up with great values, which I thank my parents for. When I got married, I moved to an inexpensive apartment to save money to buy a house. I put no money into fixing up the apartment, since it was going to be temporary. I drove my car until it didn't drive anymore. I finished my master's degree and my plus thirty within three years of graduation and the start of my teaching career to maximize my salary. No one was giving me any money. I knew I had to work for what I wanted.

My husband and I bought a small house in Queens. It's a nice, old house in a great neighborhood but it is not fancy. We bought a house we could afford to pay for on his salary alone, so when the time came to have children, I could stay home with them if I so chose to (I stayed home for four years.)

We always talked about upgrading to a bigger house in a fancier neighborhood, but never did. I'm glad. My husband had a rough job and believe it or not, he was treated worse than many teachers are treated. At 53 years old, I told him to retire. Enough was enough. I could support us until his pension would kick in at age 55. Our income was more than cut in half with this move but, it was okay. We lived well within our means and have managed to save enough to keep living the same way we had always lived. We even bought him a new car as a retirement gift. We took a bunch of vacations (Italy, Eastern Europe, Jamaica, Alaska) and plan to keep on doing this as long as we are both healthy.

I never needed to buy the best. I never needed to buy the most. My vacations don't have to be at five star resorts. My cars don't have to be brand new. I've worked hard, but I've always lived well within my means. My parents taught me well. I think I have done the same with my children. My daughter bought her own house before she was 26 years old. We offered to help but she didn't need it. My son has more than enough money to buy one too, but he just has to decide where he wants to live.

I know things are different now than they were 30 years ago. Money doesn't go as far. But I don't think that people were as materialistic as they are now. I don't remember such emphasis on designer clothing. And, no cell phones sure meant no money on expensive I-phones. I think my parents were grounded enough to help me avoid these money pit items. I'm happy. I'm not rich in money but all my needs are being more than taken care of.

Summer's Over

Summer is over and although I am sad about that, I know my summer was well spent. I saw my dad about twice a week. We didn't do much, but it was good for us to have the time together. He's still sad, but he is getting better. He even consented to have the laser surgery he needed on his eyes for his glaucoma. He's even happy he did it.

Aside from dad, I spent two weeks in Alaska, and had a great time. It was a trip I didn't want to take but I am glad I did. It was so great that I plan on returning. Not next summer, we are thinking of an African safari for then, but soon. I went to lots of museums and spent many days exploring my favorite city--New York. I even managed to spend some quality time with good friends. I saw a few Broadway shows. Tonight's was Curtains with David Hyde Pierce. He was fantastic. I bought tickets to see Jersey Boys on my anniversary (had to break down and pay full price--OUCH!) I saw a few off Broadway shows too. Will Durst, a political humorist, is in The All American Sport of Bipatisan Bashing. Although he picks on everyone, the Republicans, and Bush, get the brunt of his act. This was a great show for a liberal like me.

So, a good summer has come to an end. I hope a good school year is next. If not, retirement, here I come!!!!

Must Be A Generation Thing

My dad won't go out to dinner with a woman, because people might talk, or because she might expect something. "My boyfriend" worries that my husband might not understand when I give him a ride home from shul. I've never had a problem having male friends. We've gone out to dinner or just talked. We've been friends, nothing else. My husband does not care. Their wives, when they are married, do not care either. We are friends, that is all we are. My dad could have a lot more friends if he was not afraid of being friends with a woman. The women he knows are probably just as lonely as he is and would welcome a friend. He shouldn't worry about what people will say. People say to my new boyfriend "she is married." He really has nothing to worry about. There is nothing wrong with me being friends with a man, especially a man 40 years older than me.