I used to read articles about dementia and count my blessings that I wasn’t affected by the devastating effects on a family member. Even though my father in law developed a form of dementia, he was well into his late 90’s and it seemed like a natural progression. When my mom declared that she had mini strokes and felt like her mind was going we thought it might be wine related. Her daily consumption was steadily increasing and the lines blurred in unison. It was a slow progression into the dark deep hole of cognitive decline. Vascular dementia is evil.

Today I took my dad to an appointment at the hospital. We can’t really leave mom at home for too long on her own. She panics and does strange things. Like deciding to cook and then forgetting she started to cook and walking away from the kitchen. Oddly she’s lost her sense of smell (and no, it’s not covid) so if something burns in the kitchen she is unaware. So Rudy came with me and stayed with mom. They took Molly for a walk and then mom made Rudy breakfast. Dad and I went to his laser surgery appointment.

Luckily the appointment was quick. We missed the crowds at the hospital. Now that things are rolling again everyone is eager to get their procedures underway. We were in and out in under an hour. Miraculous. I was expecting so much more delay. After the appointment we dropped off the prescription and drove home. Mom and Rudy were hanging out and were (pleasantly?) surprised to see us. We chatted and detailed the events at the hospital.

A while later we left to run our errands. Dad and I left mom and Rudy and Molly at home again. Our first put stop was dads weekly bread pick up. He has an addiction to the local bakery walnut raisin sourdough. Then we picked up his prescription. While we drove around he said that he felt like he was forgetting our childhood memories. I felt a lump in my throat. Was he confessing to memory loss too?? Then he continued to say he was always trying to conjure up memories of ya as kids. He feels like he missed out on so much. I told him that he was the family provider and thanks to him we had a stay home mom. Best gift ever. He said it was funny that I said that; mom says the same thing.

We looked at each other and he saw something in my expression. I know he says; your mom is really confused. But there are many days when we can still talk like old times. I couldn’t look over at him again. I thought I might cry. Dementia has robbed my parents of a truly wonderful golden era. My dad has been given a great responsibility of caregiver for my mom. I think it’s a reality that he’s accepted like so many other challenges in his life. He deals in facts and logic; it is what it is. My mom is afloat between her brains deep caverns. Sometimes she’s completely lucid and others she’s in a dense fog. Her short term memory is worst. But the saddest part is her resentment of dads normal self. She’s frustrated and angry and she lets it out on dad.

Mom has sleeping problems. She can’t fall asleep and when she does she’s restless. She wakes many mornings (according to dad) and says she thinks she’s had more mini strokes in the night; her vision is worse and her brain isn’t working. It must be frightening and disturbing to feel yourself slipping away. She reverts back to her familiar routines: busy work in the kitchen or offering hospitality to everyone (more coffee? How about a sandwich? Drinks anyone?) hoping for takers. Poor Rudy often agrees to things he doesn’t really want just to give her purpose. Dad only wants to play cards. I comply with card playing since a) I enjoy it b) he enjoys it c) it’s a distraction from the mundane.

When I left today, like most times, my mom gets melancholy and sad. She asks when I’m coming back. Next Wednesday I tell her. I phone when I get home (it’s about 2 hours) dad answers. He’s glad we had a safe trip. When I call tomorrow to check in mom will ask when I’m coming back. I will tell her next Wednesday. It will be a daily routine until next Wednesday.

Dementia sucks. It’s a thief.

My uncle, dads only sibling, passed away in February 2020. He left behind his wife of over 60 years; my aunt Elizabeth. We always called her Tante Else. Tante is aunt in German. And Else (pronounced L-say) is a German short form for Elizabeth. English speakers however often pronounce it like Elsie the cow. She rolls with it and answers to all. But now that she’s alone in her marital home , which they built from scratch, she finds that she talks to herself. She calls herself Lizzie.

She told me that she’s fallen a few times and she scolds herself. Ok Lizzie! She will chide herself. Get up now! You can do this! Her life partner, before he took ill and needed her help, was her caregiver. Now she’s alone.

At least once a week she receives help from a psw to get washed and tidied. But that was a daily service she got from my uncle. Her mobility is impaired due to prior accidents (one being hit by car while walking on her country road) and she has very poor range of motion in her right arm. It makes even eating a challenge. But Lizzie pushes through.

Her grand daughter took her for a pedicure last week. Else was sporting bright red toenails and said how she enjoyed the experience. She liked getting out and talking to different people.

I asked my parents if we could include Else on our weekly visit this week. We could pick her up and visit the cemetery then go for a patio lunch. So that’s what we did. But organizing it was a bit challenging. I called my aunt and she answers the phone. But she couldn’t hear me. She asked if I was calling from Germany and told me her Heinzy had died speaking entirely in German. I tried to explain who I was but it was fruitless. I ended the call and texted my cousin. Could he please ask about a lunch date for me. He arranged the pick up date and time. When we pulled in to her place she was outside waiting. Lizzie is punctual!

She was nicely dressed in a black and white floral top matched with white slacks. With her white mane of hair and her sparkly red toes she looked dapper! I helped her into the car and the four of us drove off.

Driving with the ac on as it was a hot day made it more difficult to converse in the car. I became the conversation translator. At times all three elders were talking simultaneously and carrying on three separate conversations. It was funny and a touch sad at the same time. They all had so much to say apparently. My dad is really hilarious since he talks the loudest. The two ladies were speaking in such soft voices and he completely drowned them out. I laughed to myself.

We arrived at the cemetery and dad immediately checked the soil for dryness. Yes. He needed to water. My mom stood under a nearby tree in the shade. My aunt and I stood in front of my uncles resting place and she said: oh Heintzy; why did you leave me behind? I was supposed to go first. I put myself in her shoes and wanted to cry. Outside of family, I realized, the elders had very few friends. And none had outside of the home activities (my moms exercise classes long cancelled due to covid). They were, essentially, isolated at home. They were lonely.

After our cemetery visit which included a short walk with ladies while dad watered, we piled back into the car for a drive downtown for lunch. We enjoy the patio at Fosters; it’s a mostly shady spot with great food. Dad already had the order in mind. He and mom would split the steak frites and a salad. Caesar of course. and don’t forget the ketchup. With a beer and glass of wine. My aunt was reading the menu when the waiter appeared to take the order. Dad ordered for him and mom. My aunt was undecided. Dad tried to convince her that the steak was best. She tried to explain that her teeth needed soft foods. Dad either didn’t hear or ignored and barrelled on about the steak. I tapped his leg and shook my head. The waiter (clearly experienced in these matters) jumped in and recommended the eggs Benedict. Sold. With a ginger ale; dad protested and my aunt explained that she takes strong pain medication and can’t tolerate alcohol. My dad was not impressed but acquiesced.

The service at Fosters is great. They are friendly and get that they have to adjust accordingly when speaking to seniors through a face mask. I really appreciate their efforts and their patience. Seniors are a funny bunch in that they have tons of world and life experiences but find themselves confused and at a loss for words at times. Switching gears mid thought (or sentence) is the norm. They know what they want and need but can’t articulate. It must be the height of frustration.

Everyone cleared their plate. My mom had a piece of the steak and her piece had a small bit of gristle. She of course blamed my dad as though he cut that piece off on purpose. I chuckled as my dad missed her point; mom took a long and winding verbal road to pin the gristle in my dad. He lost his patience part way through her muddled lecture and started talking about their former acquaintance who passed away days before. We walked back to the car me helping my mom and dad helping my aunt. My mom whispers to me in German: can we take her home now? Yes, I say, we are dropping her off after a short drive around the park. My mom is happy.

We drive around the park and I marvel at how different the scene is. Instead of thousands of tourists and street vendors and art sales there’s couples and families picnicking or just relaxing on folding chairs. The weirdest part is: there’s tons of parking. The theatre (Stratford’s big tourist attraction) is closed for the season. Gasp. Not ever since the day it started in the mid 1950s has the theatre been dark for so long. It’s tragic in a way. Fodder for a play I would say!

The drop off of my aunt is complete. I help get her inside the house. It seems quiet and empty. She hugs and kisses me. Thank you for a really nice time; Lizzie is going to take a nap now. Sweet dreams.

Alex’s eyes snapped open and she groped for her phone in the bedside table. Had she slept at all? She felt groggy and tried to recount the number of glasses of wine she’d had before bed. No. It wasn’t that. She’d slept fitfully as her mind blurred the days events into a jumble of bloody clothes and frantic apprentices. She groaned as she let her feet hit the floor. It was earlier than her usual alarm but she was (apparently) not getting more sleep.

She trudged to the kitchen with Toby at her heels. It was early for him too and he was confused. In a dogs mind changing the routine could mean many things. Not all of them good. Alex knew Toby was sensitive to her temperament so she bent down to scratch his soft ears. He tilted his head in appreciation. Alex quickly turned the coffee maker on and grabbed Toby’s leash. Toby was already twirling at the door in anticipation.

Walking the dog was therapeutic. Alex took the time to visualize her day at work; she found that walking through the scenarios in her head like a home movie was helpful. Of course the “movie” script could be rewritten to accommodate several outcomes so Alex was careful to detail her script to mitigate damage. Both personally and professionally. As they rounded the corner back on to her street she noticed a couple of kids gathered in a small group on the sidewalk; looked like the road hockey guys. Getting closer she could tell one of them was crying and wiping his face. Was that blood?? Concerned she approached. Two of the boys ran off but two remained; the crying kid and one other who was using a rag to stop the bleeding. It was a gusher nosebleed and it was wasn’t a rag it was a T-shirt.

Alex stood next to the bleeding kid and asked if she could call his parents. Shoulders heaving and still sobbing he shook his head no. The other kid jumped in and confessed that if the parents knew they’d be mad. Mad? Alex thought to herself. What’s your name? The supporting friend says: I’m Nathan and that’s Quinn. Quinn was clutching the tshirt and looking to see if he was still bleeding. Alex offered to take them home but they declined. They’d be ok they assured her the bleeding only lasted so long. It happens a lot. Alex wanted to linger and do more but her time was now running short even though she had an early start. Reluctantly she carried on to her house a few doors away.

When she drove off a short while later, after completing the rest of her morning routine, the kids were gone. All that remained where they were was a crumpled bloody tshirt. Her mind immediately drew the connection between the shirt she found the day before and the incident that played out before her earlier. Alex felt there was definitely something related. But she’d have to wait until later to process her thoughts. Her immediate attention was on her office and the day that lay ahead.

She thought she had formulated a decent plan in her head. Firstly she would gather her assistant and run through the complaint. Her assistant would reference the company employee manual sections that applied as well as the employment standards laws. While laws and protocols weren’t always applicable they would certainly provide a framework. Meanwhile she would meet with Luke first and then Carrie. Getting full disclosure and a statement from both would set the tone of what would come next. In her experience there were two common outcomes: complete denial or admission of guilt. Getting to the truth however was often a winding road. Clearly her day would be chewed up by this so she hoped no other catastrophes were on the horizon. In any event, if Carrie was at fault (or that’s where things were leaning) she’d have to recuse herself due to conflict as her opinions and decisions could be construed as biased. Friends and colleagues at work was not always a good thing.

The office was a buzz and she could sense a bit of a tense vibe as she walked through the reception area. The office layout was typical: reception at the front, flanked by board rooms and small meeting rooms (think tanks), bullpen (myriad of cubicles and work stations) in the middle and the perimeter made up of executive offices including hers. There was another section for lunch room and bathrooms. But most people ate at their desk or ventured to the building lobby where a coffee shop did a brisk business. Making her way to her office Alex noticed a few people not making eye contact when they said good morning. Groan. The office grapevine/rumour mill was clearly in full force. Alex knew from experience that it was inevitable that the cat was out of the bag. So much for confidentiality.

Her assistant was waiting at her cubicle and when she saw Alex she popped up and they met at Alex’s office door. The look on her face was telltale. Alex has a sinking feeling that things were not going to be routine at all. Her script would soon be out the window she feared. It wasn’t even 9 am and it was going to be a long day.

Alex was adamant that any verbal discussions about staff between herself and others was conducted behind closed doors. Her assistant waited for Alex to unlock her door and followed her inside. Other than good morning no other words were spoken. Until the door closed behind them.

As soon as door closed, Alex’s assistant says: you better sit. Alex’s mind is racing with vignettes if possible scenarios. But nothing prepared her for the reality as her assistant handed her a tablet with a You Tube video cued up. Alex tapped the play icon and a grainy image appeared. It was apparent that a slight film or coating was prohibiting a clear visual. Nonetheless what was playing out was obvious. It was a hotel room and it was a sex tape. Carrie and Luke were the stars of the show. This changed Alex’s entire world.

The “show” lasted about 15 minutes before it was abruptly cut off. But there was no mistaking that Carrie and Luke had engaged in an intimate relationship. Questions started to formulate as Alex’s brain shifted into hyper overdrive. She looked at her assistant who added another bombshell to the mix: Carrie had resigned from the firm and Luke was pressing criminal charges.

In 24 hours Alex’s world was turned upside down. She had to reach Carrie. As a friend.

It took extra effort for Alex to keep Toby a safe distance from the bloody heap of fabric. The blood was drying so it looked like a grotesque tie dye of reds and rusts. The fact it wasn’t fully a dark rust meant it was fairly fresh since it was a warm late summer afternoon. Dragging Toby away, Alex juggled her next move in her brain. Call the cops or leave it alone. Given her day at work and shirking her responsibilities there she decided to call the police.

A non-emergency call is not a priority. They would send someone shortly. So Alex figures she had enough time to let Toby relieve himself with a short walk around the block. They head out to a quiet street; things died down activity wise at dinner time. Kids were called home to eat before the next series of events such as little league or girl guides. Seemed like there was always movement from mini van to house to mini van. And in between the kids played outdoors or at someone’s house. Alex wondered about the shirt in her lane way. And hoped that it wasn’t anything sinister. Not wanting to let her mind take her on a “what if” journey she returned her mental focus to her work dilemma.

Her colleague Carrie worked in the marketing department. They had started at the firm 12 years earlier as eager college grads on their first job. Both had interned at the company and that’s how they met. Each year the company took on interns from universities in the province to let them experience the real world. For Alex that meant making copies of employee handbooks and posting health and safety memos. For Carrie it was consumer survey data entry and providing hostess services for endless marketing meetings. They were both hired on full time after their graduation. Alex was working towards her HR certification and designation, the CHRP (entry level designation). Carrie was placed in the newly formed Social Media Group; they managed the various platforms such as Pinterest and Instagram.

Their work friendship flourished as they learned the ropes together. They enjoyed frequent lunch breaks in the cafeteria and then it morphed naturally into off site get togethers. Then they met each others boyfriends and double dated. As young professionals they celebrated work milestones and life events. Both married their boyfriends and were involved in each others weddings and, ultimately, Alex’s divorce 6 years later. There wasn’t much the two didn’t share. Carries husband Tim was a physiotherapist who worked out of his clinic and at clients homes; his practice was busy and lucrative almost from the start. Carrie and Tim decided that kids didn’t fit into their driven schedules. Unlike Alex who felt the tug at her maternal strings but her ex didn’t feel the same. Ultimately it caused a rift that couldn’t be repaired and the inevitable split occurred. In the years since her split Alex had tested the dating waters but was to this point not successful and preferred the company of Toby to men. It seemed like the best men turned out to be married and the others were annoying players still grappling up the ladder in their careers.

Carrie and Tim were consumed by their careers. Both had hit their stride and were making their mark. Both had achieved great success and the accolades that followed. Carrie had been recognized both individually and with her team at the CMAs (Canadian Marketing Awards) several times. So with stars on the rise how did Carrie get embroiled in this messy situation?

Alex reviewed the complaint in her head: Luke, a newly hired advertising apprentice, alleged that Carrie made flirtatious comments to him in public work spaces over a period of time. (Witnesses?) Eventually the comments turned into gestures; touching, bumping. Luke then advised Carrie he wasn’t interested and the gestures were unwanted. Carrie made yet another attempt when the two were alone in the boardroom between meetings. At this interaction Luke physically pushed Carrie away and left the room. Carrie thereafter engaged in a series of acts to make Luke look bad and jeopardize his position; Luke was put on warning by his boss.

Alex couldn’t reconcile the interaction between Carrie and Luke. Surely Carrie would have made a comment about Luke to her? Even something jokingly about him which was Carrie’s style.

Alex was snapped out of her work trance when the cop car pulled into her driveway and Toby let loose the alarm barking system. Alex stepped outside without Toby (who was not impressed) to meet the cop. A young cop stepped out if the vehicle and introduced himself. Alex told him the basic facts while he took notes. Then she showed him the shirt in a heap. The shirt now was almost fully dried. The young cop took a few photos and then bagged the shirt. He told her that they would keep the shirt in their forensic department until (if) a connection emerged. Like what Alex wanted to know. The cop wouldn’t speculate but indicated that the database they used picked up on key words entered in by all law enforcement. Should a match occur they would take the next steps and she may have to make a formal statement. He encouraged her to jot down specifics (timelines and observations) while they were fresh. He left leaving Alex with more questions than answers.

Alex poured herself a glass of wine and started typing into her notes feature on her phone. She replayed the afternoons events chronologically including leaving work early and her dogs strange behaviour. After some time and lengthy report, Alex realized her evening had been chewed up and she (nor Toby) had eaten dinner. But she’d made a good dent in her bottle of wine. She peeked into the fridge to find something to satisfy them both. Leftover meatloaf it is. Hers with a small salad and Toby’s nicely mixed with yummy kibble.

Later as she crawled into bed with Toby she reviewed the days happenings. It was a day in the “strange” category for sure. So strange in fact that her indecision on whether to talk to Carrie was moot. She started to dread the next days roster of meetings.

Preamble: Sometimes a story just pops into my head; perhaps a personal experience has influenced it. But it is, nonetheless, purely my imagination and totally fake. It’s not based on anyone or anything in particular. As the reader you may make assumptions otherwise. Do so at your own discretion (and peril).

After a long, gritty day at the office, Alex could be sure of one thing: a happy face to greet her when she walked through her front door. No matter what kind of day she had, as soon as her keys jingled in the lock Toby would be there with his gentle eyes trained on her and his tail wagging a mile a minute. Toby was a true mutt whose gene pool was a mystery even to the vet, but he was the best companion a girl could ask for. True blue in every sense: loyal, loving, fierce and protective. All he asked in return was the basics. Love. Food. Shelter. And walks. Lots of walks. Toby enjoyed outdoor life to the fullest.

On this particular day Alex needed Toby’s calming effect more than usual. Her HR position skill was tested to the max by a complaint launched against her co-worker for harassment. The complaint landed on her desk late in the day and she was torn between duty as a professional and as a friend and colleague. The allegations were severe and could mean extreme punitive outcomes. Company protocol dictated that she immediately acknowledge receipt and confirm action would be undertaken immediately. There is a 48 hour investigation and due diligence provision for high level accusations. This fit the criteria for high level as it was both against a management team member and was sexual in nature. The only offence to supersede any time lapse was health and safety. If someone reported a potential risk for loss or damage it was addressed without pause. Alex decided it was late enough in the day to forego starting her investigation. But her dilemma was whether to notify her friend off the record first. She decided to leave work a bit early instead. A cop out perhaps but she needed alone time to think about all the angles. Pause and reflect.

Alex gathered her belongings and advised her admin group leader that she had a personal matter to deal with. Without waiting for any questions or further explanation, Alex quickly left the office opting for stairs rather than elevator to reduce the chances of running into anyone. In the basement parking garage she realized she was out of breath; the thought of what the next few days would be like we’re already starting to eat away at her. As she jumped into her Mini Cooper (a parting gift from her now ex husband) she flipped on the radio to drown out the voices in her head.

Driving into her neighbourhood was always a great tranquilizer. The big trees and wide streets lined with generous sidewalks and well maintained front yards was serene. It was an older area of town where homes were smallish but had lovely front yards and fenced in backyards for privacy. Being family oriented, the homes had kid friendly amenities like hoops out front and pools out back. There was usually kids bikes parked in driveways and maybe a road hockey game or two in progress. It was a safe and friendly place. She parked in her driveway and made her way to the door. Oddly Toby wasn’t barking as usual.

Alex opened the door and Toby was sitting right there. He was whining and pawing her to say let’s go! Alex wondered if he’d eaten something and needed to purge; he was diligent to wait until he could go outside no matter what. She dropped her purse and knapsack on the hallway floor and grabbed the leash. Toby was jumpy and whining. As soon as they stepped outside Toby barked and pulled Alex to the side of the house. This was so out of character for him! As they rounded the house Alex spotted the reason for Toby’s strange behaviour: there was a bloody t-shirt dumped beside her trash bins.

Who knew that in the midst of chaos you could slow down enough to savour the moment(s). There’s so many troubling events around us and poking to find a way into our soul. I’ve been conjuring up a power shield to deflect the negative forces. The shield includes avoiding social media and news. And following the most basic human practice: treat others the way you want to be treated.

It’s funny what can happen when you surrender to love and kindness. Here’s a few special moments that have touched me recently:

Connecting with a friend who I haven’t seen or heard from in a while. Oddly my mom mentioned her yesterday as my mom has random flashbacks to things (mostly in the past) that trigger a question. And then last evening I got a message from her. Like all of us she’s been isolating, but she’s doing so at her remote cottage. We are planning a visit and I’m really looking forward.

The isolation scenario has increased our appetites for books. The two I ordered from Amazon were gobbled up quickly. Our book stash is dwindling. And just when I think I might need to order, our former neighbour pops over with two bags full! She’s a voracious reader and chooses books that I would likely never select. One from her last batch before we left for Florida (amazing how time flies) I thoroughly enjoyed; it was entitled “Z” and was a novel about the life of F Scott Fitzgerald’s wife Zelda. Now I have a whole new library to choose from. In addition to books she sends me frequent motivational or humorous videos. She’s a gem.

The house we bought had a privacy fence erected on demand (two neighbours in dislike with each other) that partitioned our deck from next door. Since we moved in we have become friends with the neighbour who demanded the privacy fence/partition. This week he offered to let us remove it. Yesterday our favourite handyman started the removal. When I got home from visiting with my folks Rudy rushed me to the back deck. Pow! Our million dollar view just became a billion dollar view! It’s astonishing! As we ogled the new panorama our neighbour came into his deck and we thanked him profusely for the gift of view. His answer was heartwarming: it’s only for you two … it’s been great since you moved in.

My dads been getting hormone treatment for prostate cancer which causes menopausal symptoms: belly fat increase is one of them. None of his pants fit. He’s been wearing track pants and loungers all the time. Not that he’s a fashion plate, but he’s always taken pride in his appearance and finally he mentioned it (very difficult for him!). So yesterday I brought him some new pants. He did a fashion show for me and mom. The look on his face was priceless. I’m sure it’s the same look we had as kids getting a new outfit for school; combination delight and confidence. Bets are that he’s gussied up to get groceries today.

When I got home yesterday and Rudy rushed me to the deck, he waited until I had oohed and aahed before he asked me to go inside and tend to something. It was flowers. He bought me a gorgeous bunch of spring blooms and they were waiting for me on the counter. I love arranging flowers and how they brighten a room. He’s so thoughtful and loving. Then we ventured out on the deck for a sunset cocktail. Rudy brought out the speaker and played DJ for us while we sipped and enjoyed the new expansion view.

We looked at each other and didn’t have to say any words. In our cocoon there’s love and gratitude. We are living the dream.

The key is to create the perfect mood. Get the lighting just so. Have all the necessary toys to ensure the best outcome.

A willing partner is also a good thing. It has to be mutually beneficial after all. If it’s done right everyone wins. In our case a quickie is best. Sometimes taking too long kills the desire and it’s over. Without the job being done.

Positioning is also an important element. Having the right angle is vital. And no mirrors. That’s a good rule. And a quick shower after is absolutely necessary.

After all, a decent haircut is something you have to live with for at least a few weeks. Same with a bad cut. This no barbers thing is tough on guys who like a certain look. I don’t mind the longish hair look. But it’s not for everyone. Rudy does not like hat head.

So today was the day. We planned it. Walk the dog. Breakfast. Bike ride. Hair cut. If it’s in the schedule it’s going to happen. And it did. There was worry and reluctance but then submission. Luckily it turned out ok. It was a number three. Last time I managed to talk him into it I didn’t use an attachment and his mother thought he was ill. Oops.

Years ago I wanted to be a hairdresser. Like stewardess, the term hairdresser is old fashioned but that was my 13 year old career goal. My mother was horrified. It was out of the question as far as she was concerned. Hmpf. I wasn’t going to be dissuaded.

It started much earlier in my life as I practised on our Barbie dolls. My sister is still traumatized that her Barbie got my version of “the wedge”. Remember Dorothy Hamil? She made the wedge super trendy in the day and I was desperate to give Barbie the look. It took three barbies for me to realize that hair plugs make the wedge impossible and synthetic hair didn’t “feather” nicely. Oh well. Sorry Tina. Get Barbie a hat. Ken came away unscathed since his hair was plastic and painted.

Then I moved on to live subjects in high school. Anyone willing (and trust me I was very persuasive) got a full new do a la Sue. I had several regular customers including family members (not my sister lol) and friends. Even my brothers grade 8 prom date let me cut and perm her hair. This was serious business. Mostly there were good results and everyone was satisfied. Especially me.

As you may know by now, being a hairdresser never did enter my career path. I still think about it. And as an ironic twist I was blessed/cursed with fine, limp, slow-growing hair. My options are acutely limited when it comes to personal coifiture. Such is life.

I’m secretly hoping this virus nonsense lasts a bit longer so I get another chance at cutting some hair. If you’re interested give me a call.

Let me set the stage. I’ve just returned from an overnight visit with my folks. We had a fun card-playing-filled afternoon/evening followed by the usual line up of tv shows and early bedtime. Then a sunny day of errands and a walk in the park. I’m home now on the back deck. The Bay is still and crystal clear. I have the Hallmark channel on Sirius (I love this channel …. all great love songs!) a glass of wine and my train of thoughts. While Rudy and Molly nap peacefully ….

Perfection.

We drift back in time to 1952. The war is over and the mood is getting brighter. Better days are ahead and the rebuilding of a tattered nation is exciting and promising. Youngsters are oblivious of the destruction that passed with its dark shadow. Parents are hopeful. Teenagers are breaking free from their forced limitations and restrictions. It’s a new world and spirits are filled with adventure and new beginnings.

Somewhere in a small village called Oberkochen there’s a dance school offering teens a chance to refine their skills and provide a much needed social outlet. An acceptable way to meet possible suitors and young ladies. There’s no dating websites. This is it. A social gathering of available and eager people.

It’s here at the weekly dancing classes that Brigitte and Reinholt joyfully twirl and twist to classical staples. All of the dances are choreographed to their delight. There are many other “couples” who have enlisted to mix and mingle. It’s a popular and acceptable (read rated G) way for youth to express themselves. Also in the crowd is Rudi and his partner a lively girl from Austria. When the dance series ends after so many weeks there is a finale including a party. All of the ladies bring a cake to have with coffee. It seems that this is a showcase of culinary skills that does not go unnoticed. Brigitte brings a complicated bouche with cream and intricate braids and the Austrian brings a cheesecake. I’m delighted that these details are so vivid almost 70 years later!

The finale is called the Tanz Krenzle (the dance circle) and all of the couples socialize after dancing at tables set for dessert and coffee (otherwise known as Kaffee und Kuchen). It’s here where Rudi makes his move on Brigitte. He offers to take her home. His Austrian madchen is meeting her cousin so he is free to bust loose. Reinhold is not impressed; he insists that HE will be the escort home. Rudi asks Brigitte if she has her house key and Reinhold responds that he has the key.

In a bold move Rudi requests the key from Reinhold politely with a thinly veiled threat of physical domination should the key not be handed over immediately. Reinhold assesses the situation, and, getting no encouragement from Brigitte, takes the key and tosses it in the nearest snow bank. A very politically correct FU for the times. Rudi retrieves the key and escorts Brigitte home.

Such is the beginning of a lifetime of love and partnership.

It so happens that my in-laws also met at the local dance hall. Stella was 14 and Rudy was 19. They were happily married for almost 80 years. Can you imagine?!

The parallels are not lost on me and I can’t think of a more romantic way to start a lifelong love affair. I’m sure there’s a cheeky and clever comment to be made here, but I’m just overwhelmed with gratitude. And love. ❤️

I told my parents today, and Rudy the other day, that my reading choices of late have had a theme: war. In particular WWII. I don’t know if that’s a sign or if it’s just a coincidence. For Mother’s Day I got a gift card for Amazon from my step daughter. I ordered books. One that seemed interesting; a best seller entitled “We Were the Lucky Ones” and a second “The Nightingale” highly recommended by a friend. I finished the first one hanging on every word. It was captivating. I’m now firmly into the second.

Today visiting my folks we talk about “what’s new”. Well, in today’s bustling world and typical Canadian spring weather, I tell them about my book; it’s the only “new” thing. My parents were just kids during the war in Germany but it’s one of my dad’s favourite topics. My mom not so much. The first book is set in Poland. Interesting since my dad spent the wartime years in what is now Poland. So we talked about the invasion. Poland got divvied up between Germany and Russia as they made a pact. And then later on Germany broke the pact and declared war on Russia too. Poland got ransacked in the process.

The book was about the tribulations of a Jewish family. Their harrowing survival of the brutal holocaust by brave and ingenious tactics. It’s truly a testament to the human will to survive and the bond of family and traditions. I relayed a few vignettes from the book to my parents. Especially the ordeal to find family in the ruins. And then asked my dad about his experience during this dark time in history. He was very talkative.

In 1942 my grandfather (my dads namesake, Rudolf) was secretly shipped to West Germany. He was an in demand tool and die maker whose skills were needed to make grenades. He and his co-workers were transported under cloak of secrecy one day. The family waited for him to return home from work and simply didn’t show up one day. A few days later there was a cryptic note brought to the door advising that he was called away for work. No explanation or details. Poof. He’s gone. He and the workers he trained were shipped to Oberkochen (near Stuttgart) to set up the grenade production. He never wore a military uniform; he was too valuable behind the scenes.

The rest of the family remained in the home. As the war raged on and the German army began to falter, the Russian troops started to appear. Finally at the end of the war, the Polish militias were the rule of law. The borders were redrawn (again) and my dads family was now in Poland.

One day, out of the blue, the military police arrived on their doorstep. A Polish family is moving into their home. They had to leave. There was a DP (displaced persons) camp set up nearby. So my grandmother and great grandmother were put in the encampment until further notice. My dad and uncle were taken to police headquarters and questioned about guns and other weapons they had hidden. They were interrogated and beaten until they provided the information and coughed up the goods. My dad was 13. Then they were taken to the camp. However, after a few days in the camp, a family friend (Pole) outside of the camp recognizes my grandmother and approaches the fence to ask what she’s doing there. She explains the events. He immediately calls to a guard and enters the camp to speak to the authorities. A short while later a guard rounds up my dad and his family. They are free to go.

When they return to their home the Polish family has moved in. The four of them are billeted in the grandmothers old quarters (one room off the kitchen) until the police come for them again. Again they are forced to leave. This time they are separated and billeted with families. My father goes to a farm and my uncle goes to a different farm across the valley. My grandmother goes to a family who are friends from before the war (a Jewish family who escaped early on to Switzerland and returned after the war). My dad and his brother have a nightly ritual whereby they signal each other by waving a lantern in the dark of night across the valley. Seeing the signal is a sign that all is well.

The farm my dad is working on is a Polish family. In addition to my dad they’ve also taken in an older German woman who they call grandmother even though she’s not related. They treat him well and insist he go to school. My uncle is working for a drunk who relies on my uncle to run the farm and tend the horses. My uncle is 15. The drunk farmers wife, however, is kindly to my uncle and treats him well. He cannot attend school though. Treating well equals being clothed, fed and sheltered. Bare bones.

One day while my dad was leading the cows to pasture the old woman comes to find him. She tells my dad that his brother and mother and grandmother are waiting for him at the train station. They are being shipped to West Germany immediately. My dad secures the cows figuring the old woman couldn’t manage them and tells her that he’s going to the train and she should fetch the farmer. As my dad walks along the road towards the depot, the farmer appears on his wagon. He picks my dad up; they return to the farm. The farmer and his wife offer to arrange an adoption if my dad would like to join their family legally. Tearfully my dad declines. The wife understands completely that my dad wants to be with his family regardless of the uncertainty. She quickly packs a large basket of provisions and my dad gets a lift on the farmers wagon to the train.

There’s many military personnel at the platform to supervise the exodus of people. But the farmer drives his cart up to the train and my dad and his package of food are dropped off. The farmer is watchful to ensure my dads safe reunion with his family package intact. Then he drives away. My dad gives the package to his mother and she, with the help of other women, divvy up the bounty and hand it out quickly before the military confiscate it.

The train leaves for unknown destinations. The journey is long and hard. No food. No medication for the sick. Deplorable conditions. Gut wrenching circumstances. Death. But everyday my grandmother lines up to check with the Red Cross for any news or information about my grandfather. They have no idea where he is and haven’t seen him for years.

One day, beyond all comprehension and luck, his name appears on a list. He’s in Oberkochen. He’s alive and well. The family will truly be reunited. The war is now officially over.

More to come …. I have questions for my dad: what happened to their grandmother? What happened at the reunion in Oberkochen? And exactly how did he meet my mom?

Stay tuned.

Someone once told me that GOLF was an acronym for: Gentlemen Only Ladies Forbidden. Suits me just fine. But today it gave me great pleasure to know Golf. It was opening day of the club Rudy belongs to and he was almost twitching with excitement.

Every golfer must have been tuned into the media a few days ago as the powers that be announced what businesses could reopen their doors. Golf courses were among the list of venues that could open again with some modifications and restrictions to adhere to health advice. Hogwash in my view (locking down healthy people is insane!) but nonetheless the courses are free to open. The links are going to see action other than dog walkers and geese! Hooray!

Rudy immediately contacted the club following the announcement. He wasn’t the only one apparently since the best tee time he could get was after 1 pm. This is perfect timing for his golfing buddy who’s an admitted non-morning person and also for me who hates the hustle and bustle in the morning. Mornings are for lingering over coffee and gradually waking up to a new day if you ask me. Rudy simply didn’t care at all; he was golfing in his home club after months of patience. He enjoys golfing in Florida (who wouldn’t) but his home club offers a lot of perks such as club cleaning and storage as well as a course that’s challenging.

I’m happy for him. He’s like a kid on Christmas morning! Organizing his gear and checking his mental list of what he needs. It’s fascinating to watch. He has every gadget known to man. And, in typical Rudy fashion, he has them squirrelled into compartments and packets that he schleps along. His golf partner laughs at the array of stuff that Rudy has stashed away in his gear. Today I observed the various trinkets and gizmos that make up the golf kit. It’s impressive how it all fits into place and that Rudy knows exactly where each item is. Mostly. It’s downright hilarious to observe him digging and manoeuvring to retrieve something on demand. Just like his flashlight fetish at our farm his golf gadgets come in multiples. I think he stashes things and rather than take ages to locate them he just buys another and adds it to the set.

He spends a lot of time perusing golf related media. He loves You Tube for example and will watch many training videos on how to (fill in the blank) better his golf game. He’s very particular however about the actual trainer. They better not be boring and waste time on irrelevant information; get to the point and do it in a fun purposeful way. He’s always clicking to find a video on topic that’s a suitable length; if it’s too lengthy he skips past. Good to know for “how to” enthusiasts targeting Rudy’s type market. When all you have is time, don’t waste it.

He also likes to order golf items on line. So in addition to the how to aspect of the videos is also the prescribed stuff you need to succeed. He’s ordered clubs, gadgets such as cigar clips (where you attach your lit stogie to the cart while you play) and other useful must haves and accessories. When these arrive at the door they are quickly whisked into golf oblivion (one of the bags). One that’s cute is the ball marker that fastens onto the brim of your cap. Rudy loves to show off his finds and often orders extras to share with a lucky few (anyone that is genuinely enamoured).

Today, in excited anticipation, Rudy spent quite some time organizing his loot. He sat at the kitchen table surrounded by pouches and their contents as he laboured with his back up gps. He forgot to charge his golf gps watch. He needed the back up. He rounded everything up and back it went into the goodie bags. As an afterthought he added the screwdriver he was using to tinker on his gps. He notices me watching him. You never know if Blair might need a screwdriver; I’m taking it just in case. Ok. I say. Good idea. You never know. I chuckle just thinking about it.

Towards the end of last season he lost his wallet somewhere in his bag(s) of tricks. I hope he finds it. He could use a back up. You never know.