Happy Mother’s Day, Mom | by Linda Brendle

Helen Hagan Robinson, my beautiful mother, probably around 19 or 20 years old

Today was my first Mother’s Day without Mom, and it wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought it would be.

Potpourri | by Linda Brendle

Potpourri (Photo credit: Niina C)

Potpourri is defined as “a mixture of flowers, herbs, and spices that is usually kept in a jar and used for scent.” That’s not the kind of potpourri this blog is about. It’s about the alternate kind of potpourri: “a miscellaneous collection” or “a combination of incongruous things.” My sister-in-law Jo Lynn recently posted an article on Facebook, and she said it was especially for me to add to my future-blog-material file. It was attributed to a woman named Regina Brett on the occasion of her 90^th birthday. After years of internet experience, I’m a little skeptical of the origins, but the humor and wisdom of some of the thoughts are inescapable. I’ve chosen a few of my favorites for further comment.

Get rid of anything that isn’t useful. Clutter weighs you down in many ways.

I think my former employers followed this line of thinking, and unfortunately, they decided that usefulness diminished with age. On or about my 60^th birthday, I was informed that my services were no longer required. I can only pray that my husband doesn’t subscribe to the same school of thought.

Recycled Gifts | by Linda Brendle

I got several recycled gifts this year – not the “re-gifted” kind that someone didn’t want and decided to pass on, but some very special gifts from some very special people. First, there was the phone I told you about last week. David has been looking for ways to expand our limited connections to satisfy my ever-expanding demands. When a good friend upgraded to the latest and greatest, he made David an offer he couldn’t refuse on his existing phone. The friend works for one of the major telecom giants, so rather than being a shop worn hand-me-down, the phone is like new in the original box and has all the accessories and the latest software updates. That’s recycling at its best. But I also got two other very special recycled gifts, items that were something else in a different life and were reincarnated into something different.

Mom’s Red Hat | by Linda Brendle

red hat society (Photo credit: Gerard Stolk (vers le Noël))

My membership in the Red Hat Society was short but sweet. I never thought much about it except, like the lady in the commercial says, “That’s for some old person, not me!” Then I discovered that Red Hat ladies may have some years under their belts, but they’re definitely not old.

During our six years in Florida, we lived in a subdivision that offered lots of amenities including some very nice walking paths. David and I were more active then, and since we both worked at home, we needed an excuse to get out of the house every day. We got up early and, after a quick breakfast and a perfunctory scan of the newspaper, we went for a walk. It was not only good exercise, but it was also a great way to meet our neighbors. We met Bill and Mary and became great friends with them, and I got invited to join a ladies’ Bible study group. We also met two Red Hat ladies. I can still picture their faces, but I can’t remember their names, which probably means that I’m closer to that “old person” in the commercial than I care to admit. For the purpose of this story, I’ll call them Jean and Diana.

Mom’s Fears | by Linda Brendle

Mom was always a fearful person. Dad worked nights several times during their 70-year marriage. She sometimes told the story of being a young bride, left alone in an isolated country house while her groom worked at the ice house every night. One evening she was awakened from a restless sleep by a terrible noise. She later described it as sounding like someone was trying to get into the house straight through the wall of her bedroom. She had no phone and no close neighbors, so she huddled in the center of the bed, trembling with fear and wondering how long she had left to live. The noise continued for a while, but when the walls didn’t splinter and the threat didn’t seem to increase, she screwed up her courage and crept outside to investigate. She slipped down the front steps and peeked around the corner, and there she saw it. An old milk cow was chewing on the grass that grew up beside the pier and beam foundation that supported the house. She laughed about it later, but she and I had a replay of sorts years later when I was in my early teens.

Photo Memories of Mom’s 90th Birthday | by Linda Brendle

Mom was born 91 years ago today. Last year we had a birthday party for her, and I wrote about it in one of my posts. I talked about what fun it was, sort of, but I focused a lot on my caregiving angst. I told you about some of the highlights of the day, but this year I want to show you. Enjoy!

The Horror of Alzheimer’s | by Linda Brendle

A human brain with Alzheimer’s (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Last week Krista Krueger was a guest on my blog. Although she normally writes dark fantasy, paranormal, and horror, in keeping with the topic of my blog, she wrote an open and heartfelt post titled “When Reality Bites, Write.” This week she invited me to be a guest on her blog KompletelyKrista.  In keeping with her genre, I wrote a post called “The Horror of Alzheimer’s.” Pop over for a read, and spend a few minutes browsing through Krista’s other writings.

Blessings,

Linda

Top Ten Comments from the First Year | by Linda Brendle

I published my first post on this blog a year ago today. In thinking about how to mark the day, I thought about doing something like what I did when I hit 10,000 all-time view,  reviewing the numbers and stats, but I really wanted to do something with more meaning.

Southridge Village’s Tribute to Mom | by Linda Brendle

Since Mom died on May 20 we’ve received a lot of sweet, heartfelt expressions of sympathy. There have been e-mails, notes on Facebook, cards, phone calls, and personal words of support. All of them have meant so much and have helped us deal with the grief, but I don’t think any of them has meant any more to me than the one we received today.

Mom’s Busy Hands | by Linda Brendle

One of my writer friends recently issued a challenge in her blog to describe the hands of someone; to try and show this person to the reader by showing her hands. I immediately thought of Mom’s hands. If I had to describe them in one word, I’d have to use the word “busy.”