October 1983

    My mother never lived alone. At the end she lived with her sister, and next door to her son and family. I was at her house almost every day, and so were many of the grandkids. On this last ordinary visit to her house on Friday, the weather was nice and she and Helen were in the garden, at the bottom end, near where the old rabbit cage was. When I got to where they were,  my mother told me she wasn't feeling that good. That was unusual for her so I said we should go to the hospital. She reminded me that she had her regularly scheduled visit with her doctor in Mechanicville the next Tuesday, just a few days away. I said, thinking it was a joke, that  we wanted to make sure she was around on Tuesday. She had been hospitalized with a heart attack in 1978, so that was always on our minds. 

   She agreed to  go and we called her doctor to advise him . But he said to bring her over to the office first to check her out. When we got to the Mechanicville office, her doctor was not there; she was to be seen by his son. My mother was disappointed because she had a good relatiobnship with the father, but she would not have said anything about it. 

     The young doctor listened to her symptoms, of most concern to her a pain in her side near the back. He attributed it to her kidney. At one time they had told her she had a third kidney. I don't know how they diagnosed that as I don't think she ever had any type of scan, which was probably not an option at the time. So he reassured her that there was no need to go to the hospital. Good news. But I remember what she said as we were about to leave his office, again unusual for her. He had told her the trouble was that "extra kidney." She turned back to him and asked, "Are you sure it's the kidney, Doctor?"  His response, meant to be comforting, was, and I vividly recall his words, "Yes, That's exactly what it is." 

   On the way home, as we neared the railroad crossing, I remember her saying that it would be an odd sight  when the snow fell on the trees, which  still had their green leaves. We didn't think she would not be around to see that happen. And I have no memory if it did or not.

   We went home that Friday afternoon, and got through Saturday. She died Sunday morning. 

Somebody better protect my real estate...

 ...from the infringement of what I'm sure are well-intentioned but grotesque memorial tributes. As the pictures, and cemetery deed measurements show, each lot is flush with the neighboring lot where the headstone is installed. So I demand my allotment of footroom. 

Our allotment for 3 graves initially was marked with 4 cornerstones. Only one remains, as the others were buried when adjoining graves were closed, with no inches to spare. Space is at a premium in cemeteries. 

Can't explain, but sad...

 

Cemetery

 Today the flowers are still in bloom:

Around the House:

 

"Heaven" on Earth

 A tale from long ago emerges now on a recurring basis:  A man (always a man back then) dies and wakes up to a scenario of absolute peace and beauty, surrounded by beautiful sights and sounds and friendly and welcoming people. All his needs are met; he has no tasks to perform or responsibilities to uphold. He feels delighted to enjoy all that the afterlife has endowed him with. But, before too much time passes, he starts to feel somewhat disillusioned, even restless. He asks his nearby neighbor if he too finds Heaven boring. "Heaven?" says the guy, "You're not in heaven. This is Hell."  

   Earthly Corollary: If you live your life abiding by life's strictures and rules, and work industriously toward the time you will not need to work but are able to comfortably retire, you may at last be admitted to that long-anticipated  place of sanctuary.  A place of peace and quiet, beautiful in its serenity where all your needs are met. No need to concern yourself with commonplace issues such as heating the house, tending the lawn, maintaining an automobile, cleaning your space, doing your laundry, and even shopping, preparing and serving your meals. Everything you need is done for you in a sociable manner. The only exception to the  perfect existence cited in the above tale is that your still mortal coil is subject to the inevitable  vagaries and ills wrought by the passage of time. So the one thing that prevents a perfect heavenly existence may be that which precludes living in a perfect Hell. 

   "What fools we mortals be."

RIP, Ryan Class

 Some years before enrolling in Veteran's benefits, Dave was in need of help negotiating our front steps, which had never had a  railing. We sought help from TRIP, a Rensselaer County agency which provided certain services for homes in Rensselaer County. *  The representative, carpenter, who showed up at our house was Ryan Class. He engaged with Dave and soon built a front entry railing, and not of  the plain ordinary sort, but one with attractive carved spindles. The railing was certainly a help, but Dave felt it could better suit his needs in some way. Ryan worked with him and atached a supplemental section to the top of the rail. Perfect now. He asked Dave if there was anything else he could  do for him and Dave admitted he also had some difficulty navigating the steps to the deck of the swimming pool. Ryan Class fashioned additional support rails atop the old. Dave really appreciated the special improvements so agreeably implemented. Ryan left Trip soon after, and we were no longer eligible for that program anyway,

but I always remembered his kindness and good nature in working with Dave.

* As I recall, the homeowner paid for the materials, and the labor was at no cost.

Lost in the translation

 Reading comprehension is eluding me. I just read a report of an accident in Pownal involving a Schaghticoke man. Police found  "two cars in a position of uncontrolled rest."  I suppose that could be a technical expression or maybe the writer aspires to be a poet. (Both cars were totaled but both drivers okay.