HAPPY BIRTHDAY

We celebrated family birthdays on Saturday. My daughters birthday is the day before mine, mine was Saturday, and granddaughter #1 has a birthday this coming Thursday. I got a beautiful sweatshirt and t-shirt from my daughter. She and the granddaughters got me a new bathroom rug. They never liked the one I had. Always felt like it was going to slip with me on it. It was a possibility that I might fall as it had nothing gripping on the back. I still liked the rug, but I guess I should be careful. The grandkids got me a puzzle for our puzzle room.

Many friends sent cards and small gifts. Maria got me a gift certificate from Barnes and Noble. I love books. Liz brought me a plastic chicken with three pieces of homemade fudge. Those were delicious. I also got a chocolate covered marshmallow bunny and another chocolate bunny with crushed nuts inside. None of those things were good for me, but they were sure fun.

Alice bought me a small bag of “Silverdale Seagull Poop.” It has a very nice drawing of a local seagull sitting on a post sticking out of the sea. Some friends of his are flying in the area. With it came a card with bears sitting around a tree stump table drinking coffee with a moose and a jar of jellybeans on the table. The bear making the coffee is called the Bearista. Inside said, “Just wanted to espresso my happiest birthday wishes.” And further day was, “celebrate your birthday with a balance mean…caffeine in one hand and sugar in the other. I still smile about that one. The actual contents were Huckleberry jellybeans.

My other favorite card

came from Gail. “Your birthday is a good time to say, I could never find another friend like you.” And on the inside, “Heck, most of the time I can’t find my cell phone or car keys.” My sentiments exactly!

I had pretty well given up on birthdays a few years back. You do reach a point where it no longer even feels like a milestone. It’s just another day. Once my daughter was born we celebrated her birthday. Mine was just sort of squeezed in. Don’t get me wrong. I wanted it that way. It’s another one of those Hallmark holidays designed to sell cards. OK, it is a little more important than that. But I still feel like it is the best deal for kids. Enough. I don’t want to rile anyone up who loves having birthdays. You can’t stop them. Wait, yes you can, but it is better to let them end on their own.

I cooked Salmon rollups for lunch and bought everyone’s favorite birthday cake from Dairy Queen. Since I got there before my family did, I also hide some plastic candy filled eggs for an egg hunt for the grandkids. They still enjoy those kinds of activities. I love watching them. Guess I have really become a grandpa.

IT WAS FUN

Surprise, surprise, surprise! The egg hunt was a marvelous success. I was never really sure until it began. Attendance was down from our regular potlucks. That didn’t change the quantity of food. There seemed to be enough for everyone to take another plate full home, and several desserts.

I had put up several semi-threatening signs around the grounds requesting people stay off of the downstairs and out of most of the downstairs area from 10-11, and to refrain from using the front doors between 10-12. I expected someone to yell at me for blocking off some areas. I didn’t demand it and didn’t even get at the two who ignored the signs. Anyway, no one yelled. People began arriving about 11:45, brought their food in and waiting anxiously for the egg hunt. When I saw their growing enthusiasm I was shocked, shocked, shocked. Shocked! Did I tell you I was shocked?

I handed out the official, sanctioned Easter baskets (brown paper bags), explained the location where eggs could be found, told them quantity would not make a difference but finding one of the four special eggs was the deal. When I let them go, they were off. Only three stayed back and they had walking difficulties. You could hear excitement, laughter and a general scurrying around.

I told them they could keep the plastic eggs and the candy, but whatever they returned would go to a school. I hide 82 plastic eggs. I don’t know how many they actually found as one of the winning eggs did not come back. I searched for eggs that were not found and only picked us six. However, I never found the one missing winning egg. Three winning eggs were returned. I gave matted prints of their choice of my drawing to places two and three and a framed print of the one that is the most popular of my prints – at least around here. It happens to be one of my favorites as well.

The biggest surprise was the candy in only nine eggs was returned. They kept the candy. I found another six. I think since there is so little I will take the eggs and hide them for my grandkids on Saturday. Not much candy was returned.

After everyone had overstuffed his or her selves a resident came to say this was the most fun he had had since being here. There was a genuine sense of camaraderie. He mentioned that while it was a smaller group, people were warmer and much more friendly that usual. When they returned to their tables they talked about the search and where they found eggs. They compared finds. They laughed and talked to people they usually ignore. All of this was a wonderful side benefit that was unexpected. Another lady told me she felt like a kid again and had a wonderful time.

This is all I had ever hoped for. People pulling together and having fun. I’ve been working at this for nearly two years and this is the first real evidence that it happened. This is not the event I expected would pull us together. I am thrilled.

IT"S SPRING TODAY

Today is the first day it both looked like and felt like spring. Yesterday it looked like it, but it was cold (I say that with a burrrr in my voice). In fact there was rain, hail and even snow all around us. We never saw it but we felt it.

Went to my doctor today and explained that I am doing almost every thing right and cannot lose a single pound. So he finally confessed that some of my medication may be adding weight. So I am not just fighting my own stupidity, but my prescriptions as well. Go figure! I also argued that I no longer need pills for depression and wanted to be weaned off. So we went into why.

I was put on the pills when my wife died, then had the quantity upped when my son died. A couple years later I tried to get off those things and the stress of work caused me to get back on them. Well work went from bad to worse and now I have been on them 19 years. Yuck. I forgot I was still taking them. Since moving near my family my stress has gone way down. It doesn’t matter that I receive the least amount I have ever received – yes even than my first years of work. It doesn’t matter that some health problems have increased. Neither of those bothers me. I love life. So asked to get rid of those pills. The process has begun. Good! At least one more pill I can eliminate.

It’s Easter around here tomorrow. At least we are having our Easter lunch and Egg hunt. No enthusiasm seems to be developing for the egg hunt so I offered four prizes valued from $10 to $100. That is a little iffy. They are prints of some of my paintings. I have never sold a print near the $100 range to a friend, but it could be worth that much. Does that count? The low-end prizes are unframed prints. I don’t know if prizes will help or not, but it may increase my self worth just saying they are worth that much.

I don’t remember if I told you that I have developed a minor shake in my left hand. That’s a problem as I am left-handed. I am almost fearful to try to draw in case my hand shakes too much. I would rather think I could draw anytime I wanted, rather than learn I am too shaky to draw. It’s an illusion. Oh well. I must test it soon. I have been asked to be in a summer art show and I need new things. I know what I want to do; I just need to get started. Maybe next weekend.

PUBLIC SPEAKING

We got a letter today from the Counseling Center for Serious and Obnoxious Behavior Resolution or whatever it’s called. They want another meeting March 31. I visited Chas today to try and talk him out of going. He said he didn’t want to go, but he is very curious about what might be said and he is very spontaneous. Gail had already told him she is not going. I told him that I do not want to go but I will not let him go in there without someone on his side. He has said he will not go, but I will probably only know for sure a few minutes before the meeting.

At church yesterday, the pastor of the little church I attend asked me preach sometime in the future. I like the word” sometime.” It’s not specific. It has no permanence. It’s unconfirmed and noncommittal even if I say yes.

I haven’t preached in over ten years. I’m not even sure I like the word preach. I know when women speak from the pulpit in church they often “share,” but must a man preach? Weird. Actually — I kind of like the idea! I sort of want to know if I could do it again. I have my doubts, but limited fear. I suppose I’m too stupid to be frightened. Besides I was never nervous or even concerned about speaking until was time to do it. Saying yea to something months in advance is no big deal. But of course, judgment day must come.

It is easy to think it is just a small group, but I attend the smallest of three services and that one is nearly half empty. The building only holds about 120 so none cane be huge. My first church was around 600 and I was a lousy, unconfident, and C average in speech class speaker. I tend not to display signs of fear, but my insides were a mess. When it came time to walk to the pulpit I felt like I would fall when I stood and my mouth was dry. I had seen the senior pastor take a drink from a glass placed under the pulpit most Sundays. When I reached for the glass my hands were trembling so bad I grabbed the glass with both hands and said let us pray. I thought at least the congregation wouldn’t see how bad I was shaking. But the back of the church was a glass wall diving it from the auditorium and none of the ushers closed their eyes. They saw what I was dong and laughed their fool heads off. That helped. I felt like I had nothing to lose after that. And by the way I did pray. I prayed for calmness and control. At least my voice didn’t tremble. At least I don’t think it did. I talked, but sis I say anything? Humm?

LOUNGES IN PICTURES part 3

To the left of the entrance to our building is the first floor lounge. That is a very ordinary name for a room that deserves a more uppity name. It feels more like a turn of the century “parlor” or a sitting room. It feels formal enough that about the only thing that ever happens there is sitting or picking up the mail. As you can see, the mailboxes are there as well. Some do sit and go through their mail, but it could be called the waiting room as many wait there for the bus or a ride to come. You can see everything and stay warm and dry in cooler weather. Occasionally a few will sit there and have a conversation.

Back to the entrance there are stairs next to the elevator. They empty into the upstairs lounge. But this place deserves to be called the party room. Picture three is taken from the corner of the room to the right of the elevator. I am standing in front of the entrance to the laundry looking across the room. I would have taken a photo of the laundry but it is tiny and had 2 washers and 2 dryers and a shelf to sort or fold clothes. Since it can be a stuffy little place, for stay there very long. To the right are the puzzle table and a large TV. There are occasional groups who sit and watch, but it is used mostly when people wait for their laundry to finish. If I can talk anyone to staying up or getting up we may use it to attend Prince William and Kate Middleton’s wedding. It begins at 3:00 am on April 29 so attendance may be low.

In the opposite corner is the games table. Presently a group gathers nearly every day to play dominos. But it is also used for cards, pizza parties, and a place to leave fresh baked cookies, cakes, pies and other wonderful but terribly fattening snacks.

AX MEN

Saturday morning I awoke to a show going on right outside my window. Of course, I didn’t know it. After getting myself together I went to make coffee and breakfast, so I was hanging out in the kitchen. After everything was ready I sat down and then my phone rang. It was Gail, my upstairs neighbor. I knew you were up, I heard you toilet flush and gave you a few minutes before calling. Did you see what is going on outside your window? Since she is directly overhead I checked out the south window. Is that Rocky? Rocky is our maintenance man.

I could not see very well as it was raining and my windows were running with water. Well, the windows weren’t actually running, water was running down my windows. Clear? Across the street is a clump of three tress 4-5 stories high. One was dead and a guy was near the top taking the braches off. Is that Rocky?

First, I could hardly see through my windows. Second, my eyes were still not focusing that well yet. Third, I didn’t know. It sort of looked like him, but there were branches from the other trees blocking my view. I think it is, she said. We both knew he had a side job removing trees, so it was possible. It wasn’t on The Home’s property. It was across the street on the edge of a strip mall’s property. I gave up trying to figure it out, but I had my blinds pulled all the way up so I could watch while I ate my cooling breakfast. As you probably know, it is best to eat eggs as soon as they are cooked as they cool off quickly.

When finished, I put a few more clothes on and walked outside. It was Rocky. He had already waved our way. By that time, he was up about 3 stories tying off the tree above him. He then cut below the rope and the top of the tree dropped straight down on the rope. It did not hit the ground. It was fun to watch.

I have lived next to a camp in Oregon that seemed to lose trees during every windstorm. I had often seen trees taken down. There was an older man at the camp that was an expert. He had the ability to cut a tree from the ground and drop it exactly where he wanted it. I once saw him remove the limbs of a tree and then cut it from the ground and drop it between to cabins about ten feet apart and hit neither one. I thought Rocky might do the same, but he took it down in sections. There were too many cars in the parking lot. He had no choice. At least I didn’t turn the TV on until he was done.

Today I was up stairs puzzling and some were talking about the removal of the tree. Maria said she watched the whole thing. Maybe! She lives on the other side of the building so would not have automatically heard or seen the action until the sawing began. Gail mentioned that it was fun watching him take the tree drown with a rope. He didn’t use a rope, Maria said. What? Everyone in that group saw it and argued with her immediately, but she never gave in. One lady said, you weren’t watching the same scene I was watching. Maria said, they never use ropes to take trees down. I watch Ax Men. Well, she must have been watching Ax Men that day. Rocky used ropes.

Without Maria and her comments most days would be pretty ordinary. I’m glad she’s here. I might have very little to write other wise. Oh yeah. There is the big Chas and Olivia issue, but that’s not really fun.

LET THERE BE PEACE

The weekends are often rather uneventful. It’s usually my own fault — I stay in my room. I clean things up, sleep a little extra and read — mostly. Today I spent time on a picky little job. I am grateful for the food and other items one can get at the food bank, but sometimes the hygiene bags, which are grab bags – no peaking, just picking – are a mixed bag. They try to provide shampoo, conditioner and toothpaste every time. It’s great I love to get whatever I can. All large bottles are only half full. They divide the contents for two people. But the tiny little travel bottles do get annoying. So today I emptied all those little bottles into large bottles and ended up throwing away a half a brown grocery bag full of empties. I had not more room in my storage space.

But tonight, Gail came to update me on the Maria situation. She said Maria is ignoring us. Could be. It has been so peaceful I hadn’t really noticed. This issue goes back to a few weeks ago when Kiki asked Lulu to cook a turkey she had. Maria tends to think of Kiki as her personal property. She orders her around and tells her what to do, when to do it and how to do it. She frequently calls her stupid, ignorant, idiot and other such endearing names. This time and for the first time, Kiki has stayed away from Maria. Maria already has little to do with me, Gail and Chas. Alice stays out of her way and has done so for a very long time. She played cards with her in the past but got tired of Maria’s attitude. When she lost all these people, three who had cars, she turned to Lulu to take her places.

She talked Lulu into taking her to 7-11 for their grand opening and the free hot dogs. Lulu had another errand she needed to run and it was agreed that would be all right. So Maria, Kiki and Lulu were off to 7-11. Maria directed Lulu all the way. I may be helpful to know that 7-11 is 8 blocks from here with one turn. She treated Lulu like she knew nothing. Lulu has lived in this area all her life.

They got their hotdogs and Maria wanted to know where they would eat. Lulu suggested the car. There is no place to sit inside 7-11 and the car wasn’t acceptable. They left the 7-11 parking lot without a clear decision. Lulu planned to head to her next errand. But the directions began to fly. Turn left. Lulu turned right without comment. There is no left turn coming out of the 7-11 parking lot. She was directed to cut through the banks lot to get back on track. Lulu turned the opposite way. Corrective instructions continued. Finally Lulu simply brought them back to the Home. They were not happy, but Lulu let Maria know she would never offer her a ride again. She was demanding, controlling and mean to Kiki. I am assuming that did not sit well

There is only one driver left in our building that will take her, a new lady without history. The rest of us are being boycotted. No one is disappointed in the least. Maria has also taken up with one from the other building who has a car. She has also hooked up again with Olivia. So she now hates Chas. It’s not that Chas has done anything to Maria, but one way to find friends is to dislike the same people. As long as you have common enemy’s life is good.

I don’t know what to do. I only have friends. I have no enemies. What a dilemma

ARE YOU MY GIRLFRIEND?

Gail and I were sitting in the upstairs lounge picking away at a new puzzle. She likes doing the edge and I like working on a big splash of a single color, red this time. We were talking about where in the area it was snowing. There was a warning of snow all over our area but it was still dry here. That’s what happens when you are almost at sea level. We both have daughters and their families living in the foothills of the Olympic Mountains. We wondered if they had snow yet. They always get it when we don’t.

We were interrupted when Clint came and ask if we knew if Sylvia was his girlfriend. We nearly choked to death in an attempt to keep from laughing. Clint is different and I really don’t want to mock him. He has difficulty understanding and cannot interpret meaning when it comes to women. While he will tell you he has had a lot of girlfriends, his interpretation of that phrase is any girl who looks at him. He thinks the cleaning lady the agency sent over is one of his girlfriends. I doubt she know that.

He is nice enough, lives in his own world, but is very anxious for female companionship. He is in his 50’s but has never had that experience.

He knew enough to know that we would not be able to tell him how Sylvia felt so asked where she was. With some fear we told him she was down the hall, last room on the right.
Go and asked, Gail said. Can I? Sure! That way you will know for sure. Sylvia is a strong woman and not easily intimidated and we were sure she could handle the question. He went and knocked. She answered and he asked, are you my girlfriend? No Clint, I’m not. He turned and walked away without further adieu.

He returned and sat back down near the puzzle table. He asked Gail her name. She hesitated and I knew she didn’t want to say. So I said, her name is George and she is my girlfriend. Oh! Gail picked up the clue and said, please excuse me. I must go make our supper now. She left, Clint then said she’s nice! Yes she is. But she is my girl so leave her alone. OK! Then he wandered off.

In just a few minutes Sylvia came down the hall laughing which encouraged the rest of us to laugh. Do you know what Clint did? Yes, we sent him down to ask the question? What did you do to encourage him? I was just trying to be nice to him. Very few people talk to him so I was just trying to be nice. That will teach you. Stop the niceness.

We left her with the assurance that we will happily tell everyone we see about her new relationship with Clint. She laughed. It will get around, won’t it? You betcha!

LOST WORK

It’s been a few days since I wrote. The bad news is that I had a few rough days physically and barely left my room. As a result, I didn’t talk to anyone over the long weekend so do not know what is going on. Well, I don’t know much.

I was back at it and had a great walk to the park this morning only to return and watch the heavy hail that arrived 30 minutes later. It got dark and gloomy. Had to open my blinds fully just to get enough light in my place. When my walking group left about 10:30 the sun was shining and the wind was still. Now they are warning us about a major snowstorm headed our way over night. Since we are only about 20’ above sea level and in some sort of low spot — but we could be missed all together. I will never figure out the weather patterns on the coast.

I broke my own heart today. The March newsletter is due at the head office by the end of the day Wednesday. No problem. There wasn’t much to do to finish it up. I just needed to finish a profile article on my next-door neighbor. I wanted to add a cartoon to the front page as well. I found what I wanted, cleaned it up and pasted it on the front. As I usually have to do, I retyped the caption so the words would be large enough to read. When I was finished I needed to make lunch so I would be ready for my Bible study group at 1:00. I closed the newssheet and then closed the cartoon. At the time, I thought I was closing the newssheet and it asked if I wanted to replace the old one. I said yes and it closed. As soon as I did it I realized I had replaced the entire newssheet with a cartoon. I lost it all. Since I work on the paper from the beginning of the month, I am not exactly sure of what I lost. So instead of eating I started over with what I remembered.

I knew there were four announcements. I could remember three. Not too bad. There were three files expanding on calendar dates. I knew all of those and there was a cartoon. I still had that on file. Column three was the first thing I did at the beginning of the month. It was jokes about proofreading. Everyone knows that is one of my many weaknesses. I have no idea where I found it or where to find it. I will have to find something new for that column.

Also, I decided I didn’t like the cartoon chosen for the cover. I have a lot to do tomorrow.

There was a day when I loved these rush deadlines. I admit to loving the pressure, the need for instant creativity, and the satisfaction of meeting the deadline. I usually have a month for my one creative project and this is the first time I feel the old adrenalin rush to meet a deadline. It’s fun. I don’t want it all the time, but knowing I have no time to waste is a kick.

I know that sounds strange. But for years I really enjoyed working 60+ hours a week with deadline upon deadline. Not everything was to the standard I liked, But I loved that something had to be done by —. I don’t miss those days at all, but I remember them fondly.

HAIR

Women get their hair done everyday. While at coffee this morning one left near the beginning to walk across the street to get the do. Shortly there after another returned with her hair done. When these women returned there were plenty of sweet and kind comments about how nice it looked, how beautiful!

I got my hair cut on Wednesday. It was cut to close on the upper sides. I generally wear my hair combed back and swept to the left. This is a far cry from my youth years when I changed my hairstyle more often than my underwear. That was one of the joys of having very think hair that would do just about anything. I had all the specialties cuts of the day. I don’t remember them all but some of my favorites were a crew cut, flattop, ducktails, and a college cut. Loved the ducktails. The college cut made me look like a professional. Professional what, I don’t know.

With my hair short on the sides and near the top, both sides stuck out like the pinfeathers of a freshly plucked chicken. I wore it that way yesterday and it looked like I just crawled out of bed. So today I combed it all forward and waxed a few strands straight up on the crown. If I could have added a few bold freckles I would have looked like Alfalfa from the Our Gang series of short films from the 30’s and 40’s. Do I get compliments? No. What happened to your hair? I changed the style? Why? You look like that kid from the movies. Alfalfa? Yea, him! That was the look I was going for. It looks weird. But you thought her new look was nice. Why isn’t mine nice? You’re kidding, right? It makes you look like a kid. That should be a good thing. Naw — it’s not. You’re old. I know. Don’t remind me. At least I still have most of my hair. Wish it were white, but it's just salt and pepper.

I guess that’s it for my hair acceptance. If I go back to the old style it will slick out on the sides. It’s just too short to do anything with it. Tomorrow is Saturday. I won’t comb it at all. I most likely won’t even leave my apartment. My place needs to be cleaned up anyway. I haven’t figure out what I will do on Sunday. I may just put a lot of gooey, sticky, stiff stuff in it and pull it up in funky little spikes. Its all the rage with the under 20 crowd and it looks more mature than the Alfalfa look. But Monday, I’m going to comb it all forward and grease it straight up in the front for the Beaver look. Actually, I liked Wally better. Didn’t care much for the Beav. He was weird. I wanted Wally to be my brother. He was cool.

TYPICAL COFFEE TALK

I figure it is time to get real. If you have followed my blog for a while you need to know that life at The Home if more than gossip and infighting. It is certainly more than my moments of inspiration to wax wise about some philosophical thing. I confess, some are written to fill space as nothing exciting happened. But here comes the truth.

On a typical non-gossipy and non-fighting morning there is a routine that precedes the interesting talk. There are typically 3-5 arriving for coffee from my building to the commons room (dining room) of the larger building. The general conversation begins the same with each of us. Its cold out there! You see in general conversation it is always best to start with the weather and as of late it has been cold here. Since a small group from that building is already present, they will hear this conversation 3-5 times. They may even finish the comment. Then there are times when each new arrival will be egged on to repeat what everyone already knows. Someone will probably say, how’s the weather out there? Needless to say, this goes on longer than necessary. Two of the women who come will comment on how cold it is out there until temperatures reach the 80’s.

When the sun comes out there is great discussion about what it is, where it came from, should we report the bright light in the sky or should we hid. Someone will say it is the sun and others will ask what that is. It’s an important part of old people humor. We always laugh (but it is getting harder). Wind is also a discussion point and lately we have talked about snow. We get our news from the other side of the largest inlet. They have been warning of snow all week. So we talk about whether we will get snow. We have had snow, but it is exceedingly rare. We are about five feet above sea level. The other side is mostly hills and mountains.

Weather talk moves on to water. You see, there is a body of water across the street in clear view of our commons room. We are at the end of a large inlet. Its ocean water that comes from a larger inlet and that from one even larger and finally from the largest inlet that gets its water from the Pacific Ocean (have you got it yet-get a map and you might be able to find me). The talk initially centers on the smoothness of the water or the height of the waves. It may include whether the tide is in or out. From there we talk about the quantity of the ducks and whether they are local or just visiting during their migration one way or the other. Any stranger in the water is noted and discussed endlessly. Finally one asks if anyone has seen our eagle. He lives in the giant evergreen across the street and you can see him fishing from time to time.

Conversations then switch to the empty lot next to us. Usually it is about the squirrels running the fence or looking for food. In the summer the lot will be filled with blackberries. It should be a good crop this summer since the owner chopped them all down to the ground at then end of this past season — a county legal enforcement.

One time we watched a mama raccoon and two babies playing right at the fence. The area where they had their home had been cleared away so they were off to find a new place but were having one last romp before departing. They were a kick. We talked about them for weeks.

At the fence line is a Charlie Brown Christmas tree. Its root is right under the chain link fence. When it is windy the tree is nearly flat to the ground. It stands straighter on calm and patriotic days. Many have talked about “we should tie it up” but no one does it. Volunteers you know. There are none. Someone else should do it. I don’t have string so don’t ask me.

The last normal items are health reports. Some residents are asked about and new illnesses are reported and then there is a round of personal health reports. Of those gathered I have had the worst time lately so the focus has been on me. I can hardly wait for that to end. I’m fine. Yes I’m really fine. Yes I would tell you if I wasn’t. Yes, I’m wearing my ankle brace. Yes, I’m taking my medicine. Yes, I avoid salt (I just finished my bacon today). Yes I’m losing weight (I doubt anyone can really notice but I did wear a larger sweatshirt today). No, no, I am really OK. I see the doctor again today. They will eventually check up on the habits and practices of all that are present. The mother doctors are in full attack mode. Since I am a helpless man who cannot take care of himself I really need their help. Lord, deliver me.

HIGH COUNCIL

I went to a pre-counseling session yesterday with the goal to be part of a team that moderates a healing between Olivia and Chas. I was nervous as soon as I saw the group and had limited expectation of anything of significance being accomplished.

I have never been a fan of this approach to problem solving. While the members present have all listened to one or the other central member, it is safe to say we all have a bias against one the other.

We were informed that each additional meeting of the group would grow. The two professional coordinators of this conflict resolution group were present. One did all the talking and the other all the note taking. In addition, Olivia and Chas each invited two people.

The content of the meeting will use a Rogerian approach. Carl Rogers is considered the father of "client-centered therapy," Rogers has said that the counselor is to be "nondirective" in the sessions--his job is to reflect the counselee's responses back to him and, thus, set up a catalytic atmosphere of acceptance. Such an environment is supposed to allow the client to get in touch with the innate resources within him for successfully dealing with life and developing self-esteem.

This approach takes forever and accomplishes very little (in my humble opinion). It works this way: I can’t stand Olivia touching my things. Do I hear you saying you can’t stand Olivia touching your things? You bet your sweet bibby (old Laugh-in comment not actually said).

We had barely got through introductions when Karen launched into her fear and ager with Chas. Gertrude joined the condemnation round and the counselor let is go on for 45 minutes. Gail tried to interrupt a couple of times with some degree of success. I listened, fascinated by the anger. I saw no way this group would facilitate a healing when two of them could see no fault on the part of Olivia.

The counselor finally turned to me and asked what I was thinking. With reluctance I reiterated why I believed we were here and went back to the straw that broke the camels back.

One afternoon Chas was sitting by the fireplace drinking coffee and eating a role. He left to help clean up a bit in the kitchen. In doing so, he left an empty paper plate. A few moments later Olivia was bringing his empty place to the garbage. Chas was coming out of the kitchen, saw was she was doing and asked if that was his plate. It was, she said and he attacked her demanding that she never touch his things.

Here’s what none of us know for sure. What was Olivia’s motivation? Was she being helpful, or was she angry and hoped to annoy him. Her defendants believe she was being helpful. I hope that was her motivation, but past experience says she might have been trying to annoy him. But I do not know for sure any more than they do. We do not know who spoke first – Olivia or Chas. We do not know specifically what she said. We do know that neither likes the other and I would not put it past either one for wanting to start a fight.

Karen and Gertie could not believe Olivia would ever do that, so Gail and I regaled them with a list of the old antics she has done in our building and her denial only later to admit she was the guilty one. Frankly they are both guilty.

When asked did we want to continue with future meetings, I hesitated. I believe the session could turn into a bash Chas hate fest. He has changed. Few see it or believe it. I do not believe he has the emotional capacity to cope with a couple hours of condemnation and attacks.

This led to another 35 minutes of what would be accomplished and everyone agreed this would not be a bash Chas session. I still do not believe that as the group will grow by four more people and another four will be included at the following session.

I could not believe that. Every time new people are added, old ground needs to be covered. I was assured this works and he has years of experience to support that. I still have doubts but I will go to the meetings to help prevent the stabbing of Caesar by Brutus and others of the senate. I suspect several will exit with blood on their hands, but I will try to at least keep him alive.

FREEDOM

Were you watching the protests in Egypt? It kind of reminded me of the USA of the 60’s. Make love, not war. Get out of Vietnam. These are different revolutions but similar in that that they are primarily youth led. Several news reports credited the end of Murbarak’s government to the social network on the Internet. That is a youth medium.

Today there are reports of protests and other conflicts throughout the Middle East. Headlines read like a follow up to the government overthrow in Egypt:
Egypt echoes across region: Iran, Bahrain, Yemen
Police disperse Iranian protesters with tear gas
Syria sentences teen blogger to 5 years in jail
Israeli PM: Arab world undergoing 'earthquake'
Clashes in Bahrain before planned protest rally
Palestinian Authority Cabinet resigns
One dead as Iran protesters clash with police
Rocks and batons fly as Yemen protests erupt
Iran police fire tear gas at protesters
Iraqis target leaders in Valentine protest
Clashes in Algeria as opposition plans new protest

Certainly conflict is in the air. Middle Easterners want more than they have. It may not be democracy as we know it, but they want a say in things that affect their lives.

Pretty much we are all like that. We struggle with being told what to do, how to do it and when to do it. We know taxes are necessary, but that doesn’t mean we have to like it. We would most likely be more tolerant if we believed “our” money was being wisely handled in their hands. But basically we do not trust our elected leaders.

The natives are up in arms at The Home as well. Head office is trying to resolve conflicts, but is coming down with judgments like Judge Judy, but they will not hear the case like Judge Judy. They listen to part of a story — and decide. They appear to decide based on their feelings about one resident over another. Talk is growing.

No one here is likely to burn draft cards (where are they anyway) or burn their bras. They won’t march on head office, or even consider a sit in unless there are enough chairs for everyone. Once we get on the floor it takes a tow truck to get us up. We will not even attack via the Internet or try to get 10 million grey heads to march on Washington. We write letters and stir the pot with angry talk. We try to get more people agitated to make our numbers grow. Then we wait patiently for the next meeting and verbally attack from all directions. It does disorient leadership. When they leave, we have more fuel to throw on the fire of community unrest.
The difference with people at The Home is that our rebellion will not go past talk. No energy. Too tired. Can’t see very well at night.

I want what our government leaders have in abundance. I want an intern. I want a housekeeping intern that works for free. Now that would be real freedom.

MEDICAL GUIDANCE

I don’t know why I’ve spent so much money on doctors since retirement. It seems that doctors and nurses surround me. I had no idea so many of my fellow residents had medical backgrounds. They must have. They have significant advice for my current doctor and me as to what should be done during my heart recovery. If they do not come from medical backgrounds they are at least over protective, smothering mothers who are sure they know best. It doesn’t seem to matter that even in a group situation they give conflicting advice. They argue that my doctor is not giving me the right information or treating me correctly.

One provided me with a hand written schedule of when and how much Warfarin I should take daily. I seems that only one of my council thinks I should follow the advice of my doctor. I have been handed a great deal of literature to add to the already significant pile of doctor provided literature. I enjoy reading, but prefer a linear story to pages and pages of facts, graphs, charts, warnings, directions and general boring material. It may be important, but it is dull.

Multiple times a day I am asked how I am. If I say fine, their response is, no, I mean HOW are you? The word how is emphasized so I will know they really care and are really concerned. I have never doubted that they care, but if they are going to help me, I want them to form a committee and have one person come and present it to me. Maybe they could then agree.

It’s good to know I am cared for. I only get a reprieve from the care by not coming out of my apartment, but I only remain in when I don’t feel well. Hiding doesn’t really help. Some come to the door.

I listen, smile and ignore their input. I take the literature they hand me and nod earnestly as they share their knowledge or lack thereof. I know they mean well and most believe they are the only one trying to help me. Only one has brought me food. I love her for that. Another tells me to ignore them all. I take her suggestion. No men have made any comments except that they are glad to see I’m back. That’s good enough.

I began “Walker’s Beginning Walkers” this morning. It’s a small group of previous non-walkers. We all know we should be walking so we’ve teamed up to push one another along. Three of us formed the group. Only two make the walk to the park today. It felt good to get out. I realize there is no real excuse, but I claim exhaustion. Of course I can claim anything I want, but eating right alone is not good enough. I must move.

I wish all this love and care moved me to my feet and encouraged me to want to walk. Like they say, better now than never.

CHANGE IS AFLOAT

I was reading an Internet article about the “boomers” beginning to enter their senior years. I missed the “boomer” designation by four years. I’m just too old I guess. The article was discussing how marketing is changings to appeal to this new class of wealthy oldsters. We are told they don’t want to be called or perceived to be old. Good luck. If you don’t want to be called a “senior,” what is acceptable? I’ve been thinking about this. I guess they are against the word old, aged, antique, or way, way over the hill. Maybe we should coral an old word and simply change the meaning. As a youngster I remember the word gay meaning joy. That has changed.

Maybe we could be called youngsters. We can make the kids give it up. After all, we put that word on them. It wasn’t their choice. Maybe they don’t even like to be called young. Many say: “I’m not little, I’m big.” I’ll give them the word big, OK; you struggle with old people being called with any variation of the word young. How about, “Executives” A little professional, but it indicates being in charge. We could add Chief Executive for even more power. Too business oriented? I like “The wise one.” I worked a long time to gain some wisdom, and a little recognition would be nice. As a group we would be called “Wise Guys.”

Frankly, I find it quite nice to be considered a senior. Some pressures and expectations are less and discounts are more prevalent. I admit that getting old does make you an idiot to younger generations. While I’m actually smarter, wiser, and gentler (hard to believe), I can live with being considered stupid, if means I am asked to do very little. I don’t mind being left out of the loop. I have been in the middle of more loops than I ever enjoyed. It is nice to see someone else getting trapped and NOT ME. Besides I now have the privilege of complaining about their choices and saying that these youngun’s don’t know nothin’.

While I’m comfortable in my own skin and know I am old, there are some good things the boomers are bringing our way. The print on packaging it getting bigger, as is the color contrast and lighting. Being able to see and read is a good thing. Nine-point type is the absolute smallest print and even it is too small when it is not black on white. The typeface is also important. Make it a serif style.

Being a movie addict I am thrilled about the cry of some against 3-D movies. They are too hard to see. It was my nine year old grandson who pointed out that large sections of Avatar were not in 3-D. Aha, it’s just a new gimmick to get me to pay more for an already over priced film. They can’t fool me.

Coming changes are adult diapers that look more like underwear. Tyco is making “Companion Services,” not medical supplies. How do you look that up on the Internet?

The biggest change of the boomer generation is that they are spending their wealth and not leaving it to the next generation. I know I’m doing that. I spend my entire monthly income before the month runs out, In fact, by the seventh of the month I already know what I have left. It was 4.82 late month, and I’m keeping that for my use. I know I’m selfish. I know it’s all about me. Wait! I’m not a boomer, I’m a poor old man from the “Greatest Generation.” I may have nothing, but I am “The Greatest.”

TEDDY BEAR

I have never thought of myself as a Teddy Bear. If I have to pick a commercial icon I would choose the Pillsbury Dough Boy. It has never been my goal to look like him, but I certainly have his shape. I do get called soft (if I worked out maybe I could change that), cuddly (huh!), sweetie (no one has licked me yet), and darling (with the Billy Crystal – Fernando Llamas accent).

I know some of these women are hungry for physical touch. One, who is old enough to be my mother, has told me what she wants and I cannot repeat it in writing. I have never been that bold with a woman. If I am seated she will come and hug my neck and if she can work it in, a kiss on the cheek. I like my mother figure and have never resisted, but she gets bolder every time.

There is another who sneaks up on me and kisses my cheek before I even know she is there. She also whispers in my ear. With my recent heart problems she is more aggressive and does it with compassion and sympathy. Right.

Two others often approach from the side and give me the old side hug and a squeeze. So far they have avoided my rear end and my lips. Whew! Four or five others pat me on my shoulder or back. I guess losing 1½ inch in height makes me easier to reach.

I have never fought any off or even offered to arm wrestle any of them. I suppose that means I have opened the door to all the physical contact. Maybe I have, but I like most of it. What I don’t like is being considered someone’s squishy little teddy bear.

I have considered ways to get around some of this. I have been trying to find a pair of shoulder pads at a thrift store and maybe a helmet with a facemask. Someone told me you can buy a fake tush. I think it is suppose to make it stick out so you are more attractive. I can’t possible see how that would work. My stomach would push out the front and my rear end would pop the other direction. Just the thought seems unattractive. Am I missing something?

I’m finally losing some of my hair. I still have lots, but it is thinning and a few like to touch it or run their fingers through what is left. I now have a small wart growing on my forehead and they often bump it with their fingers when galloping through the moss and they hit it. I laugh. That will teach them. What is that? Cancer. You have cancel? Poor baby. That comment is a mistake it only brings more sympathy and more touching — a hug and kiss on the cheek. I must think of something contagious to call it. Maybe I'll call it a land mine.

I think I am supposed to be pleased by all the attention, and to a degree I am. But when they line up I am embarrassed and afraid the line might get longer. Admittedly some are discussed by the habits of their friends and would not touch me with a life ring from a sinking boat (win some and lose some).

As for me it would surely help if I weren’t so darn cute and cuddly. I told my daughter that I used to be good looking. Maybe it’s coming back after all these years.

A NEW TV

Hurry hurry! Rush, rush! Not that way. Put it over here. Turn is more to the right. Here let me do it. That’s not right. Here, I’ll show you.

It was just a typical day working with Maria on a project. Someone placed a free TV on the table by the mailboxes. It looks to be a 25” GE – almost a flat screen except the big old tube pushes out the back. I guess that’s not technically a flat screen except that the screen is flat. What do you call a flat screen TV with a tube?

Anyway, she recruited Gail to help her bring it up. She planned to carry it, but Gail suggested they use the cart. Good idea, but it seemed to delay progress. The old one was removed in the upstairs lounge to make way for the newer one. It was set on the previous TV stand and the directions began. Instead of doing it herself, she directed Gail to place it properly. Gail does not have the skills to set it just right, I guess. At least the directions kept coming. Others joined the action and some took over to receive more directions. It was finally placed to her satisfaction and then they needed to plug it in and attach the cable. To do that the TV had to be moved. Gail only mentioned that three times.

When replacements arrived, Gail backed out of the working circle. She was done. When everything was returned to the proper place, Dave turned it on and tried to set it up. The real problems began here. He was not able to get it receive channels. It would not leave the set up screens. If you think there were a lot of directions just to place the TV, you should have heard these directions. It was exhausting and annoying — to everyone but Maria. Several tried to get it set up with no success and no peace and quiet to think. Finally it was “Do it yourself.” I can’t believe it lasted as long as it did.

She tried and tried and tried refusing to give up — but she did. It failed, her helpers failed, she failed. Now what to do? I was getting my laundry going and staying completely out of the way. I mentioned to Gail I could look the info up on the net and maybe figure out how to fix it.

In the meantime back at the ranch, the one who gave up that TV because she got a newer one, came out of her cabin to see what was going on. The horrible, terrible, unsolvable situation was explained. The previous owner chuckled turned the TV on and with a few simple clicks had the TV up and running. Nice picture, easy channel change even with no the remote.

Maria called for a Super Bowl party now that we had a good TV upstairs, but no one came.

AND THE WHEEL GOES ROUND AND ROUND

On Friday a group was being taken by The Home’s van to a large market in another town. This store carries a wide range of products not found in most grocery stores. It’s a little more expensive, but the uniqueness excels.

The morning actually got off to a rather awkward start. The departure was to be at 10:30. The van did not show up. After a great deal of guesstimation one people made a phone call and another walked to the office to find out what happened. As it turned out the lady in charge had not been in the office all week. Her father passed away on Monday.

Everyone at the office knew she was gone, but no one was watching our schedule and clearly did not know that any trip was planned at The Home. While they were trying to sort things out and see if they could find another van driver, Maria and Chas got into it.

Maria came to visit yesterday and present her side of the story. Her anger and animosity toward Chas has been growing. When that happens it takes very little to set her off. The conflict was over a piece of information. We have one lady in hospice now and the word was that another one was going. Chas had heard that Grace was to be transferred to hospice. She has an aggressive form of cancer and it is taking over. He made the statement that she would be going soon. Maria’s tactful and gentle response was, that’s a lie. You don’t know what you are talking about.

It takes very little imagination to guess how Chas responded. He blew up right back. They argued. Maria said Grace was not going to hospice, Chas said he was told she was. Technically they may have both been right. She may not be going and Chas may have been told she was.. I didn’t know that was something worth fighting over.

Rocky was given permission to drive the group to the market. The trip was made without incident.

So Maria is bad mouthing Chas and Chas says he doesn’t understand why it was such a big deal. Maybe it was big because some people just want to fight and have no idea how to remain calm. Gail came down today to tell me what she understood about this argument and is worried that Maria is taking sides with Olivia and may end up being part of our restitution group. I share her concern since I believe the focus will become Maria. Another woman has said she has had it with Maria and will not take her in her car anymore. That list continues to grow. Many make the statement weeks before they actually stop.

While with me yesterday Maria told me she has the same illnesses I have. She recommended garlic salt as a replacement for salt. At the Market she ordered a large salad loaded with Vitamin K. She loves her fried food. I’m not going to say she’s wrong, but my doctors gave me completely different advice. Go figure.

BASED ON ACTUAL EVENTS

We were shown a great film in my Psychology 101 class where a man and woman were stilling at a bar discussing office concerns over drinks. I cannot remember anything about their words — it was a hundred years ago or so — but their intent is still clear in my mind. Their flirtatious facial moves and roaming hands over one another’s bodies were perfectly clear. They wanted to “merge” their two companies back to someone apartment or a nearby motel.

Now there is a study reflecting on the inconsistencies of memory. Most have heard that police are very suspicious when all witnesses tell the same story. But is our own memory of our own experiences even accurate?

Are there a few stories from your life that you have repeated dozens of times? Most likely! Have you repeated events from your early childhood —say, age 2-5, in that area – that you clearly remember the story?

The question to ask yourself is have you repeated the story so often that you are completely unaware of the subtle changes you have made to the story? I’m not accusing anyone of lying. Certainly not intentionally, however, it is easy to change small pieces and still maintain the essence. Have you ever played telephone? It’s an old game where people sit in a circle and a story is passed around the room by whispering to your neighbor. You know the story is often completely different. That should give us great pause relying on 3rd and 4th hand information as the absolute truth. But have you considered that your own facts on that childhood story may not be accurate? It’s true. What about the preschool memories you swear you remember. Do you really remember or is it so much a part of your history because of family members telling the story over and over?

That’s hard to know. We should probably say this story is based on actual events. Certainly there is truth in much of the tale. It would be a rare event indeed if we were to repeat an incident exactly as it happened every single time. We remember new parts, we get a better response to other parts, and we cut parts that did not go over or make sense. We change it along the way. We can become better storytellers as we learn what makes for a great story based on response. You can’t beat practice.

I don’t want to argue with anyone convinced that they remember, but consider how hard it is to get the details right on something that happened last year. Not just perceived right, but completely totally correct. Unless you recorded or tape the event, you will mess several things up — guaranteed! Our attitude, interests, views, perceptions affect what we remember.

Now personally, I cannot remember if being stung on my head by a bee in kindergarten comes from my memory or the family talking and laughing and adding their parts to the story over the years. I still have other people repeating that story and there are only two others left. That was 60 years ago. I will agree that I was stung on my head by a bee sitting in my kindergarten class an that I ran out the school, across the street to my home and mother. Yes, I was crying. But I can tell that story with great flair and details that will grab your attention, but I must admit that I should preface the story with the comment “based on actual events.” I now know it is not all true. Impossible. I remember more details now than I did when it happened. Think about it.

THERE'S MOVEMENT

There had to be some movement sooner or later. The initial apparent stalemate is beginning to crumble. The feeling was that the only change that would occur would be one sided, but both parties have agreed to mediation. Chas and Olivia will both meet together with a reconciliation leadership team organized by two professionals on February 14th. Each party was offered the opportunity to have two members from The Home who they believed would be open to both parties. Gail and I will come on behalf of Chas and Liz will come for Olivia. While Gail, Liz and I will talk to all parties, Liz has had her own issues with Chas. She was the flower lady who kept moving his potted plants so she could water and for some reason, never put them back and considered it his problem.

Personally I do not see any resolution. If we get to people to forgive and let go I will refer this team to churches for help. Every major interpersonal church conflict I have ever seen only ends when one party or the other moves. That may only mean leaving the church. In this case one may need to leave The Home to bring and end to his conflict. Neither one really likes the other. Both have agitated the other. Both appear to look for ways to take offence.

When you look back at the straw that broke this camel’s back the conflict seems to really relate to who they are, not the actual action. Taking this step by step.

Chas left the area by the fireplace to see if help was needed in the kitchen. Good choice. He left an empty paper place and his glass cup on a table, Olivia, picked up the paper plate and took it to the garbage. The cup was still in her hand. Now it gets sticky. Why did she pick these up? This activity happens often. It is usually assumed that someone forgot the plate and it is thrown away through kindness. But why did Olivia pick up the plate? Was it kindness or was it part of a plan to attack Chas? We will never know because Chas spoke first. What are you doing with that plate? Throwing it away. Don’t touch my things? Why do you just leave them lying around instead of throwing them away in the first place? I am not throwing my cup away. Then put it where it belongs. And it goes on and on until Olivia threatens to get a restraining order against him. Nice follow through. She filed the order.

Normal people would have thanked the one picking up after them and the one doing the picking up says its no problem, I was going to the garbage anyway. That would be the end of things. Over, done, finished never to be addressed again. But there is history here. Both look for offense. The bitterness and hatred flows from their beings. So a minor, insignificant issue begins an all out war with sides being chosen, uniforms sewn and battle plans drawn over garbage. It really grew over three years of growing animosity.

I have no idea how many meetings are planned for the reconciliation group. I do believe Chas has the capacity to forgive and let go. Olivia does not appear to have that ability. Her control and manipulation radar will likely kick in and cause her to breath fire. It should be fun to watch. I’m glad I get a front row seat.