A New Normal

I am sitting here, at my computer, a cup of coffee nearby.  Christmas music is on the radio in the background.  My three loyal companions are laying around my feet.  To them it is just another day.  Matt is on his way to Alpena, taking my restless parents back to where they are most comfortable.  Soon I will have to get ready to go to work.  My first shift in as an Emergency Room nurse on Christmas day.

Last week I called my mother to tell her that Matt and I would be there for lunch on Christmas eve.  I thought we would go, eat with them and then my parents could open their gifts.  Matt and I would come home and have our Christmas, since I had to work the next day.  Before I could lay out the plans to my mother she asked me "are you coming to get us and take us to your house for Christmas?".  Taken aback, as that was not my plan, I paused for a moment.  "That's what you did last year" she said.  Then she added, "we really enjoyed it."  Well, what was I to say to that?  "No, I wasn't planning on having you here?"  So, I said, "of course, we will be there to get you and we can have dinner at our house."  And, then, as I always do, I speak before really thinking.  "You can spend the night and we can take you back Christmas morning."  My mother actually sounded excited (which she doesn't much anymore) replied "we would like that."

So, it was settled.  I informed Matt of the change of plans.  And being the trooper he is, he smiled and said that would be great.  It isn't that we didn't want my parents here, quite the opposite.   We just both know how it is going to go.  He, being far more patient than I, can handle it much better.  Even though I vow to,  I always end up feeling short and then angry at myself for my lack of tolerance.

As dementia patients do, my parents live mostly in the past.  And not in my past, in their childhoods.  And nothing sets off my mothers long term memory better than a ride through the area she grew up in.  As we are driving through Ossineke, Spruce, Lincon and Mikdo, my mother is reminiscing about life with a father who sheared sheep and an older brother who played football, and was, in her mind, the favorite of her parents.  Of course we have heard these stories many, many times and can pretty much recite them along with her word for word.  Not to be outdone, my dad throws in a story about growing up in Pennsylvania.  But as his dementia progresses he gets stuck on the same story and by the time we reach home we have heard the very same tale about his father working in the coal mines five times.  And, they both tell their stories in stereo.  So everyone is talking and no one is really listening.

My dad is very comfortable in his little apartment at Turning Brook.  He has a routine that he knows and it is very hard on him when you take him out of it.   The problem lies in that my Mother loves to go out and very much enjoys leaving for a time.  Compound this by the fact that neither will do anything without the other, and my mother is the boss.  So, my dad has to come to my home when he really doesn't want to.  He won't sit, he paces, worries about the dogs getting hit by cars, and tells us that we leave too many lights on. He gets up and checks to see if his coat and hat are available because he wants to go "back to that place he lives."  My mom tells him over and over to sit down and be quiet.   But he won't.  He just walks around some more, checks on his coat and then tells us the story about his dad in the coal mine again.

So last night I suggested we go to the Christmas Eve Service at the Methodist Church.  It is the church that my parents attended for their entire married life and the one I grew up in.  I knew it was going to be a challenge with my dad.  But, I figured it would be a distraction for a while and I was really looking for something that made me feel like Christmas.  I had spent the last week feeling very melancholy about Luke and trying to be okay with the way things were now going to be.  My son is grown and my parents are like small children.  And the frustration was like a tight ball in my chest as I tried to tell my dad that we wouldn't be leaving for a while yet and he needed to take his coat off and sit down for a bit.

So we finally piled in the car and drove to the church.  My parents hadn't been there since we moved them to Kalamazoo almost three years ago.  I hadn't been there in I don't know how long.  As Luke's dad's family was in Kalamazoo, we didn't come to Oscoda for the holidays while he was growing up. My parent always drove down to see us.

As we walked into the church the first person I saw was Mr. Hunt.  He and his family are as much a memory of that church as the building itself.  He was in his choir robe.  I hadn't been to a church where the choir wore robes in a very long time.  My last church was not traditional and so it was nice to see the choir lined up waiting to walk in during the first song.  We all managed to get in and sit down in the last pew as "All Come all Ye Faithful" was being sung.  I was sitting next to my dad who was belting the song out with all his might.  I found myself with tears in my eyes as I looked around at the people who had been in this church since I was a little girl.  I looked up at the familiar structure, remembering all the times I did the same waiting for that long sermon to finally end when I was a kid.  Hanging from the beams were Christmas banners.  And they were the ones our youth group made  when I was in middle school.

And as we sang, I looked at the Advent tree and candle that were there every single season when I was growing up.

In fact, little had changed.  The pastor was different but the Christmas message was still the same.   I knew all the words to the carols that we had sung year there year after year.  And for that moment all was good.  And for that hour I felt more settled than I had in a long time.

After the service we went home and had dessert.  My dad, not liking to vary from his nine o'clock bed time turned down the sheets shortly after.  Soon the house was quiet.  I thought about all the Christmas Eves I spent growing up.  It was my favorite day.  And, I imagine, one day, it will be again.  Life changes and not always the way we want it to.  My parents dementia will progress and this is possibly the last year that they will be able to make the trip to my house. My mother is becoming more physically frail.  My dads dementia seems to be on the fast track lately.    I tried to think of that but admit that I still became impatient and a little angry when they weren't excited about their gifts.  Matt reminds me that they can't help it.  And, I know they can't. 

But last night at church was nice and my memories of my life growing up there are precious.  Merry Christmas to everyone there who is a huge part of my past.  Merry Christmas Matt, I love you and the new memories we are making.  Merry Christmas Luke, I love you and miss you.   Merry Christmas to all my friends who make my life so full.  

Merry Christmas Mom and Dad.

Thank you for a childhood full of warm and fuzzy Christmas memories. 

I'll Have a Blue Christmas Without You

When Luke was ten or twelve, or something like that, he wanted a Play Station 2 for Christmas.  So did his best buddy, Kyle.  That is all they talked about, thought about and dreamt about for months.  Luke would lay in bed at night before he went to sleep and pretend he was holding the controller and move his fingers really fast.  He was "practicing" he said, for when he got his PS2.  He even had pictures of it from the Sunday ads in the Kalamazoo Gazette taped to his bedroom door.

I had done extra work at flu shot clinics that year for money for Christmas.  Luke's dad and I decided that we would purchase the Play Station for him.  We bought it at Sams Club, I remember.  It had the actual Play Station, a couple of controllers, and a few starter games.  I knew how excited my boy would be on Christmas morning and couldn't wait to see his face when he came racing out of his bedroom and found it under the tree.

But after I thought about it for a while, I didn't want the gift to be from Santa.  After all, he hadn't given flu shots to 80 grown people who were all afraid of needles.  I did.  So it was decided that the Play Station would come from Mom and Dad.   Luke was playing Roller Hockey that year and was in need of some equipment.  Santa would buy the hockey stick, pants and jersey.

Feeling happy with my decision, I wrapped the Play Station and put a tag on it that read "to Mom and Dad From Andrea" as I knew that Luke would be snooping.  Sure enough, as soon as he spotted the large box under the tree, he immediately began to investigate.  He asked me what was in it and I said it was new pots and pans for Grandma and Grandpa.  And, just as I knew he would, he promptly forgot about the box.

Christmas Eve night I put my boy to bed and kissed him goodnight.  He was lying there, fingers flying over the imagined Play Station controller,  practicing for the next day.  He was sure his dream would come to fruition and he would be finally holding  a real one.   After Luke finally went to sleep, his Santa gifts were put out (unwrapped, following Simmons tradition), and his stocking was filled.

The next morning his dad and I were sitting in living room as we heard him start to stir.  Realizing it was Christmas morning, his feet hit the floor and he came bounding out of his room and stopped in front of the tree where his brand new hockey gear was set out.  It took a moment for it to register that Santa didn't bring him a Play Station and thought that perhaps he needed hockey shorts and a jersey more.  He stood there, not saying a word then turned and walked into the dining room.  I followed him out and found him standing there trying very hard not to cry.  I bent over and put my arm around him and asked "what's wrong?"  He looked up at me with tears in his big brown eyes and said "what kind of Santa gives a kid clothes?"

Oh, I felt terrible.  My poor little boy was trying so hard not to cry.  I quickly lead him over to the wrapped box of "pots and pans for Grandma" and tore that tag off to reveal a new tag underneath that read "To Luke from Mom and Dad."  It took him a minute to figure out what was going on, but then he quickly ripped the wrapping paper off the box to reveal the long awaited Play Station 2.  Taking a few precious seconds to call Kyle and confirm that he had also received one, Luke and his dad set it up.  Luke did end up spending a very Merry Christmas realizing that dreams do come true, even with a false start or two.

So, fast forward about ten years.  Luke is twenty and living in Kansas City and working for the railroad, which runs 24/7.  This means that he will not be home for Christmas.  And since I this is my year to work on Christmas Day, I won't be going to see him.   The very first time we will be apart on Christmas.  And for this reason I have been drinking too much coffee,  going through old pictures, and shedding a tear or ten.   Would I share a couple you ask?  Why yes, I would love to.

Here he is, probably about five.  

He loved to wear a suit.  

And when he wasn't wearing a suit.....

He was dressing like a police officer.  I believe that some of the clothing was interchangeable.

This was our first Christmas in our new house.  

We had a beautiful real tree for several years.  Finally when I decided to go with an artificial one, Luke declared that I had "ruined Christmas."  He soon got over it.

And of course the yearly pose with Chandler and Chelsea.

It would be hard to get them all in the same place at once now.

Here is one when he was five posing with "Cold Cal."                      

Look at him in that Carhartt.

  

This one is at a family Christmas party

 with my cousin Amy's kids, Katy and Derrick.

And this one of my sweet little boy....

I need more coffee.......

Thankful Like Crazy

Today is Thanksgiving.  Matt and I are heading to Turning Brook to eat dinner with my parents.  I am feeling a little unsettled because my boy is out in Kansas City for his first major holiday alone.  I wish I could be there, but it didn't work out that way.    I am so thankful that he has a wonderful job with healthcare and benefits.    I just wish we had large freight lines that run through this area.  I know how homesick he is, especially today.  And I miss him so much.  But with opportunities that are becoming available closer to home,  maybe next year will be different.

I love you Luke.  And I know I have said it a million times, but I am very proud of you.  I am thankful that I got to be your mother.  Hang in there.

So, while I am on the subject of being thankful, I might as well give you the rest of my list while I am at it.

It pretty much goes without saying that I am extremely thankful for this guy.  I mean who wouldn't be.  He is the love of my life, my best friend, and a really great man, all rolled into one.  I am grateful for this awesome life we are living together, and I wouldn't trade it for the world

Along with the great guy above, comes these two.  Matt's daughter Matte and his son, Jacob.  I am thankful for two wonderful step children and the opportunity to be part of their lives.  I love you both.

And what would a blog post about thankfulness be if I didn't mention my furry babies.  Saber, Luke's rescue German Shepherd.  The most gracious, dignified, loving dog I have ever met.  We love you and you have a home with us however long it takes for Luke to be able to have you with him. 

Trapper, we love you too.  You have been my best buddie through thick and thin over the last 6 years.  Thank you.  

Rudy, we are so glad you became part of our family.  I am extremely thankful to Jamie McGuire for rescuing this guy from that crazy man.  

And we can't forget our little Nolan.  You have made  us laugh ever since that day we spotted you at the SPCA when we were just there to "look".  Thank you for being the unique little guy you are.

Anyone who has a family member with dementia knows how difficult that can be.  The journey that started the day my mother got admitted to the hospital for a fall and I had to tell both my parents they were never going home again is one that I am grateful is behind us.  I am so thankful for everyone who helped us along the way.  I am extremely thankful for the wonderful people at Turning Brook.  Thank you for treating my parents like family.  And thank you too for taking such good care of them and always keeping me informed.  

And of course, I am thankful for my parents.  Thank your for always being there for me.  I am glad that I can be there for you now.

I am thankful for my old, new hometown of Oscoda.  Two years ago if you would have told me I was going to come back here to live I would have, of course, told you that you were crazy.  But here I am and I love this place more and more everyday.

I am so thankful for my old friend, Lake Huron.  I don't always appreciate it in the way that I should. But it is always there for me.  

 

I am also very thankful for Tammy.

  The very nice lady who works at the little store a few miles from my house.  I  so appreciate her cheerfully taking care of the plethora of lottery tickets that I bring in there on a weekly basis.  

I am also thankful for my beautiful home and a warm fire on a cold day.  I am grateful for my job that I am learning to love, and that scrubs are provided there.  I am thankful for my camera and how much  it has changed my life lately.  And I know I already mentioned him, but I am also thankful for my husband who faithfully pulls over whenever I ask him to so I can take a picture.  I am also thankful that he makes me toast and brings it to me while I am working on a post so I can get it done before we leave.

Crazy I know, but I am grateful for Facebook.  How else could I keep in touch with the friends, past and present, on a daily basis?   I am grateful to be part of so many peoples' lives and sharing happiness and trials just by logging on.  (and how else would I have known that David Lockhart married Donna Fritz.. and see pictures?).

I can't finish this without saying how grateful I am for the friends in my life.  The ones I have known forever, the ones I left behind in Kalamazoo, the old ones that I have rekindled friendships with, and the new ones who have helped me feel at home.  I am also thankful for family whom I count as friends too, and for the people I have know since I was a child, friends of my parents, who are now friends of mine.  For all of you, I am extremely grateful.

One thing I try to do when I write these posts is not use the same word over and over.  After reading through this, and seeing the word "thankful" many times, I realize that there is really no other word to substitute. I am thankful today and everyday for all the wonderful people and things in my life.  For all of you reading this I am thankful for your support and encouraging comments.  

  

Happy Thanksgiving.

A Small (and shameless) Plug

Last summer I began thinking about starting a blog for two reasons.  One, to write about the often humorous (and sometimes serious) situations that I find myself in after returning to my hometown after a twenty seven year absence.  The other was to force me to get my camera out and begin to take pictures again.

 I have really enjoyed sharing about my life in Oscoda.  But mostly,  I have enjoyed taking the pictures that go along with each blog entry.  

This has gone from a small interest into a bigger hobby that I love.  I know that I will never be rich or famous as there are a lot of really good photographers out there.

  I just enjoy trying to capture what I see.  So I started a Facebook page to share my photographs with my friends.  If you are reading this blog but have not seen my Up North Crazy Photography page, I would like to invite you to take a look.

 Sometime in the near future I plan on an Etsy Store to make my prints available should anyone like a copy of what they see.  So if you have a moment, come on over.  And if you like it, please take a moment and share it.  Thank you very much.

https://www.facebook.com/upnorthcrazyphotography

Crazy about Hunting

*no deer have been harmed in the writing of this blog.  In fact, there are no photos of any dead deer either*

When we moved up here during the summer of 2012,  I had to do the usual calling around to set up utilities and services in our name at our new residence.   I called Sunrise Disposal about trash removal. They gave me their rates and my pick up day and then proceeded to tell me the days that were considered holidays and they would not pick up trash that day.....New Years Day, Memorial Day, the 4th of July, Labor Day, Opening Day, Thanksgiving and Christmas.   "Wait" I said, "you consider Opening Day a holiday?".  "Oh yes" she said, in a extremely serious voice.  That's rather interesting, I remember thinking to myself.    When I was talking about this at work to my new co-workers thinking they would find this as silly as I did,  they all looked at me and laughed.   Then they proceeded to tell me that not only do they not pick up your trash, the kids don't go to school either.  It is called "Safety Day".  The schools are closed to prevent the possibility of some poor child being mistaken for a deer while standing at the bus stop.  It was then I realized that folks here in Northern Michigan take their deer hunting very seriously.

When I was growing up my dad never hunted.  He never fished either.   So I have never really thought much about it.  Lukes dad wasn't a hunter.  Luke wanted to be, so he would beg his dad to take him out on opening morning.  (I don't recall the schools being closed though).  So Rich would put out a camouflaged pop up in the woods at his parents farm the night before.  Then the next morning he would take Luke out and they would "hunt" until he was so cold he couldn't stand it anymore.    They never got a deer and there was never venison in my freezer.  A lot of folks around here tell me that is the only meat they eat.  I don't like it.  Never have.  It isn't that I don't believe in eating it, I just don't want to.  People have told me you have to "disguise" it.  Until I can no longer afford beef, I think I will just eat that.  There usually is no trickery involved.

Then I married Matt Budrow.  He is a hunter.  After living with him, I realized that there is way more to successful hunting then just showing up in the woods on opening day and expecting to get a deer. I have learned all about "The Rut", which is where the females go into esterase, and they are ready to breed.  The bucks have fattened up in preparation to procreate, because during this time they have one thing only on their minds and it isn't eating.  So there is a lot of plotting and planning that goes on long before November 15th, by both the deer and the people who hunt them. Trying to outsmart them not only involves a lot of thinking, but also a lot of equipment that I was unfamiliar with prior to knowing my husband.

If Matt had to pick the single most important piece of equipment in his quest for the big buck I think he would have to pick his trail cam.  This camera is strapped to a tree and pointed toward where the deer are most likely to walk by.   He takes it out into the woods and after much debate and deep consideration of many other factors,  he chooses a spot.  The one that he thinks it will get the best photos of what is lurking in the woods when he is not looking.  It gets put out long before the season starts just so he can get a feel of what is out there. (this year a woman and her dogs kept walking by his trail cam so that area had to be abandoned and he had to find a new "ideal" place to put it).  He religiously goes out to get the memory card every week or so.  He will come into the house with it in his hand announcing how many pictures have been triggered since the last time he looked.  He puts it into his laptop and then he starts yelling  "Look at this"  from the other room.  I stand there as a good wife should and look at picture after picture of deer that seem alike to me.  "Look at his neck" he will say. "Oh wow!" I exclaim, mustering all the enthusiasm that I can.

But since I lack the ability to really appreciate the picture in front of me,  Matt will have to make a phone call to Eric, Denny or Jeff, or possibly all three.  Then much discussion will ensue about his neck size, amount of points and if he can be lured to come to the bait pile at the right time. This will also be relooked at and discussed anytime one of the three are at our house.

Which brings us to another important component of the hunt....bait.  Now it is legal to bait the deer into the spot where you want to hunt them.  Everywhere you look around here there are sugar beets, apples and carrots for sale.

There is bait for sale at party stores, gas stations and even in front of the grocery store and a furniture resale.

 Anywhere you go, you can buy deer bait without having to inconvenience yourself in the least bit.  I even saw a bag of acorns for sale.   Apparently deer love them.  And they were going for $6.00 a bag to boot.

The next thing is what scares me most about hunting.  Not the guns, but the tree stands.  How am I to believe that you can haul yourself out of bed at the crack of dawn, go out in the woods, climb into a tree and situate yourself on this little seat and platform and sit there for hours on end safely?   So if you don't fall asleep and jerk awake and fall out, how are you suppose to keep your balance while shooting your weapon of choice while adrenaline is coursing though your body?  And I am suppose to believe that everyone straps themselves in safety?  I am an emergency room nurse, I know better.  I ask Matt "what if you fall out?"  He just replies, "I won't."  So to keep my sanity, I believe him.

Speaking of guns and bows.  Most hunters seem to prefer one or the other.  But then there is the "super hunter" like my husband who likes to hunt with what ever weapon is in season.  

First is a bow and arrow.  This comes into play when bow season starts in October.  This is actually Matts preferred way to hunt.

 This also involves a beat up, ugly styrofoam deer that sits in my yard for target practice.  I don't know how many times people have looked out my kitchen window and said "look at the deer standing in your yard."   I don't know how many times I have looked out the window and said to myself "there is a deer standing in my yard."  It is very difficult to draw back the string of the bow so practice must start months before the season so that you can build up the proper arm strength.

The next thing is the firearm.  Shot gun, rifle, muzzle loader.  It is legal to hunt with a rifle here, apparently not everywhere.  But if you use a rifle there is the long and laborious process of the "sighting in".  It is an all day event in this household,  which usually involves a trip up to Matts Dad's.   Not only does rifle have to be sighted in, but it must be properly maintained and cleaned.  It also needs to be discussed at great length with other rifle owners when you are out to dinner, at the grocery store or getting gasoline.

Then there is the hunting wardrobe.  Camo of course, but what kind?  Mossy Oak?  Mossy Oak Real Tree, or how about Mossy Oak Breakup?  Scent lock apparel is apparently the way to go, but expensive I hear.  Just step into Dunhams in Alpena.  The camo there will make you want to have a seizure.  There is also the proper boots, ones to keep your feet warm, but not too warm.

 The moisture wicking socks are important too.  And the gloves.  And the hat, don't forget the hat.  And, above all else, it must all be scent free.   This is achieved by keeping all of your hunting clothes in the designated hunting clothes spot in the back of the garage.  It also means you must wash your clothes with scent free detergent.  If any of it is put into the dryer, the Bounce Bar has to be removed.   Then a week or so before hunting season starts, your clothes must be draped on poles previously used for hanging flowers.

 They have to be rained on and dried in the wind so that they smell like the great outdoors and nothing like civilization.  You must dress in the garage before you leave and then undress there when you get home to keep human smells to a minimum.  This of course means that for all of the fall you don't wear deodorant and you must wash yourself and your clothes with special soap.

 Apparently deer have an amazing sense of smell.   And this too involves great amounts of discussion amongst the hunters on the phone, when out to dinner, while in the store and while posting trail cam pictures on Facebook.

All of this prep prepares the hunter for opening day.  That holiday where trash is not picked up and children have the day off of school (in the name of safety, of course).   This also means another sacred ritual for hunters....Deer Camp.  This is where a bunch of guys get together to "hunt". They also eat loads of food, drink lots of beer and get up at the crack of dawn to go and sit out in the freezing cold all day long.  This is the best time to shoot your deer according to my resident expert.    This is what they have been waiting for all year.  This is the culmination of all the preparations previously described come to fruition.  This is where my dedicated husband patiently waited for the big buck  to show himself.  The one who's head would proudly be displayed on the wall.   This is also where he saw a couple of squirrels and a really pretty fox.  This is also where he got to spend time with the"guys" and had a great time even though there was no 10 point strapped to the back of the truck when he came home.

But hunting season isn't over yet.  Gun season stretches until November 30th.  Then it is Muzzle Loader, which depending on your region, starts around December 5th and lasts till the 14th or so.  And in there bow season starting again December 1st until the end of the year.  Which means for the multi-tasker you can hunt with both a bow and a gun.   Then, to the relief of many its all over until next October.  

So, Saturday night,  Matt arrives home after three full days of hunting, hanging with his friends, eating good food, walking miles and miles and miles in the woods.  I have a delicious home cooked meal warming in the oven, clean sheets on our cozy bed that he has missed while sleeping in a camper.  A hot shower is calling for him because he hasn't been in one since he left.  He gives me a hug and kiss and tells me how glad he is to be home and how much he misses me.  Good, I think to myself.  I will have his undivided attention all day, certainly he has had his fill of hunting.  So he asks me "what are you doing tomorrow?"  "Not sure" I say, thinking that he hopes my day is free so that he can spend it with me.  As I start to make a mental list of all the things we can do with a free Sunday he says "I was thinking about going hunting"......

Rain, Rain, Go Away

It has been raining, all fall, I think.  I can't remember when it wasn't raining.....maybe Sunday....I don't remember.  In fact, it has rained so much that our outdoor furniture hasn't gotten put away yet.  Because every time Matt and I have an opportunity to do it, yes, you guessed it, it's raining.

 So, today I had to drive to Alpena to take my mom to the doctor.  

She has been a bit under the weather (go figure).  Thankfully, she is feeling better and we don't have to come back to see Dr. Frank for two months.  Of course,  I bring my mom back to Turning Brook to find my dad with bloodshot eyes and a terrible cold.    He told me he is fine and doesn't have a cold and did I get him any tickets......

So, as I was getting ready to leave, I picked up my camera case to put it into the car.  Then I put it down. I figured that there would be absolutely nothing to take a picture of in this damp, depressing weather. I have been wanting to experiment with shooting photographs in the RAW mode and to use the new photo editing tool that I recently purchased.  I have been watching numerous YouTube videos and waiting for the right opportunity to get some pictures to experiment with.  And then I thought that I should make myself take some photos in these less than ideal conditions and see what I could come up with.  So here they are....some are okay.  But I guess you can't learn unless you get out there.  

I also stopped at the Harrisville State Park and got some pictures there too.

I guess that is the challenge in photography.  Trying to create something beautiful out of something ordinary.  I know I have a lot to learn.  There are a lot of awesome photographers out there, many right here in Oscoda.  I just want to be able to take the beauty I see here and create a photograph that is able to convey that to whom ever looks at it.  I want to be able to do that even if it is raining outside.   Prior to moving up north I think my camera had been put away for close to a year.  So get ready to come along with me on this learning journey....my camera has come out of the closet.