Tag Archives: memory loss

The Joys of Aging

Posted on by

My mom was the strongest woman I’ve known, not in physical strength, but in fortitude. Still, in 1985 she was diagnosed with six months to live. But being who she was, it didn’t surprise me she lived another 19 years.

My mom had inoperable small cell lung cancer, congestive heart failure, and severe osteoporosis. Although challenging for her, she never complained; her will to live was amazing. She simply refused to die until after my dad passed, then she joined him a week later.

How my mom managed with her condition is beyond me; she just accepted what comes with the joys of aging. I, on the other hand, will likely keep griping. However, toward the end of her life she said, “Janie Mae, getting old isn’t for sissies.” Now that I’m 71, I’m beginning to understand what she meant.

Continue reading →

In My Mind’s Eye: Remembering Dad

Posted on by

Here’s my annual Father’s Day post, adapted from an article I wrote for the San Francisco Chronicle in 1997. Happy Father’s Day! Here’s to you Dad…

There’s an image I have captured in my mind. I’m in my car in front of the home my parents have shared for most of their 45 married years. Mom and Dad are standing on the front porch.

From the street, I can see the huge eucalyptus tree in their backyard, silhouetted against the evening sky. It’s gently swaying in the warm breeze while the full moon illuminates the manicured lawn. My parents are smiling and waving as I drive away after a visit.

Mom lives alone now that Dad is in an Alzheimer’s nursing facility, so that scenario has changed; but it never does in my mind. My parents always stood on the porch to wave good-bye when I left. Even in pouring rain, they still stood in the open doorway together. I always looked back and returned their waves.

Continue reading →

In My Mind’s Eye: Remembering Dad

Posted on by

Here’s my annual Father’s Day post, adapted from an article I wrote for the San Francisco Chronicle in 1997. Happy Father’s Day! Here’s to you Dad…There’s an image I have captured in my mind. I’m in my car in front of the home my parents have shared for most of their 45 married years. Mom and Dad are standing on the front porch.

From the street, I can see the huge eucalyptus tree in their backyard, silhouetted against the evening sky. It’s gently swaying in the warm breeze while the full moon illuminates the manicured lawn. My parents are smiling and waving as I drive away after a visit.

Mom lives alone now that Dad is in an Alzheimer’s nursing facility, so that scenario has changed. But it never does in my mind. My parents always stood on the porch to wave good-bye when I left. Even in pouring rain, they still stood in the open doorway together. I always looked back and returned their waves. Continue reading →

Am I Losing It?

Posted on by

This post previously ran in 2019

It’s an epidemic.

losing my mind 2

Many of my friends are in the same boat with me when it comes to a frequently foggy memory. I have to say, it gives me immense pleasure knowing I’m not floating out there alone. That sounds callous, doesn’t it? But mostly, it fills me with hope that I’m not, in fact, losing it. It being my mind. Granted, I never had a particularly sharp one. But these days I sometimes find my boat lost in a sea of fog.

Getting older hasn’t bothered me that much. I mean, if it weren’t for my stupid back, I mostly feel like a 30-year-old. I don’t have aching body parts a 64-year-old might expect. Maybe because I’ve always been active. Now don’t get me wrong; just because I don’t feel my age doesn’t mean I don’t look it. I certainly do. Sadly, I recently gazed into my 10x magnifying mirror and just for a second wished I was blind.

magnifying mirror 2
Don’t do it
Continue reading →

In My Mind’s Eye: Remembering Dad

Posted on by

Here’s my annual Father’s Day post, adapted from an article I wrote for the San Francisco Chronicle in 1997. Happy Father’s Day! Here’s to you Dad…There’s an image I have captured in my mind. I’m in my car in front of the home my parents have shared for most of their 45 married years. Mom and Dad are standing on the front porch.

From the street, I can see the huge eucalyptus tree in their backyard, silhouetted against the evening sky. It’s gently swaying in the warm breeze while the full moon illuminates the manicured lawn. My parents are smiling and waving as I drive away after a visit.

Mom lives alone now that Dad is in an Alzheimer’s nursing facility, so that scenario has changed. But it never does in my mind. My parents always stood on the porch to wave good-bye when I left. Even in pouring rain, they still stood in the open doorway together. I always looked back and returned their waves. Continue reading →