The other day my mom told me her cleaning person took her shoes! I went to investigate to find one of every pair of shoes missing! I asked my mom if her cleaning person had one leg? She looked at me puzzled. I said well why would she only want one? She replied well she will come back to get the other one shoe of the pair next time she comes to clean.
I found a trash bag in my mom's closet with all of the missing shoes! :)
Friday, October 9, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Ireland Barry Maher
Many of my father's fondest memories were of his early childhood in
Ballyglunnin in County Galway, Ireland. He lived in a castle, he told us,
and learned to love learning in a tiny, one room school. Castle or no
castle, once in the states, his mother cleaned houses; his father
was a laborer. Through their efforts, my father became the first Maher to complete
high school and then college, at Notre Dame. I still have the letter he
wrote his parents when he was accepted at Harvard Law School.
"From housecleaning to Harvard in a single generation," he'd
say later. He loved America for that. Still, his life was hardly easy.
He nearly died during WWII, and lost a wife and two children within a year.
Later, three other children would die. Those of us that reached adulthood
did so with the best educations money could buy; and he raised a company
president, two corporate vice presidents, a doctor, a telecommunications
executive, an myself. He always dreamed of returning to visit Ballyglunnin, but
with all that educating to do, there was never the time, never the money.
The only time I ever saw my father cry was when we, his children,
bought him that trip to Ireland for his 80th birthday. One of my
sisters and I were looking forward to traveling with him, but unfortunately- though he'd
been practicing law up to a few months before-his health deteriorated
rapidly and Alzheimers disease set in. Soon he didn't even recognize us. The
trip never happened.
Then a couple of years, for no discernible reason my book,
Filling the Glass, took off in Ireland, and I was booked on a speaking tour
there I was determined to visit Ballyglunnin, the castle and the one room
school, but my schedule was tight.
The Irish have developed a reputation as the world's greatest hosts, a reputation that turned out to be actually true rather than just marketing hype. Even though I wasn't really a tourist, I was immersed in that
hospitality. At engagements I was treated more like a guest rather than someone they were paying to speak. There were dinners and receptions and "must see" sights to be seen. All of which left me only one day for
Ballyglunnin.
I set off for the tiny hamlet with several sets of complex directions and three conflicting maps. Every time I stopped and asked for directions I was embraced like a long lost relative, but, though a few
people had heard of Ballyglunnin, no one was quite sure where it was. I must
have bounced along every back road in County Galway, but none of
them led to Ballyglunnin. The next morning, in Galway City, I spoke of my father during my
final presentation, and I mentioned in passing what had happened the day
before. At the luncheon afterwards, I was finishing up my lasagna-
which seems to be a particular Irish favorite-and thinking about heading upstairs
to my room to pack. That's when the CEO announced, "Mr. Maher, your
car has arrived, complete with the savviest driver in all of Ireland." Less
than two hours later, the limo, myself, the CEO. and a local Member of
Parliament pulled into Ballyglunnin. The locals decided I was a returning hero, and
took us on a tour of the village, the old one-room schoolhouse, and
the"castle," an aging, rather modest resort hotel where my grandfather
had run a small shop. But a castle indeed to any seven year old.
The real highlight of the trip came upon my return. Though my
father hadn't recognized me in over a year, when I showed him my
photos of the school and the "castle," his cloudy eyes slowly cleared. Then those eyes met mine.
"Ireland," he said softly. "Thanks, Barry, for Ireland."
I thank the Irish for Ireland, particularly the kind souls who gave
me Ballyglunnin.
> Author, speaker, Barry Maher, www.barrymaher.com, has appeared on the Today Show, NBC Nightly News, CNBC and he's frequently featured in publications that range from the New York Times, the
> Wall Street Journal, the London Times, Business Week and USA Today to-his personal
favorite-Funeral Services Insider. His books include Filling the Glass, which has been cited as
"[One of] The Seven Essential Popular Business Books," by Today's Librarian along with books like The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People and The One Minute Manager.
> Barry Maher
My website is www.barrymaher.com. "Copyright, 2008, Barry Maher, adapted from No Lie: Truth Is the Ultimate Sales Tool, used by permission."
Ballyglunnin in County Galway, Ireland. He lived in a castle, he told us,
and learned to love learning in a tiny, one room school. Castle or no
castle, once in the states, his mother cleaned houses; his father
was a laborer. Through their efforts, my father became the first Maher to complete
high school and then college, at Notre Dame. I still have the letter he
wrote his parents when he was accepted at Harvard Law School.
"From housecleaning to Harvard in a single generation," he'd
say later. He loved America for that. Still, his life was hardly easy.
He nearly died during WWII, and lost a wife and two children within a year.
Later, three other children would die. Those of us that reached adulthood
did so with the best educations money could buy; and he raised a company
president, two corporate vice presidents, a doctor, a telecommunications
executive, an myself. He always dreamed of returning to visit Ballyglunnin, but
with all that educating to do, there was never the time, never the money.
The only time I ever saw my father cry was when we, his children,
bought him that trip to Ireland for his 80th birthday. One of my
sisters and I were looking forward to traveling with him, but unfortunately- though he'd
been practicing law up to a few months before-his health deteriorated
rapidly and Alzheimers disease set in. Soon he didn't even recognize us. The
trip never happened.
Then a couple of years, for no discernible reason my book,
Filling the Glass, took off in Ireland, and I was booked on a speaking tour
there I was determined to visit Ballyglunnin, the castle and the one room
school, but my schedule was tight.
The Irish have developed a reputation as the world's greatest hosts, a reputation that turned out to be actually true rather than just marketing hype. Even though I wasn't really a tourist, I was immersed in that
hospitality. At engagements I was treated more like a guest rather than someone they were paying to speak. There were dinners and receptions and "must see" sights to be seen. All of which left me only one day for
Ballyglunnin.
I set off for the tiny hamlet with several sets of complex directions and three conflicting maps. Every time I stopped and asked for directions I was embraced like a long lost relative, but, though a few
people had heard of Ballyglunnin, no one was quite sure where it was. I must
have bounced along every back road in County Galway, but none of
them led to Ballyglunnin. The next morning, in Galway City, I spoke of my father during my
final presentation, and I mentioned in passing what had happened the day
before. At the luncheon afterwards, I was finishing up my lasagna-
which seems to be a particular Irish favorite-and thinking about heading upstairs
to my room to pack. That's when the CEO announced, "Mr. Maher, your
car has arrived, complete with the savviest driver in all of Ireland." Less
than two hours later, the limo, myself, the CEO. and a local Member of
Parliament pulled into Ballyglunnin. The locals decided I was a returning hero, and
took us on a tour of the village, the old one-room schoolhouse, and
the"castle," an aging, rather modest resort hotel where my grandfather
had run a small shop. But a castle indeed to any seven year old.
The real highlight of the trip came upon my return. Though my
father hadn't recognized me in over a year, when I showed him my
photos of the school and the "castle," his cloudy eyes slowly cleared. Then those eyes met mine.
"Ireland," he said softly. "Thanks, Barry, for Ireland."
I thank the Irish for Ireland, particularly the kind souls who gave
me Ballyglunnin.
> Author, speaker, Barry Maher, www.barrymaher.com, has appeared on the Today Show, NBC Nightly News, CNBC and he's frequently featured in publications that range from the New York Times, the
> Wall Street Journal, the London Times, Business Week and USA Today to-his personal
favorite-Funeral Services Insider. His books include Filling the Glass, which has been cited as
"[One of] The Seven Essential Popular Business Books," by Today's Librarian along with books like The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People and The One Minute Manager.
> Barry Maher
My website is www.barrymaher.com. "Copyright, 2008, Barry Maher, adapted from No Lie: Truth Is the Ultimate Sales Tool, used by permission."
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
The Stealthy Dad
Submitted by Elise
Throughout his life, my father 'liberated' things from restaurants, hotels, airlines, cruise ships, etc. (I inherited what is probably The largest collection of hotel and airline flatware and napkins in the universe). He was Very good at it (read: stealthy), and no one ever noticed; it even became a running joke between us whenever we'd be at a hotel together. After the memory loss started, he stayed at my mother's apartment one time so she could take him to his doctor's appointments, and my mother brought him to join me for lunch at a restaurant in my neighborhood. During lunch, my dad picked up one of the restaurant's logo coffee mugs, admired it, and said "this is a nice mug- I'd like to steal it!" Aghast, I said, "Papa, they sell the mugs! If you want one, tell me and I'll buy it!". He bellowed back "I didn't say I wanted you to BUY the damn thing! I said it was a nice mug to Steal!" At that point, horrified, both my mother & I watched him like a hawk. Later that evening my mother called me, laughing, and told me that when she took him back to his apt. and unzipped his overnight bag, there was the mug, right on top! We have NO idea how he did it, but he Was good!!!
Throughout his life, my father 'liberated' things from restaurants, hotels, airlines, cruise ships, etc. (I inherited what is probably The largest collection of hotel and airline flatware and napkins in the universe). He was Very good at it (read: stealthy), and no one ever noticed; it even became a running joke between us whenever we'd be at a hotel together. After the memory loss started, he stayed at my mother's apartment one time so she could take him to his doctor's appointments, and my mother brought him to join me for lunch at a restaurant in my neighborhood. During lunch, my dad picked up one of the restaurant's logo coffee mugs, admired it, and said "this is a nice mug- I'd like to steal it!" Aghast, I said, "Papa, they sell the mugs! If you want one, tell me and I'll buy it!". He bellowed back "I didn't say I wanted you to BUY the damn thing! I said it was a nice mug to Steal!" At that point, horrified, both my mother & I watched him like a hawk. Later that evening my mother called me, laughing, and told me that when she took him back to his apt. and unzipped his overnight bag, there was the mug, right on top! We have NO idea how he did it, but he Was good!!!
Sunday, September 6, 2009
The Piano-- and the sunnier side
Submitted by Wendy....
My grandmother passed away 8 years ago. She had alzheimers. My sister and I were her primary care-givers since both of our parents (her son) were ill. Our father (her son) passed away two year prior to her passing and our mom died 3 weeks to the day after she died, but was ill and confined to a wheelchair before our fathers' passing.
There are so many stories that if you didn't laugh, you would cry 100% of the time. It is a horrible disease that I would not wish on anyone, but it allowed us to get extremely close, unconditionally, to our grandma. When it got close to the end, she had become non-responsive to any of the nurses at the nursing home. I was there for lunch with her every day and then Linda, my sister, and I would go every night at dinner and spend time with her after. I walked in one afternoon and went over to Grandma sitting in her wheelchair, her eyes closed, and said, "Hi Grandma." The nurse came over and touched my arm and said, "Honey, I'm sorry, but she won't answer you, she won't answer anyone anymore." So I bent down and kissed her cheek and again said, "Hello Grandma." She opened her eyes, smiled and said, "Well, Hello there." The nurse just shook her head and said, "It must be love."
She had stopped drinking and no matter what they tried, they could not get her to take a drop of water. So, I wheeled her into her room and took a straw...dipped it into her ice water and held it to her lips...she looked up at me with a smile...opened her lips and started to drink, drop by drop until we finished half the glass. I would sit for hours and brush her hair, wash her face and hands with warm wash cloths and put lotion on. She would ALWAYS look at me with such kind eyes and say Thank you every time.
On a sunnier - funnier side... I played the piano ( very very poorly, I might add.) and the nursing home had a piano in their chapel. Grandma was very active in her church and she loved going to church, so Linda and I wheeled her down to the chapel often. Well, this one particular day we wheeled her down and sat with her and I decided I was going to play a little song for her and maybe do a little singing (now my singing is even worse than my piano playing!!) . So, I began to play and sing. Linda says to Grandma, "Do you want Sissy to keep playing and singing for you?" Without hesitation Grandma yells (and I do mean YELLS) NO, NO, NO!! The worst part of the whole thing...she hadn't spoken a word in over two weeks!!
My grandmother passed away 8 years ago. She had alzheimers. My sister and I were her primary care-givers since both of our parents (her son) were ill. Our father (her son) passed away two year prior to her passing and our mom died 3 weeks to the day after she died, but was ill and confined to a wheelchair before our fathers' passing.
There are so many stories that if you didn't laugh, you would cry 100% of the time. It is a horrible disease that I would not wish on anyone, but it allowed us to get extremely close, unconditionally, to our grandma. When it got close to the end, she had become non-responsive to any of the nurses at the nursing home. I was there for lunch with her every day and then Linda, my sister, and I would go every night at dinner and spend time with her after. I walked in one afternoon and went over to Grandma sitting in her wheelchair, her eyes closed, and said, "Hi Grandma." The nurse came over and touched my arm and said, "Honey, I'm sorry, but she won't answer you, she won't answer anyone anymore." So I bent down and kissed her cheek and again said, "Hello Grandma." She opened her eyes, smiled and said, "Well, Hello there." The nurse just shook her head and said, "It must be love."
She had stopped drinking and no matter what they tried, they could not get her to take a drop of water. So, I wheeled her into her room and took a straw...dipped it into her ice water and held it to her lips...she looked up at me with a smile...opened her lips and started to drink, drop by drop until we finished half the glass. I would sit for hours and brush her hair, wash her face and hands with warm wash cloths and put lotion on. She would ALWAYS look at me with such kind eyes and say Thank you every time.
On a sunnier - funnier side... I played the piano ( very very poorly, I might add.) and the nursing home had a piano in their chapel. Grandma was very active in her church and she loved going to church, so Linda and I wheeled her down to the chapel often. Well, this one particular day we wheeled her down and sat with her and I decided I was going to play a little song for her and maybe do a little singing (now my singing is even worse than my piano playing!!) . So, I began to play and sing. Linda says to Grandma, "Do you want Sissy to keep playing and singing for you?" Without hesitation Grandma yells (and I do mean YELLS) NO, NO, NO!! The worst part of the whole thing...she hadn't spoken a word in over two weeks!!
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Second Dad
Submitted by Wendy...
My stepfather was diagnosed with dementia a few years ago, eventually diagnosed with Alzheimers. Although his decline was gradual, this past year, his disease progressed. As we saw his abilities changing, we began focusing on things that he COULD do, instead of trying to have him do things that were becoming challenging. One of the skills that remained, was Ted's love for giving directions in the car. Although he was no longer driving, I would have him sit in the front seat with me, we would pick a place to go, and he would give me directions how to get there. It became a special time for us to share, and an opportunity for him to get out of the house and (possibly) feel a little more productive.
Another special time between us would be meals, especially dessert time! Ted LOVED ice cream and even though he had a pretty healthy appetite, there would ALWAYS be room for ice cream for dessert!! His eyes would get big and sparkle at just the thought of a special treat coming his way!
I know people experience this disease differently, but whatever can be done to make these people feel special and productive is so helpful to both the person with Alzheimers and their caregivers.
Ted's health declined very rapidly this past spring, and he passed away in May. I miss him terribly, but in the moments that I'm in my car, I can sometimes almost feel him with me, directing me which way to go. In many ways, he was my 'navigator', not just in the car, but in life. I feel very fortunate, after losing my own father many years ago, to have been blessed with my special 'second dad.'
Some people shy away from illness, but I must admit, these last couple of years were the most special between Ted and I. I hope you can also create special experiences and memories for you, as well!
Thumbprints International
www.yourthumbprint.com
My stepfather was diagnosed with dementia a few years ago, eventually diagnosed with Alzheimers. Although his decline was gradual, this past year, his disease progressed. As we saw his abilities changing, we began focusing on things that he COULD do, instead of trying to have him do things that were becoming challenging. One of the skills that remained, was Ted's love for giving directions in the car. Although he was no longer driving, I would have him sit in the front seat with me, we would pick a place to go, and he would give me directions how to get there. It became a special time for us to share, and an opportunity for him to get out of the house and (possibly) feel a little more productive.
Another special time between us would be meals, especially dessert time! Ted LOVED ice cream and even though he had a pretty healthy appetite, there would ALWAYS be room for ice cream for dessert!! His eyes would get big and sparkle at just the thought of a special treat coming his way!
I know people experience this disease differently, but whatever can be done to make these people feel special and productive is so helpful to both the person with Alzheimers and their caregivers.
Ted's health declined very rapidly this past spring, and he passed away in May. I miss him terribly, but in the moments that I'm in my car, I can sometimes almost feel him with me, directing me which way to go. In many ways, he was my 'navigator', not just in the car, but in life. I feel very fortunate, after losing my own father many years ago, to have been blessed with my special 'second dad.'
Some people shy away from illness, but I must admit, these last couple of years were the most special between Ted and I. I hope you can also create special experiences and memories for you, as well!
Thumbprints International
www.yourthumbprint.com
Friday, September 4, 2009
Love Triangle
A heart warming story shared by Ann
We made the gut wrenching decision last week to move my Dad into an Alzheimer's Care facility. It was definitely time. Knowing that makes it no easier. During our frequent visits since, his mood has swung between angry and ugly (his description). The transition has been difficult for all of us with my Dad the only one not losing sleep over it!
So armed with a gallon of chocolate milk, I braced myself for what was sure to be another very tough visit this afternoon. I found him deep into his long afternoon nap, his clothes removed from his closet and neatly piled on his bed. I later learned that he had announced to all early that morning that he was moving out today.
I gently woke him and a huge smile crept across his face as he saw me and reached up to give me a big hug. He had few complaints as we walked down the hall to the dining room to get a glass for his milk. He told me a little about his day, asked about both mine and his grandson and then proceeded to say "I walked all afternoon with a beautiful woman. I think I fell in love."
Only about 25% of what Dad says now comes out coherent and this he stated clear as a bell smiling all the while. "And there she is!", he shouted. At his request, I walked over to the woman he had identified and offered her a glass of his chocolate milk. She eagerly took it and then walked to a table at the other end of the dining room to sit and enjoy it. While my Dad was busy motioning to her to come and join our table, a gentleman rolled his chair up, introduced himself as Joseph and the three of us engaged in conversation.
After several minutes of this, my Dad began more urgent gesturing to Pat, as I learned was her name. Pat finally acquiesced, came over, shook my hand, leaned over to Joseph, kissed him tenderly and said "hello honey". She then turned and walked back to her table while both of her admirers longingly looked on...
Just as we were all so certain that the good stuff of my Dad's life was past, he goes and falls head over heals right into a love triangle! Ahhhh, to both live and to love yet another day...
I will finally sleep good tonight.
http://www.quantumendeavors.com http://wwwyourcorporatesuccess.com
Ann, Many Thanks for sharing!
We made the gut wrenching decision last week to move my Dad into an Alzheimer's Care facility. It was definitely time. Knowing that makes it no easier. During our frequent visits since, his mood has swung between angry and ugly (his description). The transition has been difficult for all of us with my Dad the only one not losing sleep over it!
So armed with a gallon of chocolate milk, I braced myself for what was sure to be another very tough visit this afternoon. I found him deep into his long afternoon nap, his clothes removed from his closet and neatly piled on his bed. I later learned that he had announced to all early that morning that he was moving out today.
I gently woke him and a huge smile crept across his face as he saw me and reached up to give me a big hug. He had few complaints as we walked down the hall to the dining room to get a glass for his milk. He told me a little about his day, asked about both mine and his grandson and then proceeded to say "I walked all afternoon with a beautiful woman. I think I fell in love."
Only about 25% of what Dad says now comes out coherent and this he stated clear as a bell smiling all the while. "And there she is!", he shouted. At his request, I walked over to the woman he had identified and offered her a glass of his chocolate milk. She eagerly took it and then walked to a table at the other end of the dining room to sit and enjoy it. While my Dad was busy motioning to her to come and join our table, a gentleman rolled his chair up, introduced himself as Joseph and the three of us engaged in conversation.
After several minutes of this, my Dad began more urgent gesturing to Pat, as I learned was her name. Pat finally acquiesced, came over, shook my hand, leaned over to Joseph, kissed him tenderly and said "hello honey". She then turned and walked back to her table while both of her admirers longingly looked on...
Just as we were all so certain that the good stuff of my Dad's life was past, he goes and falls head over heals right into a love triangle! Ahhhh, to both live and to love yet another day...
I will finally sleep good tonight.
http://www.quantumendeavors.com http://wwwyourcorporatesuccess.com
Ann, Many Thanks for sharing!
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