Life is Like a Movie

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and I’ve seen a few movies in my time.

My kids often kid me when I say that a certain movie is in my top 10, since they know my top 10 list has about 37 movies on it.  

Movies that we as a family quote all the time, in our everyday conversations. “Oops, what do you mean ‘oops’? No oops.” from Independence Day. “Morons! I’ve got morons on my team!” from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.  “Touch my stuff I will stab you in the neck with a knife.” from Step Brothers.

A prerequisite for a movie being in my top 10 is that whenever I am dialing around (if you remember when TVs actually had dials you are almost as old as I am) if I see that a certain movie is on, no matter what point of the movie it is at, I am putting it on. The Godfather, The Natural, Forrest Gump, Heartbreak Ridge, I can’t get past them without putting them on.

During a recent heatwave I took my wife Terry to the air conditioned movie theater to beat the heat and see Finding Dory. Despite being the only adults in the theater without kids in tow, we really enjoyed the movie.

Finding Dory is certainly now in Terry’s top 10. I’m not sure how many movies she has in her top 10, but there are some movies that if I see are on TV I automatically put them on for her. Miss Congeniality is one, Dirty Dancing another.  Anything Melissa McCarthy is in will make Terry laugh.

About a dozen years ago Terry saw the movie 50 First Dates and has probably seen it a dozen times since. In the romantic comedy a young woman suffers from short-term memory loss, can’t remember anything that happened the previous day, and a reformed playboy has to try to win her heart over and over every day. It takes place in Hawaii and is very scenic.

Also about a dozen years ago Terry saw the movie Finding Nemo and has probably seen it a dozen times since. In the children’s animated adventure about family under the sea Terry’s favorite character was Dory, a blue tang fish who suffers from short-term memory loss.

I should have seen a pattern forming.

A few years ago, when my wife Terry was first diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease, an old friend of mine from college sent me the book Still Alice. It was a best seller about a woman my wife’s age that was also diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease.  I read about half of it and had to stop. I couldn’t take it.

When the movie came out last year the actress, Julianne Moore, won a lot of awards for her role as Alice and I was happy that the disease was getting some attention. Attention like the fact that Alzheimer’s Disease is the sixth leading cause of death in the United States. Too many people think Alzheimer’s is nothing more than a bad case of short-term memory loss.

Alzheimer’s kills more people worldwide than breast cancer and prostate cancer COMBINED. People are taking ice cube baths for ALS and wearing pink ribbons for cancer but what are they doing to help fight Alzheimer’s? 

Yes, I was glad to see that movie come out, but that didn’t mean I was going to see it. I couldn’t. I couldn’t think of anything positive that would come out of me seeing it. Out of us seeing it.

Well, the other night I finally grew a pair and played the movie Still Alice. Terry and I watched it but we didn’t really talk about it too much. During the movie I pointed out a few things to Terry that took place in the film that we could relate to, things Alice was experiencing that also happened to Terry.  Looking back, I don’t think it was such a good idea to watch it.

I was hoping it might trigger something in Terry, help her realize what is going on, if she doesn’t already, maybe help her feel that she is not alone in the world with this problem.  Maybe watching the movie would help her to express her feelings about this situation. Anything positive.

Nothing. The next day I asked her what she thought about the movie and she said it was “too depressing.” But she didn’t mean it was too depressing for her to enjoy it because she also has Alzheimer’s.  She has accepted that. “It is what it is,” she says about her dementia (as she refers to it as), using an expression that is in another top 10 list of mine, as in 10 worst sayings.

She just meant that it was simply not an upbeat movie, for anyone.

In that sense Terry is like me. I look for movies to entertain me, to make me feel good, not make me feel sad.  Make me laugh, not cry. Something to take me away from my daily cares and worries.

So Still Alice will NOT be going onto Terry’s top 10 list of movies. Mine neither. And neither will The Notebook, a film I watched bits and pieces of a long time ago when my daughters were watching it, long before Terry was diagnosed with the same disease as the woman in the film.

I’ll take A League of Their Own or Young Frankenstein over those two movies any day.

Until next time, there will be no crying in baseball or in the movies, even though we are now dealing with an Abby Normal brain.

Bud

Epic Dog

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and I have never wanted to own a dog.

Never. 

Not when I was a kid and my sister and I had one. Not when my kids were young and we owned one. And not now, even though I can now see an advantage in having one.

To me, a dog, or any pet that needs taking care of, is an anchor. It holds you back. It prevents you from traveling. It ties you down. It is just one more thing on my plate that I don’t need.

No, I never did want a dog and probably never will.

But I do enjoy watching our “grand dog.”

When our son goes out of town my wife Terry and I watch his dog, Harry. Harry is very entertaining. He is affectionate, happy and very athletic.  He loves kids and is very friendly to everyone. 

Everyone expect the mailman, the UPS man or the Fed Ex man, that is.

Like most dogs, Harry sees these delivery people as trespassers who come to the house but don’t stay around long when the barking starts. So the dogs are not only warning of trespassers, they are receiving positive reinforcement for their barking because the delivery man leaves.

But other than the delivery men, Harry is very loving.  He could probably qualify as an emotional support animal. At least for my wife Terry.

Ever since Terry was diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease close to 30 months ago, it has become more and more difficult for her to be alone. When I am at work Harry not only keeps Terry company, he entertains her. Harry is always chasing squirrels, rabbits, birds. Anything that moves in our backyard Harry tries to catch.

Since Harry and my son live in an apartment, Harry doesn’t have a yard. The two of them go on long runs and long walks, so Harry gets his share of exercise and outdoor life, but he is always on a 30-foot leash. In our fenced in backyard he gets to roam free, roll around in the grass, and he seems to love it.

And Terry loves to watch him. “Harry’s a funny dog,” she is always saying with a chuckle as she watches him bury a chewy treat in our backyard or run underneath the telephone wires hoping the squirrel will somehow fall.

They say some animals can help people with disabilities like anxiety, depression and other emotional or psychological conditions. They provide therapeutic benefits, sometimes alleviating or mitigating some of the symptoms of the disability.

Terry’s biggest problem these days with her advanced dementia is her inability to make decisions. I’m not sure how an animal is going to help in that area. He can’t tell her it is time to go to the bathroom or how to take a shower. But I do know a dog like Harry sure makes Terry feel good.

Some people would describe Harry as an ‘Epic dog’ but not me. I have heard the word epic used way too many times lately.

When I was growing up the word epic had to do with a poem that was way too long and usually about some sort of hero or legendary figure. Now, it is one of the most overused words in the English language and somehow had its meaning changed to “extremely awesome!”

Harry is extremely awesome and could qualify as a legendary figure, at least in our family, and is a hero to me for entertaining Terry.

So maybe Harry is an ‘epic dog.’

And even though I don’t want a dog, I do want to watch Harry again next month when our son goes out of town again. 

And Terry will think it is epic.

Until next time, try not to overuse words. To me, that is an ‘epic fail.’

Bud

Family Matters, Especially in Tough Times

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and with or without Steve Urkel, Family matters.

I recently spent a long weekend in New England, taking my wife Terry to visit her family.

In four days my wife got to see her mother, four sisters, a brother, two brothers-in-law, two nieces, a nephew and his wife, and a handful of great-nieces and great-nephews. (although only one or two of them were great, the others were just good)

During those four days Terry was the happiest she has been in a while. Probably since December when we last visited her family. 

Terry isn’t much of a conversationalist these days.  She always was a quiet person but now most of the talking she does is in response to things I say. But when she was with her siblings and mother she was actually starting conversations, asking questions. It was great to see.

Family truly does matter. Especially in tough times.

I once read that “tough times don’t last, but tough people do.”  I’m afraid I don’t see it that way.

I was extremely saddened to see in today’s paper that one of the toughest women I ever met, Pat Summit, died. I met Coach Summit, the winningest coach in NCAA Division I basketball, in 1980 when my work took me to Knoxville, Tennessee where I witnessed 5,000 fans attending a Lady Vols basketball game, an unheard of attendance figure for women’s basketball back then. Coach Summit won eight NCAA titles at Tennessee and was clearly the Vince Lombardi of women’s basketball.

The real reason it saddened (and scared) me so much is the fact that Coach Summit was diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease in 2011 and died just five years later at the age of 64.

My wife Terry was diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease in the spring of 2014 and in five years she will be 64.

Between now and then I hope to be taking Terry to visit her family more and more often. Because our tough times are not only going to last, they are going to get worse.

Another tough person I admired did last, 80-some years, but also passed away yesterday, football coach Buddy Ryan. I have worked closely with about 100 coaches in my career and although I never worked with him, he was one of the ones I respected most. He always spoke his mind, no matter how politically incorrect or no matter how many of his superiors he insulted. I always admired that. That and the fact that he was a defensive genius. (when he was the assistant coach in charge of the defense he once punched the other assistant who was in charge of the offense, during a game! because he thought the offense was losing the game for the team)

Among the many coaches I worked with, the only thing any of them ever punched was a visiting locker room chalkboard during a little too-spirited halftime speech.

Different coaches, just like different people, handle tough situations in different ways.

My family is handling our tough situation pretty well so far. So far.

As Terry’s decline continues, the amount of help she needs is increasing. Luckily, we have great kids who are willing to do whatever it takes to help out. My sister and her daughter don’t live too far away, and I am afraid it is getting closer to the point where I am going to have to ask them for help as well.

I am not ready to seek professional help yet. As long as Terry knows who I am, I want to be, I need to be, her caregiver. There will be a day when we are going to have to go that route, with professional help, but we aren’t there yet.

So it is time for the tough to get going, because the going is starting to get tough. And is only going to get tougher down the road.

But I don’t think about ‘down the road’ that often.  At least I try not to. I know I should, I know I have to eventually, at least that is what my friends and family tell me. But I just can’t. The only thing that keeps me going is trying to enjoy today.

In the song Quiet Your Mind Zack Brown sings “Soak it all in. It’s a game you can’t win.  Enjoy the ride.”

In the Bible Isaiah said “Let us eat and drink; for tomorrow we shall die.”

That has become by motto. I try to live in the moment.  Someone once said: “Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow.” Not sure who it was.

It was either Albert Einstein or Steve Urkel.

Until next time, enjoy the ride, and your family, while you can.

Bud

A Woman in Charge

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and this very well could be the dawning of the Age of Aquarius.

Or Armageddon.

It’s one of those half-full/ optimistic situations. Some feel, and with good reason, it is not only a half-empty/ pessimistic situation but a both halves-empty/pessimistic situation.

Whether you like it or not, whether you want to admit it or not, we are about to have a woman president.  

Or, we are about to witness the end of times.

Maybe both.

It wasn’t that long ago when Miss Ellie wanted to run for town council and the entire population of Mayberry was divided between the men and the womenfolk. They worried it was the end of civilization as they knew it.

It was.

Some 55 years later, the United States is about to catch up with the rest of the world and have a woman in charge.

Germany has Angela Merkel as Chancellor.  Liberia has President Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf.  Frozen had Elsa of Arendelle.

And now, We the People are about to have a woman in charge. Whether it forms a more perfect union or not is yet to be determined.

Who would have thunk it? Or, as one Cooperstown resident Richie “Whitey” Ashburn used to say to his long-time TV/radio booth partner and fellow Baseball Hall of Famer Harry Kalas, “Hard to believe, Harry.”

I mean, we are either going to have a woman president, or we are all in a large hand basket heading to hell.

Maybe both.

Remember, they laughed at Noah when he was running around asking ‘how long is a cubit?’ Before him, they laughed at Job. (rhymes with robe for you non-Bible readers).

If we don’t elect a woman, it will truly be the 11th sign of the Apocalypse, if the orange guy wins. (You know why the orange guy has that weird hairstyle, don’t you?  It covers up the 666 birthmark on his head.)

Some feel electing a woman president would be a sign of the Apocalypse.

I think having a woman in charge might not be the worst thing. Take it from the voice of experience.

My second year out of college the man who hired me for my first job took a leave of absence and a woman took his place. Twenty years through my career a woman was hired and implanted (no pun intended) into a position between me and my boss. I survived both times.

Many cultures and religions believe that the man is in charge, and the woman is supposed to be submissive to him. Not necessarily submissive like Anastasia in 50 Shades of Grey, mind you, but submissive to the point that what the man says goes. In the home (or Grey’s bedroom) and in the village as well.

In the Bible, 1 Timothy says “Let a woman learn quietly with all submissiveness. I do not permit a woman to teach or to exercise authority over a man, rather she is to remain quiet.”

Wow!  Paul wrote that in a letter in the year 62. I’m not sure that philosophy has held up over the years. At least not in most cultures.

No, the thinking of keeping the women barefoot and pregnant while the men go out and run the world has seen its day.

Our country is about to have a woman in charge, and it isn’t even Oprah.

For the first 30 years of our marriage my wife Terry was in charge of the house. Even though she worked, she worked a fraction of the hours I did so she kept the checkbook, she paid the bills and she did the shopping. I would help when I could, which was a fair amount of the time.

For the last 30 months, however, I have had to gradually take on all of the responsibilities around the house and the reason seems anything but fair.

I long for the days when my wife was in charge. In charge of the cooking, in charge of the cleaning, in charge of anything. But now her Early Onset Alzheimer’s disease prevents her from taking charge of anything.

I have to admit that I was never from the school of thought that said the man is naturally the boss and what he says goes. My marriage with Terry was always based on us being partners. When I was home I changed a shit-load of diapers. (okay, pun intended). I cooked many a meal (on the grill). I did the dishes and cleaned the house (if Terry was sick or if I made the mess when she was gone).

Now I sometimes feel sorry for myself because I no longer have a partner. I don’t mean just my helpmate, someone to share the chores. I mean my soulmate, the person I chose to share my life with.  I no longer have my confidant.

She was my moral compass.

Now I have to make ALL of the decisions around the house, and I do mean ALL. What Terry wants to eat, what she should wear today. When she should shower or go to the bathroom.

I would love to have a woman in charge. My woman in charge. In charge of my home again. But that’s not going to happen.

What is going to happen though is that a woman is going to be in charge of the United States.

Or, it will be the end of times. 

Maybe both.

No one knows the time or day when it will happen. But signs are pointing toward it.

Until next time, get used to saying “Yes, Ma’am.” And say your prayers.

Bud

Happy Happy Joy Joy

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and I am afraid that I’m not “such a happy Chewbacca!”

Certainly not as happy as that Texas woman who recently bought the Chewbacca mask and recorded a video of herself getting quite a big kick out of it.  The video was watched by over 50 million people during the first 24 hours it was on the internet this past weekend.

Me, I am afraid I have not been a very happy Wookiee.

There was a television cartoon on the Nickelodeon channel in the early ‘90s, when our kids were young, called Ren & Stimpy.  Ren was an emotionally unstable Chihuahua and Stimpy was a good-natured but stupid cat. They performed the ‘happy happy joy joy’ song and dance.

Some feel that ‘Happy happy joy joy’ was a tribute to folk, country and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer singer Burl Ives, since some of the lyrics are from some of the songs Ives sang.

Some feel ‘Happy happy joy joy’ is when the world expects you to put on this happy and joyful face when what you really want to do is scream, curse and cry. To make everyone happy even though your world is falling apart, you put on this mask of ‘happy happy joy joy’ while singing a silly song.

I guess I have been guilty of wearing a mask.

Not quite the Chewbacca mask, more like the one Eleanor Rigby kept in a jar by the door.

The British DNA in me has helped ‘keep a stiff upper lip’ the last two years, since my wife Terry was diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s disease. I would have to admit, however, that the lower lip has been known to quiver from time to time.

One of Terry’s favorite music videos is Miranda Lambert’s “Mama’s Broken Heart” and in it the country star complains that her mother is telling her “don’t matter how you feel, it only matters how you look. Go fix your make up, it’s just a break up, run and hide your crazy and start actin’ like a lady. ‘cause I raised you better, gotta keep it together, even when you fall apart.”

I’ve been working hard to not fall apart, trying to keep it together. I really haven’t felt too much true happiness the last few years.  But there have been times when I was enjoying the moment, which has been my goal all along, to try to enjoy the moment and try not to think of the big picture.

Fortunately, this time of year is when those moments usually begin to get more and more enjoyable. And more and more frequent.

It is the end of May, my favorite time of year. My work load slows down, the weather turns nice and most importantly; I am home a lot more. Home with my Terry.

My wife Terry needs me more and more each day, needs help with more and more tasks.  When we are apart I worry about her quality of life. I know she gets nervous when she is alone. She calls me and asks me where I’m at? She doesn’t always understand why we are not together.

But when we are together, we laugh. A lot. Seeing Terry laugh is the greatest.

To me, it is so much better than the infectious laugh of the Texas woman wearing the Chewbacca mask. It truly makes me happy and gives me joy.

So as the warmer weather arrives I will be home more with Terry to enjoy it.

The other side of the coin, however, is that as the days grow warmer, with each passing day Terry’s cognitive skills decline more and more. This makes me worry about the future and, in turn, start doing the happy happy joy joy song and dance.

I never let Terry see me sad or upset. I need to be strong for her, to give her a sense of security. The best way for me to make her happy is to be happy myself. Or at least wear the mask of a happy person.

Happy happy joy joy.

Until next time, hope you can be as happy as the latest internet sensation, the woman wearing the Wookiee mask in Texas. She is such a happy Chewbacca!

Bud

Power of Prayer

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and like Tim the Tool Man from the popular 1990s TV show Home Improvement I want ‘more power.’

The power of prayer.

I’m reminded of the aphorism:  “There are no atheists in foxholes.” (If the word aphorism has you stuck, other examples of aphorisms include “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’, “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush” or my favorite, “Give a man a fish, he eats for a day. Teach a man to fish; he is out on his boat with his buddies drunk every weekend.”)

Back to atheists in foxholes. I assume the term ‘foxhole’ goes back to one of the World Wars when soldiers dug out defensive positions during combat. And speaking of World Wars, if WWI was supposed to be “The war that ends all wars”, how come they gave it a number?

I think the aphorism about foxholes, dealing with times of extreme stress or fear, is true. People in those situations believe, or hope for, some form of higher power. You know, God. Or as my wife Terry calls Him, by His ‘old school’ name, Jehovah.

When the shit hits the fan, all people pray, whether they call it prayer or not. They ask for help. From anyone. From anything. When there is nowhere else to turn, they turn to faith.

And for good reason. It works.

Not too far from where we live is the National Shrine of Saint Katharine Drexel, the second American-born person to be canonized. Katharine was a wealthy Philadelphia socialite whose family founded Drexel University. She founded the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament, a religious order serving African American and Native American missions.

Katharine Drexel used her wealth and fame to set up a meeting with the Pope.  When she had her audience with Pope Leo she demanded he give more support to the Native Americans in the Southwest part of the United States. In response to her demands, the pontiff suggested Drexel become a missionary herself, and she said “fine,” and did.

Today the Drexel Shrine draws about 6,000 people a year, who come there to pray. Many of them have documented stories about how after their visits to the shrine they experienced “miracles” in their lives. Their mother’s cancer went into remission.  Their child’s ineffective immune system began working.  The Phillies won the World Series.

My in-laws raised 10 kids in the 1950s and ‘60s in a three-bedroom tenement, living on the first floor of a three-story house they owned that they rented the second and third floors out.  All 10 kids are now successful professionals with happy family and social lives. (Make that nine of the 10. The sixth child, Therese, married badly and developed a terminal illness) That family of 12 said the rosary, every night, together, and my Mother-in-law swears (she never really swears) that it worked.

She has told me and others that prayer definitely works, and she has proof.

Many people have proof that prayer works. And I am not talking about the people who see the face of Jesus in their grilled cheese sandwich or on a potato chip. (and speaking of that, how can those people think it is the image of Christ? If anything, it is the image of an artist rendering of Christ. I don’t think the Son of God ever had a formal sitting for his portrait, and he died about 1800 years before the first camera. Those images of Christ are really images of what sixth century artists agreed upon.)

There are many people out there who agree upon the fact that their prayers were answered. And believe it or not I might be one of them.

I truly believe that prayer works. The rub is, it doesn’t always work the way you expect. The way you want. When you ask for Devine Intervention you don’t always get the result you ask for. But that doesn’t mean your prayers weren’t answered. They just weren’t answered the way you wanted, or expected.

A lot of people I know think I drew the short straw. They think my wife Terry got the shitty end of the stick, when she was diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease two years ago. And I would have to agree. My first reaction was “What’s up with that, God? I pay taxes. Terry never did a thing in her life that would make her deserve something like this. WTF?” I was just shy of sounding like the Olympic ice skater Nancy Kerrigan, after she was attacked back in the 1990s by rival Tanya Harding’s friend and performed that famous whine “Whhyyyy?”

But I also feel that despite what happened to Terry and me, we are blessed. Our prayers have been answered. Well, obviously not all of them, but some of them, anyway.

Sure, Terry having cognitive impairment is no blessing. For me, seeing my best friend, my soul mate, my helpmate, decline mentally on almost a daily basis is no picnic. It sucks!

A wise man once said “you can’t always get what you want but if you try sometime you find you get what you need.”

If there is one thing I have learned over the last two years, it is that God doesn’t give you more than you can handle. He sometimes gives you a shitload more than you would like to handle, but when push comes to shove you can handle it if you really have to. If you really try.

And Terry and I have really, really been trying. And so far we have been able to handle it. So far.

But despite Terry’s Alzheimer’s we feel blessed because we have three great kids, we have great friends and family, and we have each other.

This disease has brought Terry and me so close. And it was Divine Intervention almost 40 years ago that brought Terry and me together in the first place.

Looking back, if I had been told 40 years ago that I would get to spend all this time with someone like Terry but at the end it was going to get messy, I would have signed on. No questions asked.  Well, maybe a couple of questions, like for instance, Whhyyyy??

But, that really is not my style.  Most of my praying involves saying thank you for what I have and saying please can I have help with this or that.

I have always prayed throughout my life. Looking back, I am sure some of my prayers were answered.  And I am pretty sure some of them were not.  Or at least answered the way I had hoped or expected.

I will continue to pray, pray that I can keep Terry happy and safe in the years to come. Keep her with me as long as I can.

Until next time, hope your prayers are answered.

Bud

May Day

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and yesterday, Sunday, was May 1, and in many parts of the world was celebrated as May Day.

I celebrated May Day yesterday because, due to rain, I had the day off.

May Day is an ancient spring festival, involving dancing around the maypole, singing and eating cake.

I’m thinking it must be a big deal if it involves cake.

In olden times towns and villages would celebrate the coming of spring on May 1. Most farmers had already planted their crops by May 1 so it was a day the laborers could have off from work to celebrate the end of a long, cold winter, and the promise of more pleasant days to follow.

May has always been my favorite month. My work load begins to ease in May and my hours worked per week begin to decline.  Most importantly, May brings with it the anticipation of the arrival of summer.

I have always been a boy of summer.

That is reason enough to celebrate May 1. May Day.

There is also another Mayday. One that, unfortunately, I am becoming more and more aware of.

Mayday is an emergency procedure word used internationally as a distress signal. It is used primarily by sailors and pilots, and always said three times for emphasis (Mayday, Mayday, Mayday). It comes from the French word m’aidez which means “help me.”

There have been plenty of times in the last two years, since my wife Terry was diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease, that I wanted to call out Mayday-Mayday-Mayday. In the last 25 months there has been plenty of distress. Plenty of times when I didn’t think I was going to make it. Plenty of times when I asked the Good Lord to “help me.”

May Day has also become the International Workers’ Day, a day to celebrate not only the hard work performed all year long but the eight hour work day. The balance of eight hours of working, eight hours of sleeping and eight hours of leisure. It commemorates the Haymarket Affair, which occurred in Chicago about 130 years ago, a peaceful rally in support of workers striking for an eight hour day that unfortunately turned violent.

My wife Terry worked for over 30 years in a variety of jobs. When we first got married she taught a 6am aerobics class at the local YMCA. For the life of me I could not figure out why people would pay to take a fitness class at that ungodly hour. I was happy that Terry got paid to lead that class, however.

That aerobics class grew into a full time job at the “Y” working with youngsters, teaching gymnastics to toddlers. “Gym-Jam” it was called.

That was the greatest job for us. The “Y” was right down the street and with the free day care they had, our kids practically grew up at the “Y”. It was a great atmosphere for them and the day care room was literally right across the hall from the gym that Terry called her office.

During the summer Terry ran the YMCA Sports Day Camp. Basically she got paid to play with kids outside all summer. Again, it was great for her and our kids.

But, as I have learned with too many things over the last two years, all good things have to come to an end sooner or later. Too many sooner. Terry was so well liked at the “Y” and did such a good job that they promoted her, to a different “Y” and to a different job, one that involved more money but also more responsibilities. It was also a job that she did not enjoy. It was more administrative and management duties and less hands on with the kids.

After the “Y” Terry, at different times, taught physical education and a computers course at a grade school, she was a postal carrier (what we used to call a Mailman before the age of political correctness), a grade school athletics director and a track & field coach, and later worked at the shopping mall at a Sears. (She never could find out for me what the people at Sears ever did with Roebuck)

For the past several years she worked in a doctor’s office where they help people lose weight and keep the weight off. The running joke in the office was that Terry was the “after” picture in the “before and after”, since she weighs in at a whopping 102 pounds.

But I am afraid Terry’s working days came to an end last year. She could no longer perform the duties she once was hired to do. Her cognitive impairment continues to worsen.

The worst part about Terry not working is not the lack of income, but the lack of input. Getting out of the house and interacting with others was so good for her. The brain is a muscle and it needs to be exercised. Working was very good for Terry.

This May Day, yesterday, was very good for Terry.

On this May Day, while others were honoring the working class and celebrating the arrival of spring, we were honored with guests and celebrated their company.

I had the day off due to bad weather and Terry and I were enjoying the company of one of her brothers and his wife, who were visiting, along with our son and his dog.

It sure beat working!  What a Great May Day it was!

May 1 is also the feast day of St. Joseph the Worker, a carpenter, and the Catholic patron saint of all workers.

Terry’s brother is somewhat of a carpenter. He is a university chemistry professor by trade, but is very handy with his large assortment of tools. He has done numerous construction jobs on our house and on this May 1 visit brought us a “project” he had been working on.

A kitchen pantry that he made for us is now the most expensive thing we have in our house. A solid oak kitchen cabinet that will truly become a family heirloom.

Many people were complaining about the rain on May 1 this year, but that is something we never do around our house. When our kids were little they always liked it when it rained in the spring because they knew that meant the games would be rained out and I wouldn’t have to work. I would be home.

This May Day I was home, enjoying guests. It was truly a great day to celebrate.

Until next time, hope you had a great May Day, with or without rain, and hopefully will have no reason to cry out mayday, mayday, mayday.

Bud

P.S. parts of this blog were taken from a blog I wrote last May, in case some of you with good memories thought you were experiencing déjà vu all over again.