Georgia's Mind on my Mind

Last weekend was rough. I know I have to write about it, but it has taken some time to compose my thoughts and start writing.

Deb and I drove to the South Dakota/Minnesota border to visit her parents. My father-in-law Ken is in a nursing home in Ortonville, Minnesota, where his Parkinson's disease and Myasthenia Gravis can be properly dealt with. Dad still spends most of his days at the family home overlooking Big Stone Lake a few miles north of Big Stone City, South Dakota, where Georgia, his bride of 55 years, still resides. Dad returns to the nursing home each evening; Mom is under the care of various family members, including her son, daughter-in-law and grandson. Mom is only 72 years old. But she has Alzheimer's.

Dad's Parkinson's has been getting gradually worse over the past 20 some years. Dad still insists on doing yard work around the house. The fact that the "yard" encompasses several acres does not slow him, or his Hover-round. Joking about how well he'd be able to jig for fish seemed funny when he was diagnosed. Not so much today. Although his tremors are fairly well under control through medications, it's heartbreaking watching the deterioration of the body of the former high school basketball star and all around athlete who loved recalling his swims across Big Stone Lake. Dad's mind is still sharp, probably exacerbating his frustration with his inability to live independently and certainly exacerbating the helplessness he feels as he watches Mom slip away.

When we arrived home on Saturday morning, I was a bit taken aback to see my nephew Shawn coloring in a children's coloring book. Shawn has taken on the responsibility of caring for his grandmother. I took the coloring to be a form of relaxation on the weekend since he had other family members around to relieve him of the constant obligation. Nonetheless, it struck me that, at 18, he should be spending time reading, not coloring pictures of kittens and bunnies.

Unfortunately, the coloring books were not for Shawn. As if a pointed demonstration of Mom's mental decline just since Christmas, the coloring books serve as a way for her to pass time. Shawn was not coloring for his own account. He was starting a page as a guide for his grandmother. During the 30 hours or so that we shared with Mom and Dad last weekend, I experienced a number of such doses of reality and realized, sadly, that an important era in my life as all but over.

The two parental in-laws presented a stark contrast to one another. Dad is healthy of mind; weak of body. Mom is physically fit but slipping away mentally. Both strive to overcome the lousy cards they've been dealt. Dad insists on staying active beyond the dictates of common sense. Mom repeats snippets of conversation as exchanged in order to appear as if she is fully following and participating in the discussion. She still seems to recognize everyone around her. But she makes allusions to events that never happened and places that don't exist.

Dad, Ken, has an amazing spirit and he will continue to fight against the physical limits his illnesses impose. I expect him to dance at MY funeral. Today, I find myself pondering Georgia's transformation from the doyenne of Big Stone Lake, whose accomplishments are memorialized in granite tributes on the Minnesota/South Dakota border, to the vulnerable and frightened recluse facing a loss of all she has known.

I remember being told 26 years ago that there was no experience like becoming a parent, that no amount of detailed, image evoking description beforehand could prepare you for the emotional tsunami that arrives with the birth of your first child. I believe it is the same way with watching a loved one succumb to Alzheimer's disease. There is simply no way to prepare for having someone with whom you've shared your entire life carry on in front of you as if you had never met and without any memory of everything that went into weaving a family fabric.

Mom is not yet at the point where she cannot relate to her family members. In some ways, living three hours away is a blessing. We are not confronted daily with the face to face evidence that Mom is slipping away. On the other hand, there is a desire to spend as much time as possible before we are strangers to her.

As I hugged her last weekend and, even more sadly, as I watched Deb hug her, I had to wonder if this would be the last time where there would be mutuality in the recognition. Given the progression in just the past two months, I have no assurance that Mom will continue to know us in the months ahead.

The scourge of memory loss disease runs in Mom's family. She conveyed a blessing on my wife some years ago while visiting Mom's ailing sister when she directed Deb not to take anything personally once Mom faced her own challenges with Alzheimer's. Her past thoughtfulness has helped. There have been instances when Deb has had to take charge of financial matters, business matters and health care matters for her parents. Dad understands; Mom pushed back, unsuccessfully, wanting to maintain her independence as a badge of competency.

But now, after a few months have passed, there seems to be an emotional surrender and a willingness to let others care for Mom's needs. She has transitioned from hiding her smoking, to smoking openly (including, very temporarily, in the family fireworks store), to not caring about smoking. Her days of exercising her mind with crossword puzzles are long gone. Now, she struggles to follow Shawn's lead and color in the line drawings of cute little animals.

I know we are not alone in this. I am blessed that my father seems abundantly healthy in mind and body. But I have so many contemporaries going through the same struggles that Deb and I face with Mom. Modern Medicine has bestowed the blessing of long life; Mother Nature taketh away some of that blessing for some of us. Years ago, we would joke about grandma or grandpa "getting senile". Now that our lifespans have increased, we are forced to deal with the progression of senility over an additional ten years or so.

Like the newborn that filled us with wonder, and as with the responsibilities that we gladly accepted when we joined the ranks of parenthood, we now begin to cope with equally dependent loved ones at the other end of the life cycle and, like it or not, must again take on responsibilities of care and nurturing as we would wish to be cared for and nurtured.

Giving Thanks

Today is Thanksgiving Day. It is my favorite holiday of the year. It is all-inclusive without regard to religious preference. It remains relatively non-commercialized. Most importantly, it allows us to reflect on the blessings we enjoy and sometimes take for granted. Even in these difficult and anxiety-provoking times, there is a sense of peace that comes with being able to take inventory of the pieces and parts of our lives that provide contentment throughout the year.

We tend to realize how much we each have to be grateful for by comparing our own circumstances with those of others. As I write this, the morning newscaster just lead a story with "One in ten Minnesotans have no idea where their next meal is coming from . . ." A "one in ten" statistic should bring pause to all of us and certainly instill thanks in the lucky 90%. We spend billions of dollars a year on lottery tickets where the chance of winning is 1 in 146,107,962. Statistically, we are significantly closer to living in hunger than living in lottery riches. I am thankful that my family and I are hunger free and grateful that my children recognize their good fortune by supporting programs designed to eradicate hunger.

I am thankful that I live in a country that retains its faith in our Founding Fathers' vision of serial executives designed to allow new leadership to address the problems arising during the term of predecessors. Acting on this faith, we allow our system to work; we resist the temptation to panic; we do not resort to military solutions to redirect the policies of our government. This phenomenon manifests itself in the relative calm that our nation embraces as we await the commencement of the Obama Administration. The President-elect's steady, self-assured, focused and honest demeanor has proven to be a source of comfort strong enough to overcome the seemingly hopeless economic circumstances we face today. I am personally thankful that we have elected a leader who understands that his ability to deliver the promise behind "hope" requires a willingness to acknowledge the challenges we face instead of relying on empty slogans and jingoism.

We understandably count our thanks by measuring the well-being of our children. My children are now two young adults. I am proud of their values. I am proud of their ability to set long term goals for themselves and work diligently to achieve those goals. For six years, I ran a chemical dependency treatment center. On many occasions, I would meet a young man or woman whose bad decisions led to the need for treatment at our facility and think "There, but for the grace of God, goes my child." I am thankful that both children have escaped the personal devastation and replacement of dreams with nightmares that results from chemical dependency. My heart goes out to my friends and family, and to parents I have not yet met, who, tragically, are facing struggles with their own children.

My children give me other reasons to be thankful. As a preview to the 2008 Stern Family Holiday letter, I will share that Phil has moved from working with troubled youth in an Americorps program to teaching in a local school district and, consistent with his commitment to the less fortunate, has signed up to participate in the Big Brothers program. Ellie's inner compassion is evidenced by her dedication to continuing her education at the University of Arizona's accelerated R.N. program and the extra effort she makes on behalf of her patients, both in Tucson and previously at the nursing home in Minnesota where she worked after graduating college.

I am incredibly thankful for my wife, Deb. There is universal consensus that I do not deserve her. That's probably true. But until death us do part, I am thankful for her love, support, role modeling, compassion, industriousness and appreciation of a simple lifestyle.

I have the blessings of friends and family, many of which have been discussed in this blog over the past year. I have the the blessings of a career in which I can take pride in assisting others face challenges and pursue opportunities and I am thankful for the many clients and colleagues who continue to support me after my six-year hiatus from the full-time practice of law. I am thankful that I can make subjects happy with whatever skills I bring to a photo session. Their delight with the results encourages me to continue to pursue my artistic avocation. I am thankful for the strokes to my ego when one of my tens of readers comments favorably on my pondering. I am grateful that my blog mentor, Charlie Leck, continued to encourage me to write when I doubted I had anything to say. I am thankful for the relaxation I find when I take the time to write.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Find your own blessings in your life and recognize how they provide a platform from which to address life's challenges. Let the people you care about know that you care. Doing so sends a signal to the recipients that they have something additional to be thankful for.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

It is early Thursday, November 6, 2008, as I write this. For reasons that will become obvious in a moment, this version of Prairie Pondering will not appear until 6:30 p.m.

Today is my father's 80th birthday. He demurred at the suggestion of any extravagant celebration. At his request, he is celebrating by having dinner with two of his three sons and one of his grandchildren this evening.

In recognition of his extensive traveling and instilling the love of road trips in his sons, he will be presented with a copy of Tales of the Road: Highway 61, autographed by its author, the ever-gracious Cathy Wurzer, who once interviewed Dad on TPT's Almanac and who volunteered to make any necessary arrangements to meet for a book signing so she could participate in Dad's celebration.

There are many emotional realities that one faces when celebrating an 80th birthday with a parent, even in this day and age when "80 is the new 60". Those are for another Prairie Pondering installment. On the other hand, all who know my father remark at how vibrant and youthful he appears and acts. Some even blame recent Minnesota Vikings losses on Dad. He shares an exercise room in his apartment complex with several members of the Vikings. He works out daily. But, as the Vikings struggled last season, I imagined the scenario in which one exercising linebacker noted to a running back as he pointed to Dad, "Irv's done. I'm good."

Dad has touched so many lives through the years; most beneficiaries are unaware of his impact. Thirty years ago, he embarked on his political career, winning a race for Mayor of St. Louis Park. When I left for Washington, D.C., he visited frequently, using his work with the Carter Administration's Housing and Urban Development agency as an excuse to see me. On the other hand, his constituents did benefit from his official work: he obtained long delayed funding for the upgrade of Highway 12 to I-394 and obtained Federal funds to convert the intersection at Turner's Crossroad into the commercial center it is today (Park Place/Xenia), including development funds for the Park Place Hotel and adjacent office buildings.

As a member of the executive board of the U.S. Conference of Mayors with L.A.'s Tom Bradley and NYC's Ed Koch (I wonder which U.S. Senate Legislative Counsel made that happen. . .), he was part of President Carter's delegation to Hungary to return the Crown of St. Stephen's. Dad promoted trade with China before it was fashionable and, somewhere in my archives, there is a photograph of my then 3 year old daughter sitting on the lap of the future Premier of the PRC while he was sampling Bridgeman's ice cream as Dad's guest.

When he successfully ran for the State Senate in 1979, he used his tenure to introduce and pass legislation to acquire abandoned railroad right-of-ways, making the creation of Minnesota's system of hiking and bike trails possible for all of us. He would have eventually made a great Governor, had he not been defeated in his first bid for statewide office, that of State Treasurer, by a Florida barbeque restaurant owner with better name recognition.

And he is beloved by his family. In addition to Ms. Wurzer's phenomenal book, tonight he will receive a photo and essay coffee table book, contributed to by his children, grandchildren, cousins, in-laws and friends from around the country. You can get a measure of the extraordinary impact Dad has made on all of us by viewing the tribute book here.


So, Dad, Happy Birthday! Since you are starting yet another road trip early November 7th, you probably won't see this blog until you get to your home in Yuma, Arizona some days afterwards. By then, the secret will be out and everyone who wants to will have sent an e-mail to irvstern@msn.com to join me in wishing you a happy and healthy fifth score.






Post-Dinner Postscript: The evening was a perfect celebration. Dad was thrilled with the book about U.S. Highway 61, a route he frequents regularly. Stepdaughter Hali Richard and grandchildren Lexi and Olivia had Sandy deliver their own album with photos and handwritten expressions of their love and admiration for the Papa who has been such a positive role model for more than twenty years, including all of Lexi and Olivia's lives. When he opened the box with the tribute from his family and friends, he welled up just staring at the cover.


Thanks to everyone for making this such a special birthday. I think Dad's friend Rick Nolan said it best in response to Dad's thank you note for a birthday celebration at lunch last week: Irv, I'm sure I speak for all when I say you are one of the most beautiful people we've had the good fortune to know in life.