Paper
Clocks
By Bud
Focht
Hi, my
name is Bud and 29 years ago this week my youngest child was born. Our third.
After that, when people asked how many kids we had I would always say “Three,
one of each.”
Back
in 1988, when our foursome became a fivesome, I had a favorite song, Handle With Care. by a band that people in
the biz called a “super group”, the Traveling Wilburys.
The
band was mostly made up of a bunch of unknowns, like Bob Dylan, George Harrison,
Roy Orbison and Tom Petty. Yesterday Tom Petty went Into the Great Wide Open and it made me get a bit nostalgic.
I am
having a first anniversary this week. I was told by some that the first
anniversary is paper, but others have told me that it’s a clock. Do they sell
paper clocks?
We men
are infamously known for forgetting anniversaries, even the first ones. I
remembered this one, though, even if I am not sure if I want to.
There
are many anniversaries that we all remember.
On
the negative side, there is June 28, 1914, when Austria’s Ferdinand was
assassinated, starting WWI and eventually causing WWII. Twenty-seven years
later there was December 7, a date that will live in infamy. And of course, 16
years ago there was September 11.
On
the positive side, there is Memorial Day, the unofficial start of summer, when
people honor those who died while serving in the U.S. military by going to the
beach. The Fourth of July, when people have cookouts, parades and blow off
parts of their hands with fireworks to celebrate the birth of our nation. And of course, there is December 25, when
people celebrate the birth of Jesus by killing a tree to put inside the house,
trample over each other in stores to get the last Electronic Helmet, whether it
be Marvel Legends or Star Wars, and give Fruit Cake to relatives that they
don’t really like.
I am
having an anniversary this week and I’m not sure if it is positive or not. Not
sure whether to celebrate or not. Not sure whether to go to the beach, buy an
electric helmet to light fireworks or just eat one of the many fruit cakes I
have from relatives.
There
are other anniversaries this week, and I’m not sure if they are being
celebrated or not either.
Forty-six
years ago this week Disney World opened, teaching millions of Florida
vacationers how to stand in line.
Forty-two
years ago this week Ali beat Frazier in the rubber match of what has to be the
best three-match series in the history of sport. That is if you call two men
giving each other CTE (chronic traumatic encephalopathy) a sport.
One
hundred and twenty-seven years ago this week one of my childhood idols, Groucho
Marx, was born. What do you mean not all
the kids in the 60s wore greasepaint mustaches and eyebrows?
And
then there is the anniversary I am having this week. One year ago today I quit
my job, my career that spanned over 35 years, to take on a much more rewarding
but also much more challenging job as a caregiver. I spent 42 years on three
college campuses, now I spend 24 hours a day on my own campus.
During
most of my career I would day dream about what I would do, how I would spend my
days, if I no longer had to work. Winning the lottery, retiring, whatever, when
I was no longer going to work every day I had it all planned out, exactly how I
was going to spend my free time.
It
sounded great.
What
do they say about making plans? Ones that don’t often go awry often make God
laugh.
As
it turns out, I had more time to myself when I was working 70 hours a week than
I do now.
Being
a caregiver for my wife Terry, who is now in the middle stage of Early Onset
Alzheimer’s Disease, is figuratively and literally a 24-hour-a-day job.
On
the positive side, I get to hang out with Terry all the time. I can give her
the care and attention she needs. I get to enjoy a life of leisure, without
worrying about the problems associated with work.
For
that I feel truly blessed.
But
on the negative side, blah blah blah. I was about to start venting. I was about
to start typing as fast as my fat little fingers could go about how tough I
have it. (actually, I have long, slender fingers and could even have been a creepy
hand model in my retirement).
The
negative side is that one year ago Terry was so much better off. Twelve months
ago she still knew how to call me on her cell phone. Now she would have trouble
picking out a cell phone from a group of five objects on a table that included
paper and clocks.
One
year ago, Terry could still write her name. Now she has trouble making her X in
the right spot. A year ago, she could still help washing the dishes or folding
the laundry. Now, she has a 50-50 chance of putting her shirt or pants on
backwards or putting her shoes on the right foot.
What
a difference a year makes.
No,
I am afraid I will not be celebrating this one-year anniversary. I AM
celebrating the fact that I have been able to be with Terry every minute during
the last year, but I can’t celebrate where we are right now, or where we are
heading.
Until
next time, as Tom Petty sang, “I know what’s right, I got just one life. In a
world that keeps on pushin’ me around. But I’ll stand my ground and I won’t
back down.”
Bud
