The Caregiver’s Tales: A Blog

We planted five oaks when we moved into this house sixteen years ago. Two Chinquapin. Four Lacy. And a Burr. The Lacys and one Chinquapin are part of the original planting. The Burr is the second of its kind, as is one of the Chinquapin. The current batch is doing well. I stand in their shade, strain to see the tops while there, and two of the Lacys are starting to overtop the drive, while another offers shade to our visitor parking spot.

Spent my evening yesterday with people making music. An open mic, welcome to all comers, and they came. The evening is hosted by a friend which is what gave me my initial boost of courage several months back. I’m not real sure why I needed it. Sixty years ago, when I first picked up the guitar, I had a trio and we’d play for anyone at the drop of a hat. I guess as the years wore on, I learned how much I didn’t know, and that began to give me pause. These days, in the twilight of my life, my nerves twitch when I play for strangers.

Two years ago, in November, I hiked to the top of Gudalupe Peak, the tallest mountain in Texas. I got up the next day and did a seven-mile hike. Five months later, I had an abdominal aortic aneurysm repaired. I shut down. I haven’t been on a monumental hike since. Lots of short ones, but nothing like that one year of the South Rim and the Peak. Mostly, I’ve chalked it up to letting my body heal and age, but I hardly ever think of those seven stents anymore. So, that excuse is long gone. I think it’s time to strap on the boots and backpack and get moving.

Made a tactical error before bed last night. Ate some spice drops, my candy treat. Sure enough right about 1:30 the sugar hit my system, and up I popped. I know better than to eat before bed, but the drops were there on the counter begging to be eaten. I obliged. My suddenly awake brain thought it was time to work, so it dredged up some 1990’s workplace memories for me to mull. I said no thanks. Got up, took a big drink of water, and got back to sleep.

I’ve worn the letters c, d, l, and k off my computer keyboard. You would think e would have been the first to go since it’s the most used letter in the English language. But I’m betting the demise of d, l, and k has something to do with the fact that my fingers rest on them as I type. J and F are protected by little protrusions that identify them as index finger keys, anchor points for the hands of a typist. C is most likely the victim of ctrl-c. The copy shortcut.

An inevitable consequence of aging is the increasing number of Sad Anniversaries peppering my life. I’ve lost acquaintances, friends and family. And not only have I suffered losses, but my friends have suffered losses, and the closer they are to me, the more I know about them. And because we’re close we all share the pain, which is probably helpful, although the pain of grief is so deeply personal, that it’s hard to know what’s going on inside the mind of the one grieving. Still, we do our best and hope that it’s enough.

There was a time when the noise of the highway down the street from us abated. Late at night and early in the morning. Those days are gone. The sound of rubber on asphalt comes at all hours now. The road between Johnson City and Fredericksburg, once country, has a winery and tasting room for nearly every mile between the two cities. Even Hye, a wide spot just down the road, has a winery and a distillery.

Television, once central to my life, is no longer. I go days sometimes without turning on the television. I think it started when I cut the cable cord. Streaming is slightly more complicated. You have to remember what service has what show. And you can binge them, so with one good evening you can consume an entire season. And if you miss a show’s weekly appearance, you can catch up, which means the tune-in imperative is gone.