Stories from Caregivers: Rebecca from NEW JERSEY
NJ
Rebecca
FROM NEW JERSEY
The Good Old Days Dad is talking to his friend... "Remember when we used to walk to Horn and Hardard to get pies to bring home? They aren't even around anymore! Remember when we went to the Y and swam laps? We could swim some laps in The Good Old Days!"� They laugh...Two retired lawyers, Dad and Ed, one 92 the other 94"¦They both worked for a prestigious insurance company in New York City, back in the day. Last weekend my Dad, my cousin and my husband and I were looking at pictures in an old wooden album that is now falling apart... ("we'll have to put the pictures in another album Dad, but keep the original," I said...). They are pictures of The Good Old Days, in Southern Italy; during World War 2...There are pictures of Dad and his friend Bill -in their army uniforms- on bicycles- leaning on a jeep with other friends... "We got on quite well, Bill and I!"� Dad says. He says they didn't fight in combat, since most black men were not allowed to. "At least you didn't have to worry about getting killed", I say wryly... The "Good"� Old Days... In The Good Old Days, my father grew up in Washington D.C. with his mother, father, brother, sister aunts, uncles and grandmother. He went to Dunbar High school, a good school for academically oriented African American students. He went to college- Howard University," because it was expected... everyone in my family went to college!" The Good Old Days. In the Good Old Days, my father applied to Yale, Harvard, Howard, the University of Chicago and Columbia law schools, and got into all of them. He went to Harvard with another Howard friend, on the GI bill. He met Mom, a Teacher, in Cambridge. She visited her sister, who lived across the street from the place Dad was renting, on weekends. They dated, married, and when they had me, they said I was Dads' "Harvard Law School graduation present!"� The Good Old Days... Mom and Dad moved to New York, after Dad had explored other opportunities as far away as the state of Washington...In The Good Old Days, Dad worked for Mutual of New York, where he met Ed, who became a lifelong friend... We lived in Queens New York. Dad's army friend Bill and his family also lived there. They reconnected and the two families formed bonds that still exist through their children and grandchildren.... When I was nine, we moved to Greenburgh, New York, in Westchester County. Dad took the Metro North train, (yes the same train line that just had that horrible crash) from North White Plains to Manhattan and back, but it didn't crash... The Good Old Days... In those active Good Old Days, Dad was a swimmer, a runner, a Board of Education member, an involved civil rights community member, and a Discussion Group participant with Mom, among other things... I remember the civil rights era and hearing Andrew Young speaking at a gathering in someone's back yard. I remember my parents watching both Martin and Malcolm on the television and discussing the issues. I would watch too. I remember taking the bus with my family and friends to the March On Washington. I remember the crowds and crowds of people. I remember my friend and I had to go to the bathroom soooo bad. We had to wait sooo long, that when we got to the portable toilets, we didn't have to go anymore!!! I remember hearing King's booming voice and looking through the sea of people to see him speaking on the stage. We were well aware that we were witnessing history"¦.The Good Old Days"¦ In those Good Old Days, we went to D.C. every Christmas for our special extended family Christmas celebration; to my Mom's family in New Haven every Thanksgiving; to my Aunt and Uncle's summer house on Cape Cod every summer- where my brother and I, and sometimes friends that we were allowed to, bring, delighted in playing with our cousins... My Mom and her sister both worked in education. My Mom, as a Teacher, my Aunt, a Social Worker. They had summers off, so we had many carefree summer days... The Good Old days... In THESE good old days, Dad lives on his own. Mom is not there, having died over three years ago... He keeps her in his heart and often says "we" when we talk... He manages well, but is lonely... Most of his friends have died, including Bill. Ed is still around, as is his friend, Richard, who he met in law school and who also became a lifetime friend... They keep contact by telephone and visit each other when their sons drive them to each other's houses. Other friends have moved to nursing homes or assisted living homes, in these Good Old Days... Phone calls from us or a grandchild, his old secretary, or an old friend - makes a good day. My husband and I visit Dad and we talk about the news, read the papers or look at one of his, "Great Course" lectures on the weather, on physics, on music, on the cosmos, on religion....My Dad- still the lifetime learner, still the intellectual in these Good Old Days. My brother and family visit often also"¦ We talk strategies about helping our Dad, in these Good Old Days... Looking at the flowers bloom, the leaves turn, the snow fall, the birds flitter- from his rocking chair by the patio doors, makes these Good Old Days for my Dad. But the news is worrisome, as is the weather... These Good Old Days, aren't like THE Good Old Days...He thinks about his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren that he loves so much- that he has helped so much..."How will they be??? What will they become??? Remembering and reliving those times, those trips, those adventures, those challenges, those people, so special throughout the years...and the disappointments too, of The Good Old Days .in these Good Old Days... Remembering..... Remembering....Remembering....It's like yesterday, yet so far away... In these Good Old Days, as a retired Boomer myself, I remember The Good Old Days with my Mother and Father, with my brother, cousins and friends...with friends and family who have gone on... In these Good Old Days I cherish my family and my friends... I cherish those small every day treasures- like listening to a little granddaughter speak her first words...like adult children who are doing well in their lives, like a summer or midwinter sunset, like a beautiful song sung or music played, like a beautiful poem, or meaningful book...in these Good Old Days... In these Good Old Days I cherish my father more than words can say... I cherish every conversation, every visit, every hug, every photo"¦ I cherish our yearly visit to the family house at the Cape...Sometimes I call, and he sounds lonely, maybe bored"¦I say, "How are you Dad?" He answers, "I'm just here..." I say, "I'm GLAD"�... In these Good Old Days.....
