traveling up and down the blind highway

For years, my daughter Ruth and I would stand back to back to measure our height and see who was the taller. For years, I was inches taller as Ruth would stand on tip toes, wear thick soled shoes and pull on my arm to measure up.
Last week measured ourselves again. To my chagrin, I was the shorter one.
“Are you in heels?”
“No Mom, I am in stocking feet.”
I stretched but I was on the shorter end of the measuring. When did this happen?
“Mom, You have both hips replaced and you had a broken pelvis.”
I had noticed my pants were hanging over my shoes. I was shrinking!.. My old bones were brittle and broke easily. Each break shrank my my height. At one time, I was just shy of 5′ 7”. Using the measuring tape, Ruth reported I was a mere 5′ 3”. “Four inches!” how did this happen?
This was a wake up call to exercise and take my extra calcium. Remembering both my parents and grand parents, I vowed to keep my bones healthy. These old bones must serve me for a little longer.

Bones

“Them bones, them bones, them dry bones”
Hear the work of the Lord
Da head bone connected to da neck bone.
Da neck bone connected to da shoulder bone.
Da shoulder bone connected to da chest bone.
Da chest bone is connected to da rib bones.
Da rib bones connected to da back bone.
Da back bone connected to da hip bone
Da hip connected to da leg bone.
Da leg bone connected to da ankle bone.
Da ankle connected to da foot bone.
See the work of the Lord”
Old Negro Spiritual

my bones are old, dry.
Soft spacers between spinal are flatten.
bone rubs bone in the column.
I feel the rub.
I stretch and I am glad I can.

carolaspot@aol.com.
February 27, 2023

Most stories have a beginning, a middle and an ending. John came home from the rehab center on Tuesday afternoon. Tired and thin, He stood to give me a large hug.
“It’s good not to be tethered.”
“What do you mean?”
John smiled ,”I tried to leave the floor twice.”
I looked at the bracelet on his wrist. It was a tracking devise.
“How many times did you attempt to leave?”
Shrugging, he remarked,”Several, I lost count.”
He added,”I wanted to come home to you.”
I was happy to have him home, but worried he would have an adverse reaction to the new drug. I wondered if Ruth and I could handle an outburst. I witnessed two such outbursts in the center. I heard second hand about three others. Putting my trust in the doctors and my husband, I welcomed him home.
The first challenged was ordering and getting prescriptions filled. Ruth had changed drugs to Amazon pharmacy to have the drugs mailed to our home . The hospital sent the first bath to our local Meijer. Ruth had to drive to the store twice to fill all of the prescriptions.
The next task was to place the drugs in pill holders that were labeled morning and evening . Several of the pills were the same size and shape., making it it difficult for me to help.
Ruth sorted the pills, allowing me to feel the size and shape of each pill. After the initial thirty days, all of the prescriptions will be transferred to our
Amazon account.
With Ruth’s assistance, I have a Shiptt account to order groceries and have them delivered to our front door. Working with the website, I can scroll through a list of groceries and select items we need.
On Monday, I will pay the housekeeper online. including a tip for good service.
We have friends and neighbors that are helping with snow removal and rolling the trash to the end of the drive. Quite a price to regain our independence. Thanks to all who helped us along this journey.

Getting By

“I get by with a little help from my friends.” John Lennon

I call a friend to no to chat but to ask for some flour.
I ran out in the middle of making quiche.
I order a razor so John can shave safely.
Friends bring meals to augment our meals.
Many distant friends offer support and prayers for recovery.
I am grateful for the help from our family and friends.
carolaspot@aol.com February 20, 2023

Going through my email, I am often struck by the minor complaints and worries that bloggers write about. Now as I reflect on the last few weeks and wonder what changes I will see in John as he heals, I am the one who will share.
John went through heart surgery to repair his valve, then the next day he had a series of surface strokes on both sides of his brain. Though I did therapy with stroke victims in my past professional life, and had my own experience recovering from a stroke, it did not prepare me for the emotional outbursts and mood swings that have affected John. There were days when I wanted to double check the room number to see if I had the correct person. As a wife, I have tried to take the brunt of the verbal abuse and anger.
Yesterday, John should have expected Ruth and I at lunch time. Ruth knocked at the door as John was wrapping a call.
“I guess the marriage is over.” John spoke into the phone. As we left the room, my daughter burst into tears. I wrapped my arms around her to comfort her the best that I could.
“But mom, I saw the angry facial expression he had.” What could I say? I could only hear the inflection and the harsh dismissal from his room. We stopped at the nurse’s station to leave the clothes and treats. Glancing at her phone Ruth read aloud
“You can come back but leave your mom outside.” I spent the time checking my email and Ruth returned.
“Dad thinks that you are challenging his perspective and his therapy.” I had asked several questions, but only to clarify what was said and to make sure that I heard correctly. A kindly doctor then approached, introducing himself.
“I am Dr. Harriss. I think your husband had a bad reaction to one of his medications and that drug is still in his system affecting his moods” He then suggested that I could take a break from visiting John for a day or so. I had visited for the last seventeen days in a row. So today I am staying home and wondering how Ruth’s visit is going. I guess I will find out soon enough.

Perspectives
I am reminded of the play,”Our Town”by Wilder
In the scene at the funeral, Emily Wilder takes her place among the dead. She longs to relive a day.
The dead warn her to pick a normal day. She picks her twelfth birthday.
Trying to get the attention of her mother and her father. The day spins too rapidly.
Finally Emily asks to return to the grave. She laments,
“The living don’t see all the lost moments, how wonderful life is.”
I am reminded to be mindful for each day I am given. I hope the same for you.

carolaspot@aol.com February 13, 2023

Stress will produce strange reactions in a person’s body. Some people break out in hives. Others have memory lapses. Still others have a meltdown. I have butterfingers.
At first I thought my hand was weak from overuse and fatigue. In the past week, I have dropped several items. The first incident occurred drinking my evening tea. The ringing phone startled me. I dropped my favorite mug. I was tired and ready to go to bed. Instead, I found the broom and dustpan to start the cleanup. A blind person listens to the sound of the broken pieces swept into the pan. Working in a clockwise pattern, I start to sweep the room from the outside to the interior. Broken ceramic travels a distance on a tile floor. Hearing the crunch of pottery underfoot, I would back up to clean farther. Gradually, I cornered most of the larger pieces. Finding several smaller slivers of the porcelain stuck to the bottom of my slippers, I thought “What can I do?”
My tired brain came up with a solution: let the Roomba vacuum the area. I pushed the button after closing most of the rooms not affected. After removing my hearing aids, I went to bed.
In the morning, I found the kitchen free of most of the slivers of glass. Normally, I walk barefooted feeling the different surfaces with my feet. I congratulated myself on my problem solving abilities.
Two days later, I spilled a container of crackers on the kitchen floor. The crackers traveled to the far corners of the room. I picked up the larger pieces but had smaller pieces and salt to sweep. I turned to the Roomba to assist. Blocking the exits, I turned the robot loose to power clean the floor. After an hour, I pushed the button to signal the Roomba to return to the docking base.
Last evening, cleaning a kitchen cabinet, I spilled a small container of sugar. The top was loose and it dropped. This mess was smaller but it took time and the assistance of the Roomba to complete the task.
“What is wrong with me?”
Then it hit me. All of the incidents occurred when I was tired and ready for bed. I would not be able to sweep up the messes without assistance. The broken cup presented a safety challenge. I was glad I had the equipment to do the cleanup.
“What do other blind persons do?”
I vaguely recalled the housekeeping training at the rehab center. We were to clean our room and the bathroom. The room was square and had few pieces of furniture to clean around. My hearing loss made it difficult to hear the sweepings in the dustpan. My best solution is to sleep when I am tired and not over-stress myself.
“Butter anyone?”

Butterfingers

Burning the cooked egg,
Utensils fly from my grasp.
Too many items on my mind.
Time to take a break.
Each person has a limit.
Realizing this is nothing new.
Feeling better,
I turn to clean the stove.
Nearly touching the hot burner.
Gently I feel for the pan.
Edging the items from the stove.
Realizing I have to be careful.
Sight or not.

carolaspot@aol.com February 6, 2023

Over the last year, I have been recovering from a stroke. I have experienced lapses in memory, word recall, and retrieving items. I will walk into a room then have no clue what I wanted. I retrace my steps to find the memory thread. To get items kept in a same drawer now on a shelf. My husband, John, recently had a stroke. He already had some short term memory issues. It makes life interesting.
Last week John had open heart surgery. Afterwards, the doctors kept him sedated to allow his heart to recover. I wonder if I will see more thought and memory issues as he recovers.
I stayed alone in my home while John had surgery. I had to be mindful what I was doing and where I was going in and around the house.
For example, I put on shoes with treads to feed the squirrels. The deck was slick with ice. Tossing the sunflower seeds over the porch’s edge, I returned to the safety of the kitchen. I will not try to make my way to the mailbox. One of my neighbors can be asked to bring me the mail.
Last evening, I made my way downstairs to the washer and dryer area. I found the water on one side of the washer was disconnected. Only the hot water was on. The level of the water was on the lowest setting. Playing with the knobs, I finally got the load washed. Bringing the wash upstairs was another problem. Balancing the basket several steps above my step, I rested the clothes and lifted the basket one step at a time.
My mental map of the house doesn’t match what I remember from a year ago, especially if a piece of furniture has been moved. Before going into the hospital, John decided to move his La-Z-Boy and couch in the front room. I travel around the room daily to recall where items are now located.
After pulling several glass pie dishes off a high shelf and hitting my head with one, I learned to move all heavy glass pie pans to the basement for storage.
So now, I will wait and see what adjustments John and I will make to our lifestyles. As one friend remarked, “Aging is not for the weak.”
With love and a bit of laughter, we will learn skills anew.

Senior Time
Pausing
I stop half way to remember where I am heading.
Finding myself in my office to find I have forgotten what I wanted.
I retrace my steps to the starting point to start anew.
Taking a moment, I wonder where the winding key for the clock went.
More than a senior moment, these are minutes.
“Now where did I leave my slippers?”

Carolfarn@aol.com January 30, 2023

Here in western lower peninsula of Michigan, we have had two snow falls of over 20 inches each. In between the snow has melted away. We are accustomed to snow on the ground from January till mid April. Not so this year.
In my home town of Northville, The area on the east side of the state was referred to as the Swiss Alps of Wayne county. Glaciers left deposits of sand, gravel and dirt, forming the hills surrounding the town. From one hill, you can glimpse the tall buildings of Detroit 24 miles away.
My dad tells a story about skiing with his sister Marian holding onto tow ropes, while their mother drove down the deserted Edward Hines Parkway.
I recall wading through waist deep snow to take cookie orders for my girl scout troop. The pity factor was in my favor. I sold over 100 boxes.
Near the Horse race track, the local recreation dept. flooded the small parking lot to form an ice skating rink. It had lighting for skating after dark.My whole family skated. I was embarrassed because I had hand me down hockey skates. My skates were black instead of the white figure skates like the other girls wore. To get them to fit, I had to wear two pairs of heavy socks.
There were several sledding hills in the parkway. My favorite was at the end of Eaton drive. If you slid too far the hill ended at a spring that never froze. The water hazard lent excitement to the run.
The parkway also boasted a toboggan run. Whole families would race down the steep hill, to slide into hay bales to help them stop.
The former site of a tuberculosis treatment center became the Mayberry State Park. The wooded paved paths were perfect for cross country skiing. I would drive to the park to ski from the staff entrance. Often ,I would have the park to myself in the early dawn.
This year, people can take walks without worries about slipping on the ice and snow. Perhaps there is some truth to global warning.

Alone with Myself

Morning sun broke over a sparkle filled woods.
Carrying my poles and skis, I searched for a place to sit.
A long fallen trunk offered a purchase.
Jamming my poles into the drift, I slipped on one ski then the other.
I stood with the help of the poles, ready to push off.
The rhythm of the skis gliding made a soft swish in the quiet of the day.
My mind was free to ponder as long trained muscles took up the remembered cadence of moving.
I saw the low hanging branch and swerved to the right.
Snow and ice crackled underfoot as I crested the rise.
Tucking my poles under my arms, I raced down the hill to the pond.
The clear, smooth surface called to me.
I turned away fearing I would break through.
Instead, I rested to let my breathing slow and listen to the sound of my pulse in my ears.
Worried thinking vanished as I joined nature awakening to the sunrise.
I breathed long gulps of chilly air.
Renewed in body, mind and spirit.

Carolaspot@aol.com copyright 1-23-2023

In 1983 Ronald Reagan signed a bill to commemorate Martin Luther King’s Day . It was celebrated national wide starting in 1986. Many people are familiar with his famous speech, “I have a Dream.” But what do we know about the rise of this Baptist minister? As a leader in the Civil Rights movement from 1955 to 1965.
As a young man, Martin was greatly influenced by the non-violent resistance practiced by the Indian people to resist British rule and gain their independence. Dr. King sought to resist discrimination with non violent marches, singing and prayers. Many people joined the marches risking imprisonment ,beating and even death to challenge the established norms. Gandhi was imprisoned 13 times. Dr. Martin Luther King was jailed 30 times for non violent resistance protests.
From the Montgomery bus boycott to the march from Selma to Montgomery AL. to protest voting laws. That kept non white voters from registering to vote.
There were other protests before this. On March 1st 1965, 600 people participated in the first of three marches towards the state capital. They were turned back before crossing the The Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma Al. The first march was attended by over 50 priests, ministers and other clergy. It was chronicled in the writings of Fr. Thomas Carroll in his correspondence.
“Fifty of us clergy rode a bus from Boston to Selma. We were met by parishioners to feed and house the group. When we lined up in the early morning, I knew that my 6 foot, four inch height and my collar would make a prime target for snipers. We walked in a tight formation , singing, We shall Overcome We followed Dr. Martin Luther King Jr to the start of the bridge into Selma. Halted by the Alabama National Guard, I noted hate in the eyes of the guards. Dr King knelt to pray for the police and the people of Alabama. I couldn’t kneel due to an injured leg. Bending low, I continue to imagine my head in a rifle sight. Young boys, circulated through the marchers informing us to turn around after the prayer. I was never so scared and elated to return to the bus.”
I think of this day of service and know that I will not be putting myself in harms way. But The spirit of Dr. King reminds me to be mindful while I read books to children at the local library, cleaning the cafeteria or pack lunches at the children food basket. Working with others to build community will last more than one day.
So what are you going to do to promote change where you live? Then do it! One day at a time.

Step by Step

Step by step we walk arm in arm with others.
Winds of change are in the air.
Opening our eyes, we truly see each other.
Masks fall away as the true self is revealed.
With mindfulness, we smile at the stranger.
Looking into their eyes we glimpse ourselves.

carolaspot@aol.com copyright 1/16/2023

This time of the year is filled with dark cloudy days. Cold blasts roll from Lake Michigan to deposit freezing rain or snow, depending on the temperature.
I long for the occasional glimpse of a hazy sun behind clouds. Daylight last less than eight hours a day. When I had daylight driving restrictions, I would drive to and from work as soon as I could see. I would experience daylight only on the weekends.
Though I no longer see true light, the memory of day after day of dark filled precipitation , promotes melancholy in my actions. Usually, I can imagine a warmer and brighter world. Today I am at a loss to know day from night. My family and friends wonder how I know the difference. I must listen to hear the chirping of birds at the feeder or barking of squirrels , waiting their turn at the water trough.
The weather person has predicted a sunny weekend. I will sit on my porch and feel the sun’s warmth to recharging my mental batteries. Storing the sun in my face, I am ready for another string of cloudy days. January can’t last more than thirty one days.

Clouds and Sun

“What are you doing?”
I turn to the voice and smile.
“I am feeling the warmth of the sun.”
“It is below freezing!”
Still smiling, I reply,”I can feel the sun.”
“How do you feel clouds?”
Thinking before I reply,”I feel the frozen moisture in the air.”
We both sit to feel the day.

carolaspot@aol.com January 9th 2023

Happy New Year’s Day to all my readers. I wish to thank you for taking a virtual flight on Blind on the lite side. It is hard to believe that I am begining my 5th year as a blogger. Whether you are an occasional traveler or a regular visiter, I wish to thank you for making my blog a part of your weekly schedule. I will do my best to amuse, inform and entertain you in 2023.
For my husband and myself, New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day was a time to retire early. John worked on the equipment that sorted the mail. This was a time to do maintenance of the equipment. His work hours were 6 am to 3:30 pm. Often, he would volunteer to work holidays so others could enjoy the day with their families. We were in bed by 8:30 pm.
Not so with John’s mom and our daughter Ruth. For many years we would host a sleep over for a half dozen of Ruth’s friends. They would have special snacks and sparkling juice toasting the new year at midnight.
Grandma helped by buying noisemakers and legal fireworks for the girls to use to welcome the new year. They decorated the trees in our backyard with rolls of cheap toilet paper and confetti poppers. The only request, was to help with cleanup before they left on January first.
Grandma’s family had hosted a New Year’s party for many years. Hosting the party for Ruth’s friends brought fond memories and created others.
One year, John bought fireworks that shot up in the air. He lined them up on our back stone wall. That year, we had a covering of snow to prevent the dry leaves from starting a fire.
With Grandma gone and Ruth moved into her own home, John and I may watch the ball drop in Times Square after the last of the Christmas movies we love. I find I fall asleep cuddled next to john on the couch. We remind each other of good times from past years. Toasting the next year with non-alcoholic wine. We will raise a glass to all our family and friends on this night. May 2023 b e a blessed year for all of us.

Out With the Old, In with the New

Opening my closet, I remove clothes that no longer fit. Matching tops and bottoms to find outfits. I search the desk drawers to discard unwanted items.
I bag useful items for the resale shop. Old magazines and papers are place in the bin
They will be recycled as insulation in walls.
Slowly I am downsizing my possessions, offering them to family and friends.
I came into this world with nothing and I will take nothing with me, only the love of others and a life well lived.
Carol Farnsworth Jan. 2023 copyrighted 2023

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Christmas Rockies were the last cookie selection I made this year. This a favorite of the whole family. It is filled with walnuts and dates. John talks of his Grandmother Helen making small loaves of a bread. For years, he thought this was fruit cake. Now, we make cookies instead of the cakes.
We have made another cookie, named Chinese Stony’s . These were a round hard ball of dough. The recipe made many dozen of the small hard balls. John jokes that he and his brothers fed the last of these morsels to their dog. Mike, a mixed breed mutt was always hungry. The boys tossed the unwanted cookies until Mike’s belly was distended and he could hold no more.
The Christmas Rockies resembled small rocky hills. They remained soft and chewy until they were gone.
One of my Mother’s friends always sent her a gift of special dates for the holidays. Half of the dates were dusted with powder sugar. The other half were dates stuffed with a large pecans. I have associated this treat with Christmas for years.
Attached is the audio file for the last holiday cookie. Enjoy the aromas and tastes of the season. Talk to family and friends to hear about their special holiday food memories. A taffy pull anyone?.

carolaspot@aol.com 12-26-22