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

budfocht@gmail.com