the bethany

 My Mom lived in assisted living for maybe 15 years.  She was in her late 80's rambling around in that big old bungalow on Homan Avenue and my sister was living in Kenilworth and she was worried about Mom living so far away, but my mother was adamant about staying in the family manse.

Until she wasn't.  One day, out of the blue she declared that that big old bungalow was too big anymore.  My sister and I checked out a few places and decided on the Bethany which turned out to be a pretty good decision. It was a nice place.  They had activities for the residents, and parties for Christmas.  I loved the Christmas party.  There was a small park in front of the building where, as they began to tell the story of Saint Lucia, if you looked closely you could just make out in the park in the dark of night some very faint lights, moving just a little closer, a little closer as the story of Saint Lucia unfolded and then suddenly

Suddenly they turned on the lights which were in the trees and there in the path was Santa Lucia 

There were some kind of gifts, there was cake, and there was ice cream.  There were Christmas carols, and all that Christmas crappola that make it such a beloved holiday.  After Mom died I wondered if I could just go there by myself.

She could come and go as she pleased, though I think she had to sign out.  They had a mini bus that would take them places like Navy Pier and Margies Candy Store where they all got black cows.  They were living large.  Mom had a full kitchen where she could have cooked her own meals if she chose to.  She did not choose to.  She had been cooking meals her whole life and now she was done with all that.

They had a big dining room where they sat 4 at each table and the food was served to them.  The food was warm and the helpings were ample.  My mother was not all that crazy about the dishes but she always cleaned her plate.

I was subbing then.  I would get home from my gig and get on the Brown Line and off at Damen, a nice little part of the city, looked like it should have a toy train running through it, and walk about a half mile to the Bethany.  Mom would just be finishing her supper and then we would go to this big front room where sometimes the son of one of the residents would play old timey songs on the piano and you could sing along or not.  We would chat a bit about nothing in particular.  Ashland Avenue went by in front of us, and I would ask her, "Mom what street is that," and she would answer serenely.  "Cottage Grove."  She had never lived or worked or visited anybody on Cottage Grove.

I would leave for the Ten Cat after about an hour, feeling like a good son.  It was just a little over a mile to the Ten Cat. A very pleasant and interesting walk I still take sometimes. Jake would usually be at the bar and we would have a seminar.  

And for no other reason then that I love the photo, here is this one.

Still Here

We decided against the move to Geezer City.  It would get us out of the swamp for the winter, but living there would involve more work than living here.  Both of us are trying to make our lives easier, not harder.  Our helper lady has two more clients besides us, and one of them is planning to move away, so we might be able to engage her for more hours per week.  We still plan to move to an assisted living facility if we manage to outlive the people ahead of us on the waiting list.  Assisted living is something between those geezer apartments and a nursing home.  They feed you, do your laundry, and clean your apartment for you.  They also have nursing care available if the time ever comes when you need it and are still alive.  We aren't that far down the road yet, but let's face it, we're not getting any younger. 

All our stuff will remain on the Freehold until such time our daughter decides to sell the property.  Then it will all be hers to dispose of as she sees fit.  She has requested that we put the land in her name before we get too senile to make that decision.  We might do that somewhere down the road, but we're not there yet.  We have owned Beaglesonia since 1986, but we have only lived here since 2000.

We have both tried to minimize our medication.  I take two pills for blood pressure, one for fiber, and one for dizzy spells.  I also use two kinds of prescription eye drops for glaucoma, and another OTC one for dry eyes.  My wife only takes one blood pressure pill and Tylenol.  Different doctors have tried to get us to take more stuff, but we have managed to evade them so far.  We have read that Americans are generally over medicated, and we tend to believe it.  

cormorants.

 

Posted this in fb about a week ago, inspired by this spring's invasion of the Chicago River by cormorants.  Beagles responded:

Cormorants arrived here decades ago. They had not been seen here in living memory, and everybody thought it was a good thing, but it wasn't. They ate up all the fish and pooped them all over the place. Since they were federally protected, it was illegal for even the state DNR to use lethal controls. Fortunately, a loophole was found. They started coating their eggs with vegetable oil. This insured that the eggs would never hatch, but the cormorants didn't know that, so they wasted the whole breeding season trying to hatch them instead of laying more.

The treadmills in the exercise room face south over the river which is good because the treadmill is very boring.  I liked to watch the birds, in this case gulls. To me they kind of knit the city together diving and rising on columns of hot air, beautiful and graceful birds.  

But then a two or three years ago I began to notice other birds flying along the river east to west.  They were darker and  flew like they were in a hurry, no gentle gliding like gulls, they had long necks and looked like Stuka jets.  I googled around and turkey buzzards seemed a likely candidate, this is their turf, about the same size, but the resemblance was a little off.

This year they came in force.  They are native birds and they are in the burbs, but the Chicago River is new territory for them.  Well it was so filthy, and now it is pretty damn clean.  The second annual swim meet in the river is later this year.  

As you know I face the lake and in the mornings I could see them entering the river from the lake and flying in like a fleet of Stukas or those helicopters in Apocalypse Now.  (You could almost hear The Ride of the valkyries.)

Unlike gulls, who are not averse to a handout from a human, the cormorants ignore us completely.  They fly close to river and then dive beneath the surface and chase a fish a considerable distance before they emerge with a glint of silver.

Well I am smitten, but you will notice our county cousin is not.  Well we slickers are inclined to view all pigs as Porky and ducks as Donald.  So adorable.  

Google agrees that they have terrible and acidic poop which can kill trees and weaken steel bridges.  But as for eating fish, not so bad a thing because you are getting rid of old sick fish (just like us) and make way for younger fresher fish (those jerks wearing shorts when the temp is in the teens), culling the herd so to speak.  Nature is cruel.  The rabbit is happy when Mother Nature gives it more hoppity feet to outrun the fox, but not so happy to see her give the fox sharper teeth.  But I know Beagles used to fish the Cheboygan River and bring back dinner and I guess to a fisherman every fish a cormorant catches is one that the fisherman doesn't get to

I guess they are passing through on their migration, and only a few stay all year, though in time like Canada geese have learned, this is a nice town to toddle around in.  In the meantime I will be awaiting their return in the fall.

What's up?

Almost May, two months and a few days away from John Meis's fabulous Fourth of July party in Urbans, brats and beers, and fellowship among my fellow beer drinking buddies.  I am guessing this is the 50th.

I'm not going to give an estimate of the turnout, but back in the day it was two kegs of beer and then a hat was passed around and we got a large car full of beer just before the liquor stores closed.  Anymore I get a case and a half of beer and when I leave there is still beer.

Well as Kurt Vonnegut was fond of saying so it goes.  

I remember a time, maybe when the party was at its one keg and a car almost full of package stage and the conversation drifted to conditions and pills.  Geez-a-loo they were all off and running, everybody was talking about all the pills they take and it sounded like listening to the grandparents talking when I was a kid.  I would never be like that.

Well I guess you guys have a similar pill armada.  Got two new ones with the stent, one of which if I forget to take it for awhile I will be dead, and one that I have to take twice a day.  My memory is not too hot but I can easily remember once a day, but twice a day, a little iffy.

I wonder if Beagles has moved into that swinging geezer apartment building.  How many years did you live in The Freehold?  What happened to all your junk?

Too be honest I was scared to take the Aztec route of Old Dog, and the stent sounded somehow, um, safer.  But now I have to get another stent.  They tell me I will be on the table for four hours and will have to stay overnight.  Shit, when the subject of stents came up I thought I would go in in the morning, out in the afternoon and ready to resume all my bad habits.  Now I have to do cardio rehab for maybe three months.  

Speaking of bad habits.  I was down to maybe one cig a day.  But now none at all.  I fantasize about maybe a year down the road if I am all hunky dory.  Maybe having a puff, but probably not.

Well.

So it goes

   

Water, Water, Everywhere but Here

 Y'all might have heard about all the flooding in Northern Michigan, but you'd never know it looking out our window.  Our water table hit a peak about a week ago, and it's been downhill ever since.  Even at the peak it was no wetter than usual for this time of year.  Turns out that the Freehold is not in the same watershed as the Cheboygan River, which is only two miles away as the crow flies.  All the flooding seems to be concentrated along the waterfronts of our major lakes and rivers, and the Great Beaglesonian Swamp is not directly connected to any of them. 

Last I heard, youse guys both seemed to be recovering nicely from your medical problems.  Hope that is still the case.  My wife and I, not so much.  We are on a waiting list for a local assisted living facility.  When I asked the lady how many people were on the list ahead of us, she couldn't say exactly, but that it didn't matter.  It seems that, when a vacancy occurs, the next several people in line are often dead, so we could move up very quickly.  Meanwhile, our daughter has found a geezer friendly apartment complex close by in town.  They have a vacancy right now, and we are going to look at it on Friday.  It's not the same thing as assisted living, but at least it would provide us with a safe haven for this winter. 

April Fool

"It could be worse"

No kidding!  On March 31st the Aztec priests took me to the top of the pyramid, raised their obsidian knives to the heavens and tore out my heart.  Just kidding, just another routine triple-bypass; no drama but I'll have an impressive 9.5 inch scar in the middle of my chest.  Things went so well that they cut me loose on Easter Sunday for my own Resurrection and am doing a recuperation at my sister's home in Niles, a clash of realities but I can deal with it.  No complaints except for the healing part.  And the follow-up appointments, therapy sessions, and paperwork, lots and lots of paperwork.  No need for a cane or walker, nice to be on my feet walking around.

So that's how my month has started; how you guys doing?

It Could Be Worse

 That's what I say every time I start feeling sorry for myself.  Sounds like both of my esteemed colleagues are in worse shape than I am, at least heart wise.  I don't know about my shortness of breath issue.  I always figured that was connected to that bout with rheumatic fever that I had as a kid, but now I'm not so sure.  They said they fixed my heart issue when I was in the hospital last summer, but my breath is still as short as it ever was.  I am sucking on my nebulizer as we speak, and I have purchased a portable oxygen concentrator, but I can't seem to find the time to get into a reliable routine with either one of them.  That's why we are looking into assisted living.  If we could get someone to pick up some of our household chores, it might free us up to spend more time on our health therapy regimes.

Meanwhile, as Red Green used to say, "Remember, I'm pulling for you.  We're all in this together."