LEAD:ELDERS

As the nation is faced with the baby boomers reaching their later years, we have seen the growth of nursing and retirement homes.  These places, however, are not for the average person but instead geared towards the wealthy population.  This leaves the other part of the elder population facing a huge question of where to live and how to afford it.  Other options include; burdening of family members by moving in with them, relying on state paid housing, having occasional care provided through such services as Home Instead, or relinquishing everything they own and just hoping that the money doesn’t run out while they are still alive.  These are the predicaments that the nations grandparents are facing as they live out their last days.

Uncomfortable Place

1)  Resurrection Park is a beautiful area with fountains, ponds, and large trees.  This is why my parents chose to be buried here.  They picked their plot several years ago on their 35th wedding anniversary.  It is a very peaceful and serene area.

2)  I chose this as my uncomfortable spot because it is the first place that came to my head.  My parents both passed away in July 2009.  I have only been back to Resurrection Park twice since then; once because I wanted to see if the grass had grown back in yet and the second time, for my aunt’s burial, which was the next plot over.

3)  Upon driving up, I stopped at the pond to watch the three ducks swimming around.  In the distance to the right, a single white car was parked near where I would park.  The ducks were making a lot of noise, apparently curious if I was going to come after them.  In the distance, sirens start going off as if several fire trucks are pulling out of the station one street over.  I pull up ten feet from my parents plot and “If I die Young” plays on the radio.  I see three people a couple rows down and the white car is driving towards the exit.  In the distance I can hear crows but I don’t spot them in the sky.  It is warm and I have on a t-shirt and jeans.  I stand in front of their grave for several minutes, silence.  The area in front of the stone is filled in, with weeds instead of grass.  It was mowed recently and dead grass has gathered at the base of the stone.  Around the base moss has grown to about five inches up.  I read the names and dates on the stone as if I have never read them before and deep down inside secretly hoping that they would change.  When they passed away, everything was already on the stone and the only thing that was added was the year they passed away.   As I get back in my vehicle a car pulls out from the management office a drives the other way.  “Without you” by David Guetta and Usher is playing on the radio as I start the engine and drive away.

4)  At the beginning I felt a little anxious.  As stated earlier, I have only gone to Resurrection Park twice since they have passed away.  I parked by the pond, simply to breathe.  As I pulled up next to their grave, I began to notice that my phone was malfunctioning and I kept losing service.  This actually was a little comic relief for me as I recalled episodes of “Ghost Hunters.”  On the show, they always refer to the ghost as energy suckers.  They will actually drain the batteries in their equipment.  Here, I watched the battery and service of my phone go from full bars to being barely able to “tweet” about my experience.  Standing in front of their grave, I could feel my chest tighten up.  Scenes from my childhood, my adulthood, and my time as their caregiver flashed before me.  I recall the service with the cars lining both sides of the drive.  I had a spot right in front and both times, carried the little marble boxes that I placed next to the granite stones.  I remember the fake grass carpet that lay over the whole previously dug below.  Bouquets of flowers and photographs covered the area around the box that contained the ashes.  These thoughts tighten my chest.  I have them often, perhaps even daily.  They haunt me a night as Freddy Krueger did as a child.    I felt like crap as I drove away.  Thinking my mother would have been proud of me for doing this.  She thought visiting grave sights was a form of showing respect.  I’m not sure that I feel the same way.  What, really does a grave stone symbolize? 

5)  Resurrection Park: a beautiful place to lay at rest

Resurrection Park, in the heart of Burlington, is a peaceful and serene burial ground.  Although there are several people buried here, the layout makes it seem secluded for each plot.  The hedges form a barrier of sorts among the rows.  There are many tall maple and oak trees that provide a calm sense of overall energy.  When driving into the park, two large ponds with fountains are off to the right.  Straight ahead you see trees, bushes, and hedges.  The majority of the stones are blocked by these gifts of nature.  Due to the fantastic layout, Resurrection Park was my parent’s first choice of where to be buried when the time came.

Interview

This is an interview with Laura Stevenson.  The angle of the interview was that she changed her writing and style due to things that were affecting her own life.  Her novels are based on Vermont settings modeling the families summer home that she had first been to at age five.  As she faces challenges in her own life, she realizes the importance of characters to experience some of the same or similar issues in her books.

Louella: Hello Laura, I’m Louella, nice to meet you (shake hands)

Laura: Nice to meet you too.  Louella is a very pretty name.

Louella: Thank you. I’m a writing student at Champlain College and I wanted to ask you a couple of questions about your writing, if you have time?

Laura: (grabbing her husbands arm says to him “stay here, she wants to ask me questions”) This is my husband, sometimes I need him for an interpreter

Louella:  Hello (I shake his hand) I’m curious what your inspiration was for writing the young adult book, All the King’s Horses?

Laura: Oh, have you read it?

Louella: No I haven’t but I’ve heard of it from your website and was hoping to buy it here but they don’t have it.

Laura: Three very dear friends of mine died of Alzheimer’s. Although I hadn’t heard from one in years, I received the news as I received a $10,000 from his will distribution.  It really happens quickly and is such a shame.  I wanted to be able to give back, do something to help end the disease.  You can order it on my website and I will even sign it and all the proceeds go to the Alzheimer’s Association.

Louella: oh good, I will do that.  Do you tend to write about real life situations in your books?

Laura:  I do and my style has changed as my interests and capabilities have changed throughout my career.  Starting out I really enjoyed history and wrote several books about the Elizabethan time period which I also taught classes in.  As I began to lose my hearing I had to use computers and microphones in the classroom and things got harder and harder.  I became more secluded.  I had just gone through a divorce and moved to Vermont where I was raising my two girls.  They were ten and eleven, at the time, and I wanted to write a book for each of them while also touching on some disabilities sense I was now becoming plagued by my own.  So I wrote All the King’s Horses on Alzheimer’s and A Castle in the Window on dyslexia.

Louella:  Have you noticed that your loss of hearing affected your writing and, how so?

Laura: By the time that I had my implants, hearing aides hadn’t worked for me in nine years.  So, I had nine years of total silence and I had some words with no understanding but they were afraid that I would have no understanding at all and basically have to learn meanings of spoken word all over.  It’s very odd.  I’ve written an article on it, it’s on my website.

Louella:  Is your recent book, Return in Kind an autobiography?

Laura:  My recent work, Return in Kind, is semi autobiographical, except, I didn’t lose my job.  At the time I moved to Vermont the Disability Act didn’t allow it.  In this novel some try to figure out who’s who.  Fiction is not cut and dry every writer borrows from other people’s lives around them, adding bits and pieces of fluff.  There is a debate on if this matters, if it’s not true or didn’t happen as shown, does it change the beauty?  So when asked if this is an autobiography, I say “well, yeah” but really some things did not happen that way entirely.  So this is a story that takes place in Vermont, its the world I grew up in.  Eleanor and her brother inherit the family farmhouse, along with 180 acres of land.  Eleanor, having recently been divorced, leaves all her belongings to Madford College, then moves to the farmhouse.  Her brother, without telling her sold his portion of the land for $800,000 and now that land, which is adjacent to hers, is being developed.  This is her realization of that and how she deals with it for a portion of her life.  The book opens in 1994.  So some of that is autobiography and some, I just expounded.

Louella:  It really sounds like your books are a timeline as you write about things that are at the fore front of your life.  Writing young adult books when your children were young adults and writing an autobiography when you were alone without hearing.

Laura:  That is true, I guess.  I wrote, in my college years about history, then I turned to disabilities as I addressed mine.  I guess the most recent was looking at myself as I went through my seclusion as a disabled individual.

Louella:  I want to thank you for your time as it looks as though they are motioning for you in the room.  It was very nice talking to you.

Laura:  It was nice meeting you.  Make sure you go to my website if you want a copy of All the King’s Men.

A Year In Life

Cold dark white

covers everything

i knew this day

would come

but i’m not ready

all i hear is

“i’m tired. i want 

to enjoy spring”

i don’t know what its like

so i cant argue

he just stares

i wonder if he understands

the battle is almost

over

she is a survivor

but all things end

the hospital is cold

she is here

once again

this place so familiar

long white halls

never ending

i give directions to 

strangers

i fear this is only

the beginning

with no deterrent

the evil will

run rampant

grow stronger

like a kid at school

the whole body

now its playground

they can no longer be 

alone

like a child again

i clear space

in their fifty year

collection

i build walls, i lay carpet

i distract myself from the

reality

i wonder

about time

thinking we have 

some

knowing i want

more

feeling i could never

have enough

belongings fill

the new rooms

quickly

this is now home

once again

confusion sets in

limits are tested

unbalanced

spring has arrived

flowers, birds, buds

are prevalent

outside on the porch

i read out loud

she listens and smiles

i am brought back to

childhood

except we have changed

roles

innocent

i dont know if 

she understands

blank stares

no curiosity

no questions

there were always 

questions

i’m staying home

more and more

panic sets in

afraid to not be

here

she has fallen

she is weak

sleeps often

friends visit, sing

she is happy

he watches her

amazed at how much

is lost

their time together

now just a blur

they are like strangers

so disconnected

but knowing that they need

each other

love remains

the same

air gets thicker

sun beats down

pollen is abundant

she sleeps

he doesn’t feel well

himself

trouble breathing

things blur

panic sets in

whirlwind

diagnosis

unprepared

caught off guard

the use of oxygen

its all too much

we all are tired

disbelief

it needs to slow down

nights are spent awake

baby monitors

in separate rooms

time slowly goes by

too fast

downward spiral

she sleeps more

mind wanders

panic sets in

morphine

panic sets in

deterioration

panic sets in

desperation

anxiety

he watches baseball

they rarely talk

she is silent

her body weak

her mind is 

lost

searching

she is gone

gone like our 

innocence

goodbyes

“i only want to hear her say 

good morning”, he says

he is lost without

her

delusions and discontentment

wanting to be with her

his will stronger

than anything

I’ve witnessed

he is gone

gone like our

innocence

its me

alone

twelve days

lost confused

crushed

sill alive

barely breathing

constantly without

searching

for answers

reassurance

stability

sense of home

sense of self

twelve days

praying

to a God

I don’t believe in

everything will

change

air is crisp

leaves red, orange

brown

back to reality

barely breathing

distraction

wanting out

no concentration

memories flash

tears

everything is gone

everything is them

constant reminders

everywhere

block emotion

i cant get away

clean out

begin again

breathe

snow falls

like a blank

canvas

in need of 

life

i try

i stumble

i get back up

breathe

magical moments

festive

blanket of snow

reflecting lights

choirs sing

trees light up
families gather

i am lost

picking up the

pieces

i’m surviving

breathe

cold dark white 

covers everything

i knew this day 

would come

The Blackboard

i sit here in the chair

   wondering if life is fair

as i look at her, so dear

   she doesn’t remember why i’m here

she knows the birds by their call

   she doesn’t realize it will soon be fall

she has no concept of time

   to her the cardinal is sublime

she marvels at the tallest trees

   more so at the slightest breeze

she pictures dragons in the sky

   as she watches the clouds go by

she knows when it is dinner time

   with her friends, she stands in line

to them she doesn’t know what to say

   she always smiles anyway

she doesn’t know she was once a dean

   it was an honor to reign supreme

with one swipe it has been erased

   no memory of a name or face

instead she has been wiped clean

   like the rocks in a flowing stream

or the blackboard at the front of class

   not knowing what she remembered last

The last time that I was frightened...

The last time that I felt frightened was the night before last. Hurricane Irene was on her way towards our state. All I could think about was ten years ago, while sleeping in my old bedroom, the tree falling on the house. It wasn't a hurricane then but instead, just a big gust of wind, later estimated at 75 mph. The dead of night, 2 am and I was awoken by books falling off the shelve behind me and onto my head, along with branches and water. I was soaking wet. My original shelter and all protecting home was now crumbling under the weight of the tree. The first thing I could think of was to get help. My mother called 911 and I ran across the road to my Uncles house. I realized in the morning that I had run within inches of a downed live electrical wire that had also been taken down by the tree. The fire department came, the first response team was there, and my cousin with his equipment to lift and cut the tree off the house. The emergency team was surprised that we had all made it out alive as the six foot in diameter tree stopped inches above where I had lay on the bed. The whole corner bedroom had been torn away from the rest of the house.
Now here comes Irene and she's pissed off for some reason. The trees around the house are taking the brunt of her anger as they sway back and forth and try not to break.