I DIDN'T LIKE THEM

There are now three draft posts that were scheduled for publication, but I decided I didn’t like them. So, I reverted to draft status. They were not happy posts, which doesn’t mean that I feel I have to post nothing but happy writings, but I just decided I didn’t like them. Maybe I’ll reach a point where I’m ready to share those posts.

          So, when it comes to today’s post, I don’t really have anything prepared. If you remember, though, when I began this, I said there might be days where I’d only post a sentence. Well, this is way more than one sentence. What can I say…write. When I sit down at the keyboard, I believe I come down with a serious case of finger diarrhea. They fly and flit over the keyboard and this is what you get. Lots of words that really don’t say much of anything at all.

          I also have to admit that I’ve made enough posts now that I’m beginning to forget what I’ve already posted. I’m going to have to go back and take a look because I don’t want to bore the hell out of you with old material.

          So, that’s it for today. I’ll look back, do some pondering, and see if I can’t come up with something fun or funny or just plain happy for tomorrow.

MORE BROTHER AND SISTER

         Yesterday’s post was about John and his sister Georgia and her family. In writing that, it also brought back so many great memories of the early years of our marriage. Georgia and Gordy were married in December 1965 (if memory serves) and John and I the following August.

          I cannot remember for how many years we would go to Georgia’s house on Friday or Saturday and play games…Hearts, Pinochle, Chinese Checkers. None of us drank, and this was before marijuana entered our lives, so it was coffee, tea, water and inexpensive snacks that we brought or Georgia made. We had such fun. I was always so impressed that their boys went to bed without much of a fuss.

          Georgia and I were always partners and John and Gordy. It was years and years later that John confessed about how he and Gordy cheated. When you play pinochle, you have to pass cards to your partner. John said he almost fell off his chair when Gordy passed him like eight cards instead of the four the game required. Then, John had to find a way to pass back eight cards. Georgia and I never caught on to the cheating, but it certainly explains why the guys won so many times.

          Then, there were our son’s birthdays to which Georgia and her family were always invited. They didn’t seem to have birthday celebrations like we did, so return invitations were not often received. Christmas Eve was a different story. G&G always held an open house. Since both were heavily involved in community groups, i.e., Lake City Lions, Lake City Vigilantes, etc., they had a lot of friends dropping by that night. John and I always went and took our boys with us until almost everyone was grown and traditions changed.

My family still laughs almost every Christmas when someone brings up the Christmas Eve of Grandma Pearl’s gift to Georgia’s youngest son. Georgia always let her four boys pick one gift to open on Christmas Eve just before bed and when most of the visitors had gone. The youngest son, AJ’s age, picked the gift from Grandma Pearl. The look on his face was priceless when the wrapping paper came off to reveal a framed professionally done photograph of Grandma Pearl. The poor kid’s brothers and AJ laughed and laughed. No one else got a photograph like that so the recipient must have been Grandma’s favorite. 

          Gordy also managed to get John to join the Lake City Lions even though John wasn’t much of a joiner. He was faithful about going to the regular and board meetings, chaired the scholarship committee for years and years and served as Tail Twister for what seemed like ever. The LC Lions also put up Christmas decorations on Lake City Way the weekend after Thanksgiving. Not only did John rope his sons, but also his granddaughter, into assisting with this chore for a number of years. When I went through John’s stuff, there were a multitude of Lion pins from other cities, states and countries as well as perfect attendance pins, hats, vests and other memorabilia. I packaged it all up and took it to Gordy who is passing it on to current members of the Lake City Lions.

          I’m not exactly sure when our close relationship with John’s sister and her family became more distant. It was probably just the business of trying to live our lives, work and raise kids that left little time for games or visits. Still, it’s nice to look back and remember how young, how hopeful, how eager we all were to get on with our lives. The ages we are now seemed, at that time, to be centuries away and yet, here we are. Three of the we four remain, and I’m hoping the other two have as many good memories of our times together as I do.

BROTHER AND SISTER

         For about six months of the year, John and his sister Georgia were the same age, at least that’s how I think it was. When she had her birthday in November, she would once again be the oldest. Last year, it seemed as though they were having a contest to see which of them would die first. When John was in the hospital, Georgia was home. When Georgia was in the hospital, John was home. When John died, I told Georgia she had won (or lost?) the trophy.

          Georgia and her husband Gordy are both alive, and today I went by their house to pick up the Lion’s Club scholarship papers for my granddaughter. I’m sure John prefers being where he is today as opposed to being here at home if his circumstances were the same as his sisters. They require someone to be in the house with them 24/7. It doesn’t have to be a nurse, but they do have a visiting nurse at least once a week and perhaps a physical therapist as well.

          Georgia and Gordy purchased long-term care insurance over 19 years ago. They got the best coverage possible which doesn’t require a registered nurse to live there with them. Apparently newer policies require the caretaker be a nurse. Unfortunately, the long-term care insurance company, AIG, isn’t living up to their side of the bargain. Nineteen years ago, the company had no idea just how much it would cost for a caretaker to be on hand 24/7. The company is being difficult and not paying the full $11,000+ per month that their care is costing. The insurance agent who sold them the policy is working with them to get the company to do its part, so there’s hope.

          They do have family in the area, four sons as a matter of fact, although one son and his family live in Idaho. The other three live in Federal Way, Edmonds, and Everett. They also have families and jobs and are doing as much as they possibly can to help their folks. I left Georgia and Gordy feeling both sad and very fortunate.

          Neither John nor I have long-term care insurance. And, even if we did, I seriously don’t believe John would be happy to be at home and incapable of doing much of anything. I know I certainly would not be happy, and I’m not really sure that Georgia is either. Seeing them makes me very content that John went quickly, before he required serious care even though I was here 24/7. I hope when it’s my turn that I can go quickly as well.

          The visit also made me happy about the decisions I’ve made about a garage sale followed by a donation to St. Vincent de Paul and to sell the home I’ve lived in for 51 years. Georgia and Gordy live in the house they remodeled probably 45-50 years ago so it could house them and their four sons. It has a basement and an upstairsin addition to the main floor, and it is PACKED with stuff. Georgia told me today that the kids don’t really want any of it. I’m sure that’s not necessarily true and that when the time comes, there will be items that each of the sons and their children will want to have in remembrance. Georgia also told me that a couple of the grandchildren came down and went through the Christmas decorations and took what they wanted. Still, it’s a huge house with lots and lots of stuff.

          Just going through John’s stuff (which I haven’t even come close to completing) makes me even more determined to eliminate many of the possessions I’ve collected during my life. Before the garage sale, I’ll invite both my sons to tour the house and take whatever they’d like to have in their own homes. I’m sure it won’t be a lot.

I also know this weaning process is going to be very hard. There isn’t a single item in this house that doesn’t have a story or a memory attached. I guess you’d call my decorating style eclectic because there’s such a difference in the various objects. But, they are pieces I’ve collected or kept because of what they mean to me. I guess what it boils down to is that by selling, donating and moving, I’ll be erasing not only John’s life but my very own while I’m still living.

The decisions were easy to make, but execution may be another story and ever so much more difficult than I thought. A part of me envies Georgia and Gordy being able to stay in their home, surrounded by all their stuff for as long as they possibly can; but, I wouldn’t trade places for anything whatsoever even if the end result is the obliteration of what’s been in order to make way for my new future.

FILE CLEANING IS TAXING

         The sun is shining outside and I should be out there pulling some weeds and digging in the dirt. Instead, I’ve been working on my income tax which meant I had to go through files to dig up information. Most of it was handy, but the medical information was not. And, of course, as always, the bulk of the medical expenses were for John. So, while income tax preparation isn’t fun, it was made even less fun as I went through files that brought the first seven and a half months of last year back with a vengeance. 

          As I went through the medical files, I was surprised I hadn’t remembered John going into the hospital in January. I don’t recall the reason, but the bill says coronary care. He must have been able to return home without having to go to rehab because there are no other bills for that month.

          Then, when I got to April it brought back such frustrating and angry memories. John ended up at Overlake Hospital in Bellevue in much worse shape than he’d been in January. Since I’d had shoulder surgery March 29^th, I couldn’t drive there to see him and/or confer with his doctors. He wasn’t at Overlake for  long and then he went to the Foss Home where he stayed until May 8^th when he returned home. Helpful family and friends provided rides so I could replenish John’s clothes and provide whatever he needed as well as trips for my own doctor and physical therapy appointments. It was a horribly challenging time because I felt so dependent on others. At the same time, I was so grateful for all of the folks who provided rides, grocery shopping and other assistance.

          John’s health continued to decline and another urinary tract infection required he be administered an antibiotic IV. They put a port in his arm, and it was up to me (one-handed more or less) to give him the antibiotic via gravity feed which took about an hour each time. To further add to the stress, one of the side-effects of this antibiotic was loss of motor function, so after four days, he was unable to get up or out of bed. Thanks to his visiting nurse, this drug was stopped immediately and in a short time, John was able to move about with his walker, but not quite as well as before.

          John had a visit nurse and a physical therapist who visited once a week. I believe John enjoyed his nursing visits a lot and he did PT as long as the physical therapist visited, but once the PT visits ended, so did John’s efforts to remain strong. Besides those appointments at home, it seemed as though I had to drive John at least once a week to visit his GP, cardiologist, urologist, foot care specialist, the laboratory or pharmacy. Since last August, I think I’ve driven south on I-5 less than ten times and perhaps even less than five.

          John’s birthday was on June 18^th and every six years or so, his birthday and Father’s Day would coincide. That didn’t happen in 2019, but his sons decided (if my memory is working properly) we’d have a Father’s Day BBQ here at the house. My daughter-in-law, Amber, took some wonderful family photographs that day. It wasn’t until after John died that I realized just how old and frail and weak he appeared in those pictures. I guess seeing (and not seeing) him every single day didn’t register that he was failing quite as badly as the photos indicated. I’m grateful his sons wanted to do this since it was the last time.

          Then came August and the final hospital trip. The bill for less than 24 hours in Harborview is staggering…almost $15,000, the copay for which was $90. Thank heavens for Medicare Advantage insurance.

          I’ve been steadily feeding papers into the shredder as I’ve cleaned out the various files. It feels good to see all that paper headed for Cedar Grove compost. It also feels a little sad because once the files are updated and the taxes completed, it closes for real the final chapter in my relationship with John.

          It seems very strange and kinda silly to be sitting here typing and crying, but I guess you never really know when grief will sneak up on you while you’re doing something as mundane as taxes and file cleaning. I think I’ll put a sweater on and take the dogs into the back yard. John’s under the apple tree in the sunshine and maybe we should have a little talk about how I’m feeling. Maybe that will help make it all better…probably not, but  my body will love the Vitamin D.

TWO MONTHS GONE

          I think I must have been daft to tell you I was going to publish a post every single day of 2020, but here it is March 1^st which means I’ve completed the first two months or a total of 61 posts, including this one.

          Sometimes I think I cannot possibly come up with anything to post about and then I sit down at the keyboard and the words flow from my fingers. I’m sure nothing I’ve posted could be considered great literary work; and I don’t seem to have developed a very huge following of readers, or at least readers that write back. But, for the most part, I like writing and will keep doing this for as long as it’s interesting and fun for me.

          It does get a bit lonely sitting here at this keyboard. To make it less so, what I would like to see happen is for you readers to tell me what you’d like me to write about. Is there anything about being a fairly new widow that you’d like to know that I haven’t covered? Is there anything you’d like to share with me whether you’re a widow or not? Are there topics you would find interesting that I haven’t thought of?

          I’ve actually been working on a post about sex…yes, sex. Anything in particular you’d like to know about that topic? Go ahead, post a comment, send me an email, reach out. I would so love to hear from each and every person who is reading my blog.

DECISION MADE???

          It’s going to be a go…the garage sale that is. Yesterday, when I finally drug out the vacuum cleaner and dusting rags, I began to eliminate stuff from my living room. These are just things that I have to dust over and over and over and over. Why on earth I ever thought I needed so much glass stuff, I have no idea. And, it isn’t just glass, it’s other possessions as well.

          The shelves and tables aren’t bare, but they are holding a lot less. Once I go to Office Depot and get some stickers, I’ll begin pricing and boxing this junk, I mean wonderful belongings, up. I’m sure none of it will sell for what I paid for it originally; however, I was always fairly cheap and wouldn’t spend more than $10 and usually less when buying something. I know I do have some spendier pieces that were gifts, but it’s time to file the memory of who gave and why and let go of the actual item.

          It’s fairly amazing how much better I’m feeling now that I’ve made that decision as well as a couple of others that I’ll share more about later. I guess I’ve been kinda waiting for someone, anyone, to offer assistance and/or decisions with regard to all this stuff. You’d after all this time I’d know the only decision maker here is me.

          You see, John never ever made an important decision for me. There were many times when I just wanted to crawl into his lap, have him cuddle me and tell me what to do. It usually had something to do with changing jobs or family/friend relationships. The decision for me was always very difficult. “Just tell me what I should do?” was my refrain.

          The refrain was ignored with the exception of John playing Devil’s advocate. He’d go over all the minuses with regard to the yes or no decision; then, he’d do the pluses. But, he never gave me a pat on the head and told me unequivocally exactly what I should do.

          John did this for most of our marriage; however, the older he became, the more opinionated, especially after he retired and spent hours on the computer he was. There are organizations and people on the internet who look for and attract individuals like my husband. I think I’ve mentioned before how far right wing he became in the last ten plus years of his life. He became a Devil’s advocate for the devil(s) in my opinion.

          I soon learned not to discuss important decisions with him, because his advice (demand) in no way, shape or form was beneficial. One piece of advice readily comes to mind. It had to do with my 403b retirement plan. I wanted to move the money some place where it would continue to grow (I’d received some bad advice from the company plan holder.) as well as be readily available should I need to tap some of those funds.

          I bought a couple of books and did some research before finally making a decision. John’s advice was I take ALL the cash and put it into a saving account; or better yet, buy gold with it. I explained I’d have to pay income tax up front which would eat up over half the funds. He came back with how risky the stock market really was, which considering the amount of money I’ve lost in the last week might now be true.

          Still, I went ahead with my decision to invest; and it was withdrawals from that account that paid for John’s medical, dental and pharmaceutical needs for the last seven plus years. Since I stopped taking withdrawals last fall, my account grew very well up until, as I said above, the last week and the coronavirus affect on the stock market.

          So, the garage sale is on and I’ll be busy working toward it. I also think I’ll sell the house, but that’s not yet a definite decision. I need to do some research and figure out if it would be beneficial financially to sell and move someplace else where my only responsibility would be writing a check. But, that’s also a decision I don’t have to make immediately. As long as I can pay the property taxes and remain healthy and able to care for myself, I’ll be here.  I just don’t want to get to the point where family or whoever is making my decision for me.  If nothing else, John did teach me decisions about me, myself and I have to be made by me, myself and I.

VALUE CAN ONLY BE DETERMINED BY THE OWNER

          Posting about having a garage sale made me think of the first time John and I had a serious argument about something I did without consulting him. I don’t think we’d even been married a year. I know we were living in the little house in Ballard, and it was probably spring because that’s when you do your spring cleaning…right?

          Anyway, I was John’s wife, mistress of his life so why would I need to check with him when I began cleaning out the closet and dresser drawers. I mean, really, it was right there in the marriage vows wasn’t it? What was his is mine and what’s mine is his and those vows endowed me with the power to make decisions about his clothes and stuff. So, I cleaned out his side of the closet as well as mine. I had never been a saver, i.e., if I didn’t wear it or came to dislike it, then it went in the Goodwill box.

          John had this pair of white Levi’s that had been patched innumerable times by his mother. The jeans were more patch than original fabric. At that point I had never owned a pair of Levi’s and had no idea that the longer you had them and wore them, the softer and more comfortable they became. To me, all those patches represented being poor and there was no need for him to keep them since he had other good pairs of jeans. Into the Goodwill box they went.

          John also had an unbelievably ugly mustard-yellow corduroy jacket. He’d put it on once with a red and white patterned shirt…so ugly. It looked horrible and I insisted he wear something else. After all, I was the fashionista, not him. So, since I hated that jacket and couldn’t ever see myself going out in public with him if he was wearing it, into the Goodwill box it went as well.

          The final insult as far as John was concerned was the fact, he took the boxes out of the car trunk and put them into the Goodwill bin. When he found out he’d tossed his favorite jeans and that wonderful jacket into the bin, he was so angry, I’m sure if he could have said, “I divorce thee; I divorce thee; I divorce thee.” and never had to see me again, he just might have done exactly that.

          Since he died last August, I’ve gotten rid of a whole bunch of stuff without asking him if it was okay. I’m sure if he was in a grave, he’d be rolling over and over in an absolute snit. I gave away 25 boxes of Playboy magazines…yes, GAVE away. I took another four or five huge boxes of Maxim magazines to the recycle station. It gave me great pleasure, plus added a lot of steps to my Fitbit that day, to carry and toss those magazines. In the process of cleaning out all those file cabinets, I found a bunch of jewelry that definitely didn’t belong to me. Who knows where it came from? Someone suggested I take it to Bellevue Rare Coins. I did and was very thankful I didn’t toss that stuff into a Goodwill box. The absolute ugliest pieces of jewelry were 18 caret gold…imagine. 

Besides what I did, the boys and I went through a stuff in the garage and then through what he had stored in the extra space he rented. Again, there was so much that didn’t have a value and that ended up in either recycle or the garbage. The eldest son kept saying, “What was dad thinking?”. I certainly didn’t have an answer.

Not too long ago, I read an article written by a woman who had just finished cleaning out her mother’s home. She hired an estate sale company to take care of the whole thing, but learned a number of things. No one is interested in good china or crystal…may as well enjoy tossing it on the floor and breaking it. No one is interested in brown furniture…may as well cut it up for firewood. Apparently, the only items that have any value are good jewelry, firearms, and I cannot remember what the third thing was…maybe sterling silver? I looked for the article, but could not find it again.

So, I guess the absolute best thing would be to order a dumpster (Can you hear John screaming?) and simply begin to fill it with all the stuff in the house, the attic and the garage that isn’t needed or necessary…this would include eliminating as much of my own stuff as possible in the process. I think I’ll have a garage sale first though and see if I can’t make a bit of change from some of it. I figure if I start now and go room by room, pricing and boxing, then it shouldn’t be too hard come the end of July. Then, whatever’s left can go in the dumpster…John, don’t you come haunting me now.