Wait… you mean everyone's not addicted to the Internet?

This week I’ve been on a little odyssey that started innocently enough on Facebook – I found there were groups for my old middle and high schools (Merrill and Roosevelt in Des Moines), so I started friending several people I knew from that time. One had posted pages out of the 10th grade yearbook to his profile, and I spent a chunk of time clicking through, remembering the faces and getting quite a laugh over how young we all looked.

All of that led me to try to find a few individuals who, turns out, not only were not on Facebook or MySpace, they didn’t seem to be anywhere on the Internet! (Or at least, if they are, they’re buried in search results and not easily found.)

So, just a shout-out because you didn’t turn up in my latest (admittedly shallow) round of Googling:
     (James) Steve Kennedy – a fun and funny kid who once dragged me into a hidden room at Merrill to play his favorite comedy album for me. I don’t think he has any idea how obsessed I became with Tom Lehrer’s “The Elements.”
     Mike Barberio – brilliant and true friend starting in about fourth grade, inventor of some kind of clock that used little green lights for the minutes, red for the hours… also made these cool disco light boxes, one of which I bought for my basement… and made me a coffin for my dead cat. (Twisted, yes, but we understood each other.) He moved to Washington in 10th grade and later worked for IBM or MIT or someplace engineering/computer-related.  
    If you guys ever Google yourselves, maybe this post will come up. If that happens, send me an email! I hope life is good, and would love to say hello. (Maybe you can teach me that whole “ignore the Internet” thing…?)

Christmas cards to Dad mean others are thinking of him too

This week I am working on a sad and unanticipated task. When my dad was very ill, we started having his mail forwarded to my house. Then after we moved, I of course had everything forwarded to our new address. His mail has mostly been doctor bills and the occasional solicitation from the Danbury Mint, but now I am receiving forwarded Christmas cards addressed to him, from friends out of state who don’t know that he has passed away.

I just do not feel right about letting them go unacknowledged, so I am writing short letters to each of these folks, letting them know he is gone. A few stray thoughts about this:

It will no doubt be sad for each person to open their letter and read of the death of their friend – I hope they can at least see a bright spot in having received the letter itself.

The practice of letter-writing must be all but extinct – I can’t remember the last time I received a hand-written letter that wasn’t a Christmas card.

The hand-written note in one of the cards began with this hopeful query: “Al, when will we see you again?” My morbid humor aside, that one really was especially sad.

Last year on Christmas Day was the last time I saw my dad looking really healthy. He was out of the hospital and out of rehab, and staying at home, and drove himself down to our house for Christmas dinner. It had been a long and difficult month for him since Thanksgiving, and I remember thinking how perfect Christmas Day was.

Gardening challenges old and new

I have been in love with gardening since the mid-70’s, when I used to collect houseplants and make terrariums as a kid. I didn’t really get to have a permanent garden, though, until we moved to Holcomb Avenue in November, 1991.

While I had many lovely perennial plants and thoroughly enjoyed planting annuals each year, my primary gardening tasks on Holcomb were cleaning up the patio on the east side of the house, and clipping down the silver maple shoots that came up everywhere out of the shallow roots of the trees planted on the west side.

Patio clean-up was a ritual for me. The first green plants to pop up here each year were the hostas and surprise lilies, and seeing them would prompt me to get out there and clean up the fallen leaves and other debris from the over-winter. I would fuss with this space endlessly throughout the spring, often staying out til 11 p.m. or later. While the patio would again look awful from neglect and road dust by late summer, in late May/early June it always looked very inviting with the lattice fence, large hostas, and colorful annuals.

In the last five years we lived there, I dug and cultivated a new flower bed on the east side of the house – “the cottage garden,” I called it, though it never really lived up to that moniker. I loved that little bed too, and tried all kinds of plants there.

Another flower bed, this one by the driveway, held heirloom iris that had been planted by my mother-in-law, which she had brought over from her mother’s garden around 1942.

In and amongst the plants in these beds were my various bits of “garden junk” – not content with the usual assortment of statuary and gazing balls, I was always on the lookout for some bit of rusty equipment to use as a trellis or a unique container to hold some annuals, or anything I could repaint and use as decoration.

Although most of the “junk” was lost after the flood, I was able to take a lot of the plants with me to the new house. I spent a lot of time digging them up, putting them in temporary pots, and then replanting them in a holding bed on the new property.

Next Spring, when I have a good idea of what has survived the move, I will undoubtedly have the opportunity to plan some new gardening spaces – without Silver Maples, thank god.

Though, these fruit trees look like they are going to be a challenge.

The ongoing saga of our flooded "stuff"

One of the loose ends still hanging from our summer of loss and relocating is the fate of all our “stuff.” Lots of people have asked whether we were able to save a lot of stuff prior to leaving the house. Though you’d think this was a simple yes or no question, it really isn’t.

First, I always reply, we were able to save “the irreplaceable stuff” – photos, mementos, papers, keepsakes, that sort of thing. During the voluntary evacuation period, we remained at home but as a precaution packed up these types of items into plastic tubs and then loaded the tubs into the camper and car. (I drove around for a week with my car loaded with my family’s most precious items. Around this time I couldn’t have told you where my latest pay stub was, but I could open my trunk and show you the topper from my parents’ wedding cake, circa 1960. Such was the miscellany floating around in my car.)

Second, I always point out that even though we saved what was truly irreplaceable, that didn’t diminish the pain, inconvenience and expense that came with losing the rest. It’s an interesting dichotomy: In good times, I happily take used items out to the curb in hopes that a junk picker will come by and snatch them up. By contrast, when we were cleaning up the flooded house, we hauled ruined belongings to the curb for several days in a row – and it angered me to the point of confrontation to have opportunistic junk pickers going through our slime-covered stuff. Why? Because it was still my stuff – I wasn’t ready to part with it, and I felt like vultures were circling around, waiting to profit from my misfortune.

Finally, the last piece of the “stuff” puzzle is the process of re-stocking the new house. We have worked very hard to make the limited funds we had go as far as possible. We tried to prioritize, but we bought the absolute cheapest of some pretty important things simply because we had an overwhelming number of things to buy. 

And, there’s now the added problem of wondering whether the stuff we did save is worth keeping. Excluding the family photos and mementos, of course, I’m referring here to the stuff that got covered in river muck but that was saved – for example, my clay project collection. These were things I bought not because they were essential, but because I liked them and had an emotional connection to them. The question for these types of items during voluntary evacuation was, “Do I take the time to pack all this up, knowing it might not flood and I’ll have to just unpack it all again? Or do I decide to chance it, and clean it all up later?” For the most part, we chose the latter strategy. And, now that I’ve lived without that stuff for a few months (a lot of it’s still in storage), I find myself reluctant to bring it back into the house. Not because I dread the clean-up, but because I’m just not sure I really need it any more.

I am sure that much of the recognized “psychology of clutter” is at work here, as we continue to struggle with what to keep and what to toss. Maybe there’s even a helpful message in here somewhere as we all embark upon the biggest stuff-gathering phase of the year, the holiday shopping season. Ultimately, the answer to the original question is this: yes, we saved lots of stuff – the important stuff.  Even so, we still lost a lot of stuff we really liked, and we weren’t prepared emotionally or financially to lose or replace it all.

You are what you bring – Thanksgiving with my husband's family

Thanksgiving these past few years has been a chance for me to marvel at how much I’ve moved up the “acceptance scale” in my husband’s family. Since we’ve been married, we have always gone to Thanksgiving at either his mother’s house or, more recently, his sister Gloria’s house. This year the meal is being held at his sister Susan’s home.

Apparently I did not make a very good first impression all those years ago in the culinary department, because for a long time it was simply my responsibility to bring “the vegetable tray.” Now let me just say that I really like Steve’s family, and that I really love spending Thanksgiving with them. But let’s be honest: a careful kindergartener could bring the vegetable tray – you just chop up some celery and carrots (or buy them pre-chopped if you are without proper cutlery) open a can of olives, and set it out in a partitioned dish with some AE Dill dip for pre-meal snacking. 

I was never sure why everyone was so afraid of my cooking. Perhaps it was because of my relative youth among the women of Steve’s family – I am a few years younger than his youngest sister. Perhaps it was the fleeting nature of his past relationships – I am not his first wife (“good old number four,” as his cousin Martin calls me), so maybe they just didn’t think I’d stick around that long. Perhaps they just were not aware I knew how to read a measuring cup, despite Steve’s well-fed appearance.

At any rate, after several years of this I surprised them all in 1998 by becoming a Pampered Chef kitchen consultant, and my sister-in-law Gloria generously offered to host a “kitchen show” in her home – probably out of morbid curiosity. Using my handy-dandy PC kitchen tools, I prepared two simple recipes in front of all three sisters plus Mom and several other guests.

The demo went very well, and had an unintended consequence: much to my amazement, a few weeks later I was invited to bring a baked side dish in addition to the vegetable tray at Thanksgiving. I had successfully moved them off the bubble, and since that time I’ve continued to bring either green bean casserole or scalloped corn. This year, I’m bringing the casserole plus a couple of desserts.

There’s even talk that next year, Steve and I might actually host the meal – a leap made possible by virtue of our new and larger house.

It’s good to have a goal.

Image of 1958 Pepsi ad snagged at www.decodog.com.

Things in the new house I'm grateful for

I promise I won’t do too much blathering about our new house, but one of the advantages it has over the old one is STORAGE. And lots of it! The old house was sorely lacking in this department. I just thought I would share a list of things the new house has that the old one didn’t, and that make me smile every time I see them.

1. COAT CLOSETS – oh my gosh, in our previous home the coats always ended up in a HUGE pile on a rocking chair in the living room. NOT the decorating theme I was going for, certainly, but there literally was no place else to put them.

2. LINEN CLOSETS – again, there was no such thing as “storing the seasonal stuff” in our house. I finally have shelving to store blankets and extra sheet sets.

3. FAMILY ROOM – In our old house, if DD wanted to play a video game using the television, DH and I were quite literally banished to the dining room table because there was no place else for us to go.  The new place not only has all the usual rooms upstairs, it has a finished family/rec room downstairs.

4. LAZY SUSAN Cabinet – I can finally reach all the canned goods

5. KITCHEN STORAGE - Places to store the pots ‘n pans besides in the oven.

6. SPARE BEDROOM – This space will incorporate elements of a dressing room, office, and guest bedroom. It’ll provide a permanent home for my crafty/genealogy stuff, desk for the computer/printer, and maybe a futon. 

7. KITCHEN ‘OFFICE’ NOOK – a place where the mail can get sorted and stacked, besides the poor dining room table!

8. LIVING ROOM SEATING – We’ll finally have room for more than three people to have a comfortable sit-down conversation, or gather to watch a DVD movie.

9. ROOM TO ENTERTAIN – two levels of usable space means lots of room to have friends and family over. Only thing we could do with guests in the old house was sit around the dining room table and play games or cards.

And 10. HOSTING THE HOLIDAYS – because of all of the above, I will finally have enough room to host family members during the holidays! We’ll see how that works out, I have a sister-in-law who just got a new house last year, and I think she’s got dibs on Thanksgiving already!

My dad, my home, my life

This post originally appeared on my life-and-community blog at www.dmweblife.com. At the time this was written, I had not updated the blog for a couple of months and thought I would probably not be posting there again.

Hi all – it has been so long since I posted anything I am not sure if you are even still here. That’s okay, I haven’t really held up my end of the bargain for the past few months.

I did want to give a (probably) final update on this blog. On June 8, our “senior living journey” ended as my dad passed away surrounded by friends and family at Kavanagh House. Al Barcheski was a great guy with a big heart, unique personal style, and a great sense of humor. I was proud to call him my dad. He was also somewhat well-known around Des Moines. I have heard from so many people who’ve said, “I didn’t know Al was your Dad, but I knew him and will miss him.” If you are interested and able to attend, there will be a memorial visitation on Tuesday, June 17 from 4-7 p.m. at Hamilton’s Funeral Home, 605 Lyon Street. Here’s the obituary in case you missed it last week.

Also… or, as they say, “in other news,” on Saturday June 14 my home was destroyed in the flooding that occurred in Des Moines’ Birdland neighborhood. Based on what I can see of the now-receding water level, it appears that we had about 8 feet of water in the master bedroom and about 4-5 feet in the kitchen and living room which sit a little higher than the rest of the house. This will be our second re-build of this house, as it was flooded in 1993.

Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers. We’re strong, but right now it’s a little over-whelming.

Thanks!

“So bring on the rain
‘Cause I’m thirsty anyway
And tomorrow’s another day.”

Family health issues take a downturn this week

It has been a tough week in the “senior living journey” department. I have been waiting to hear from our assisted living community with a move-in date (we are getting closer!), but in the meantime, Dad had a relapse of sorts this past week that has left me reeling a bit. I received a call around 5 a.m. Tuesday from his neighbor, who had found Dad locked out of his house, very confused and disoriented, and of course COLD… fortunately he had not been outside too long, as paramedics told me he did not have frostbite, but I realize that this whole situation could have had a very different ending. My dad is so fortunate to have such good neighbors – apparently several of them heard him calling for help and responded with 911 calls, and a couple of them went down to the house and broke the door in so they could get him back inside. I honestly don’t even know how to thank them properly – they most certainly saved his life. At any rate, back to the hospital for awhile. It leaves me wondering if assisted living is going to be the right arrangement for him.

UPDATE: Tonight I got to meet and thank the neighbors in person who helped my dad. It turns out he was outside for more than an hour, not properly dressed. I don’t know how he didn’t get frostbite.

One person's junk is another person's memorabilia

As we get closer to moving Dad into an Assisted Living apartment (he’s back in the hospital, btw), the prospect of somehow disposing of his lifetime of “stuff” now looms nearer. He’ll be moving from a three-bedroom house (with garage and finished basement) into a one-bedroom apartment.

My brother and I have been discussing how best to do this for quite some time. The problem is, some of Dad’s stuff is the typical 50-years-of-housekeeping type stuff we all have like dishes, flatware, clothes and furniture. But he’s also a collector (meaning pack-rat) and has some collections of stuff that might be worth something to other collectors – if we knew where/how to find them.

For example, baseball. Dad’s a sports fan and has memorabilia and collectibles representing golf and baseball: everything from caps (some autographed), balls, t-shirts, jerseys, figurines, etc. Also, the 1979 Iowa visit of Pope John Paul II was a huge moment in Dad’s life. He has been a faithful Catholic his entire life, and he worked as Media Coordinator for the Pope’s Des Moines visit that year. He has a lot of “Pope stuff” (did you know there was “Pope Corn”? Yep, specially-packaged popcorn) – flags, figurines, etc. And owls – he used to collect Owls, back when he worked at WHO-TV. Basically, what he’s got is a lifetime of collectibles from golf, baseball, religion and broadcasting. Oh, and a large collection of Early American Pattern Glass goblets that belonged to his mother, one each of about 30 different patterns.

I’m considering getting a booth over at Collectamania for this type of stuff. An auction for the furniture and household stuff, and Goodwill for the clothing. Your suggestions welcome!

Dad's senior living journey: affordable assisted living

Yesterday I finally had an opportunity to visit an assisted living facility I’d been hoping to see. It’s called Walden Point, located on 4th Street just north of Mercy Hospital. I think this is the place I would like to move my dad, and we have begun taking steps to get him there.

I drove to my appointment thinking it was actually an older building across from the hospital, and was really surprised to discover that it’s not the place I thought it was. (That one’s called Arbor Heights and it faces University.) Walden Point actually fronts 4th Street and was brand new in 2006. I was delighted with the look of the building, the gated parking, and the newness of it. The photos here just show the kitchen and living room of one of the one-bedroom apartments – there are also two-bedroom units. The rent for the unit is not quite $700 per month, and all other services – such as access to the dining room, visiting nurse, etc. – are additional. What makes the place affordable for fixed-income seniors is a financial tool called the Elderly Waiver. This is a subsidy program that essentially lowers the price the resident pays for rent, and then provides funding for most – if not all – of the other services. When combined with the fact that Dad will soon be on Title 19 (owning no property, he doesn’t have much in the way of assets to liquidate), I’m hopeful that a good portion of his residency here will be covered – by his own income and with assistance from these two programs.

I took several photos during my tour to show dad (with my green EnV phone – doesn’t it ROCK for blog photos??), who is still mostly home-bound following a recent hospital stay, and he was enthusiastic. Walden Point has a community dining room, library, computer lab, exercise room, and several other amenities – plus the extra attention Dad needs daily to make sure he’s taking his medicine correctly.

I’m thrilled to have found this place – next step: filling out applications for residency, Title 19, and the Elderly Waiver.

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