Spring is springing…kind of.

I actually went out for a walk in a tank top and flannel shirt today. Yesterday I spent a blissful hour+ in my favorite junkyard. My mental heath has taken a turn for the better.

Yeah, I know, it’s been a long time since my last post. So here is what you don’t know:

The heron is finished and installed and it is fabulous if I do say so myself. The grand unveiling was supposed to happen last week but that wonderful spring snowstorm put the kibosh on the festivities. So they have been postponed to Thursday April 12th at 4 p.m. Why aren’t I posting pictures? Well, I want to keep it a surprise until it’s official viewing. Of course if you happen to be at Piney Run Park in Carroll County, MD in the next few weeks, you could walk down to the main dock…just sayin’. (just don’t post photos until after the 12th). If you can’t make that…here’s a sneak peek during installation.

In other news, I have been finishing up some things in the studio that got put on hold until the heron left the building. Here’s a woven piece that I have been working on for a while. It is 82″ long and is designed to go on the floor.

And finally, I thought I would share my photos from yesterday. I think the classes I have been taking are helping me to focus my ability to see stuff and to capture it more clearly. I am still working with the theme of aging and decay…

See you in April!!!

I want

Technology these days is fascinating. New advances every minute, and all marketed to look like it’s the next thing since sliced bread. And yet, in my mind, most of it is based on male fantasies born from sic-fi movies and James Bond. A watch you can use as a phone and will tell you how many steps you’ve walked? A chance to change your reality by wearing a pair of boxy glasses? A car that tells you when to turn, when to stop and how far until the next McDonald’s, all shown in the windshield? (Mind you, I really would like to have the ability to teleport. Having tea with my sister in Seattle and being home by dinnertime sounds quite lovely.)

Some of these things are practical and do make life easier. I love the idea of GPS, my anxieties about getting lost in a strange city have diminished enormously. And, since my eye sight is going, I don’t have to try to read the teeny tiny words on the Rand McNally street map anymore…while I am driving. I also love that I can put things into my calendar on my computer and they magically appear on my phone. So do the books I download. And I can’t do without the ability to find out any information I need simply by pressing a few buttons. Encyclopedia Britannica has nothing on Google. Don’t even talk to me about giving up my digital camera (or phone).

So what is it that I want? I want technological ideas to be selected by 50 + year old women. That’s when you will get super practical ideas on how technology can help with real life. Here are some suggestions.

1 . Envision this: You are sitting in the dentist’s office waiting to be seen. The dentist comes out to the reception area, sees you, smiles and says “Hey Virginia, how are you doing today?” You smile in response and freeze a little bit because for the life of you, you can’t come up with his name. The man who has been intimate with your mouth (so to speak) for 10 years and your brain draws a blank. So you say “I’m well, how are you?” and wonder if he notices that you didn’t call him by name.

What if you were wearing a pair of glasses that flashed his name on the screen in front of your eyes as your dentist walked up to you? Or what if it flashed the word that you all of a sudden can’t remember right in the middle of a sentence during a VIS (very important speech). What if it reminded you of your granddaughter’s boyfriend’s favorite band when you see him? Yup, I thought so. Forget virtual reality, I want virtual memory glasses.

2.  Envision this: you know you are losing your hearing but you don’t want to wear hearing aides. They make you look like you are deaf AND they don’t always help you to hear what you want to because they make everything louder. It’s fine when you are sitting with one person, but when you are in a crowd, then it is super confusing.

What if you had an invisible hearing aide that automatically understood what you wanted to hear and could block out the rest, or at least tone it down? Anyone who has ever been in a recording studio knows that it is possible to do this on recordings. Now we just need to have the technology that does this in real time.

3. Envision this: You are lying in bed all snuggly and warm when you start to feel a tingly feeling. “Shit” you think, “here it comes again”. The next thing you know, you have flung the covers off, thrown your nightgown as far across the room and started fanning yourself. Yup, it’s the dreaded hotflash. Then, a few minutes later, just as you are starting to feel comfortable, the heat dissipates and you are left shivering in the middle of the bed.

What if you had a sensor that knows when you are about to experience this and adjusts the climate control in your house? So, five minutes before a hot flash, the air-conditioning comes on and blows cool air in the room so that when the internal toaster oven turns on your room is nice and cool. Then it knows when to turn off the AC and turn the heat back on so that you son’t have to spend 10 minutes trying to find your nightgown and pulling the covers back on. This is much better than being able to change your climate control when you aren’t even home.

I’m sure I can come up with many more ideas…just give me some time. If you have your own suggestions I’d love to hear them!

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From the studio:

In case you were wanting to know what’s happening in the studio, I am almost done with a sculpture, I have figured out what my next animal is (not telling) and I attended an opening reception of the National Juried Show at the Delaplaine in Frederick MD on Saturday. My piece, “BOUND”, was nicely placed for optimal viewing and got some really lovely comments.

Next up on the schedule, the open studio on the 21st and 22nd of May.

Tatay, part 3

It’s taken me a while to sit in front of the computer with the time and inclination to write this last post about Tatay. If you haven’t read part one and two, then I suggest you start with those to make sense of what I am writing about.

Tattoo’s viewing and funeral were this past week. I was unable to attend the funeral but I did get a chance to attend the viewing. Once again, I am super aware that customs are different across families and cultures. This was evident at the viewing which was more like a celebration and music recital than a viewing. Yes, Tatay was on view, but the family was more interested in sharing what he was like and their love for him to the people who came out of love and respect.

I will admit, I have had a fantasy of telling the story I told in the last post at his funeral. So  when we were asked (while they were trying to figure out a technical difficulty, something about showing the myriad of pictures they had of him) whether anyone had any memories of Tatay, one of Fe’s sisters poked me from behind and said…”Tell your story”…

So I did.

And it was wonderful, lots of laughter, lots of warm feelings. And in true Nieves fashion, another of Fe’s sisters told me Tatay needed a ride home after the viewing.

There are lots of little memories I could have shared…standing in the garden pulling weeds and looking up to see Tatay through the window of their house while he was  painting something beautiful. Tatay sweeping the driveway every day. Tatay saying “Eat”…before I had even taken my coat off. Imagining Tatay in his red scooter that his son-in-law got him so that he could drive the mile through neighborhoods to see his wife. Tatay laughing and smiling…always. Tatay sticking around at every party until the end…often lasting longer than I did. Tatay sitting in the living room listening to his grandchildren play the piano, the flute, dance, sing…whatever they were doing at the moment…and clapping.

Tatay saying, when I asked him how he was, saying “Well…I am still here”.

But I think that the image that I remember the most, is the yearly event, the birthday party. The numbers kept climbing. The grandchildren got older. The balloons for 105 had to be pulled together from a one, zero and a five. But the smile and the twinkly eyes stayed the same. He was surrounded by the people who meant the most to him, his grandchildren. They kept him young, he said. And I believe him.

with a small portion of grandchildren…and Nanay, of course.

Oh, yeah…this was the year that the person who took the cake order didn’t quite understand that the name was Tatay, not Tangle. Instead of anger, exasperation and annoyance, this was met with gales of laughter by the whole clan…yet another Tatay story to add to the list.

 

release

Here are some comments made this past weekend by my father.

“I think it’s time for me to come back to civilization.”

“I keep thinking I’m in Florida.”

“What town are we in?”

“Who are those people outside?”

“What is my nurse’s name?”

“Where are you living?”

“Where have you been? I’ve been pining for you. Where have you been the past two days?”

“Where are you from?”

“How far away is that?”

“Do you have children? How old are they?”

“Who are those people outside?”

“Who was that man? I know him very well but I can’t remember his name.”

“Have you seen the head woman? What is her name again?”

“I think in my 95th year I’m going to retire.”

 

I think you get the picture. Dad has stepped further along the dementia path. He knew who my sister and I were, but couldn’t really come up with our names or where we were from. His ability to track time and place is gone for the most part. And it seems that life happens in very short spurts for him, then it happens again. And again. And…

It is fascinating what he does remember though. He knew that Saturday was the memorial service for his long time friend, my godfather, Al Sly. And he was thrilled we were there so that we could go together. I am also very glad I was able to sit with him and share a hymnal and prayer book and point out which hymn to sing. As an ex-organist, I was pretty sure he would have no problems singing the hymns. The Lord’s prayer seemed beyond him but it’s possible he couldn’t hear what we were saying.

(I just read an article that said that hearing loss and dementia were linked. Duh. It is harder to be in the world if you can’t hear what is going on. But really, even if he could hear, I think his ability to take in the words, figure out their meaning and come up with a response is mostly beyond him. Although he sometimes can surprise me by coming out with some gem of an answer that shows that, at least at that particular moment, he has grasped exactly what is going on.)

So where does the release come from? It comes from the fact that in some weird way, now that he has progressed so far, I feel absolved of my duty of trying to make him happy, of visiting him, of taking him out to lunch, of playing a game of Scrabble with him. I have done my share of this over the past few years, especially after mom died (which was five years ago this week). I don’t feel the need to check in on him and make sure everything is okay. He has an army of kind, caring people taking care of him, ones whom he recognizes almost more than his children. And I feel for the first time like I can really let go of that part of him that has resided in my brain for my whole life and just focus on ME. Even as I write this I feel the guilt and shame and thoughts of selfishness that over the years have caused me to stop everything in order to help him in some way. I know I am and have been a good daughter but I will always feel like I could have done more…it’s the nature of the beast. So before you start saying that he could still enjoy my visits, I know that. The thing is, I don’t enjoy those visits, and I have done a LOT of things I didn’t enjoy in order to make him (and my mother before she died) happy. Call me ungrateful, but stick a fork in me, I am done.

So what now? Well, I will continue to explore my artistic life. That is the most exciting thing for me. In the past year or so, I have been able to develop, expand, deepen, and redefine my creativity. My plan is to continue this exploration. My experiences with dementia will, no doubt, show up at some point. I have signed up for a trip to Namibia in November, which will bring about a long-time desire to go to Africa. And I plan to spend more time simply being…but that is the start of another blog post. Stay tuned…

I’ll end with one of my favorite photos of the recent 2 1/2 foot snowstorm…Ginger always expresses my sense of tiredness better than I can…

it is too exhausting trying to move around in this snow…but it is easier to get up on the rock!

 

 

 

untitled

Lately I’ve been writing posts in my head but when it comes down to typing them out, I draw a blank. I can’t even seem to come up with a title. I have been doing this blogging thing for three years now and it has morphed many times. People (you) have come and gone, and I find it difficult to keep playing the game to encourage new readers. I know, it sounds like I am breaking up with you guys…never fear, I am just acknowledging there are natural fluctuations in any relationship, they all take some work, even blogging relationships require maintenance.

That being said, this is also a difficult time for me. Christmas, while a lovely time of year, has always been tough for various reasons. This year is no exception. My dad has started running faster (wheeling?) down the path of dementia. At 94, it seems his brain is no longer able to keep up with the world as it is and he is starting to disappear. He can still put a “z” on the triple word score, but does not know that he got 60 points for it. (As always, Scrabble is a really good cognitive litmus test.) He doesn’t seem to be concerned or anxious, for which I am grateful. It is just weird to know that my larger than life, narcissistic father is slowly crossing the threshold to another consciousness and he’s going all alone.

At the same time, my godfather, who finally retired last year as organist and church secretary of the Methodist church…at the age of 90…has complications due to pneumonia. This is a man who’s presence has always been part of my life, even if I have gone a long time without seeing him. He was my father’s organ teacher. I took voice lessons from him when I was auditioning for colleges. In recent years, he has been one of my main pillars of emotional support every time I have gone to visit/take care of my parents. He played Vidor’s toccata for my mother’s funeral. (My dad stood with us in the front row of the church, facing the balcony, and listened to the whole thing and then applauded…it was a wonderful moment.) He is a gentle man, an amazing musician, has a lovely sense of humor…I could go on and on. I could always rely on a big smile and a hug when I popped into the church office to say hello. He is in my thoughts these days… big time.

So you can see that my mind is not all about lightness and happiness right now. I have not been taking lots of pictures lately, but I found this one in the camera from one of the rare days where we actually had a frost. Somehow I think it’s appropriate. I found this praying mantis in the bowl of my buddha fountain. Even in death he prays to Buddha.

Buddha holds the spirit of the dead praying mantis

looking behind

Have you ever walked through a pile of leaves, then looked behind you to see what kind of trail you left? How about walking through the snow? Ever looked to see where your footprints landed? Were you surprised at how much you scuff your heels on the ground? Are you the kind of person who is aware that other people are behind you when you go through a door so you hold the door open for them?

I recently spent some time in CT seeing my 94 year old dad. He is starting to spend more time in two worlds, this one and the one in his mind. I can’t follow him through the door of the other one, I can only hope to share time with him when he’s in this one. That requires some extraordinary patience on my part, waiting for him to form his thoughts, then waiting for him to put his thoughts into words. Often this is a slow, yet creative endeavor, for he is no longer able to pull words out of the hat in the way that he did for most of his life. Mind you, he can still beat me at Scrabble, it’s just that he is unable to come up with simple sentences to explain what he is thinking. I find I spend my time thinking about what came before, what he was like a few years ago, what he would have said about Donald Trump running for president…and I feel sad. But when I look back at my footsteps of this weekend, I feel that I left behind good feelings, a connection that my father enjoyed, even if he won’t remember all of it.

While I was in CT, I walked on the old railway tracks that were turned into a walking path many years ago. This path runs behind the house that my parents owned. I took pictures of the path ahead, and the one behind me. I took the time to make my homage to Andy Goldsworthy. There are some new benches on the trail and I thought one of them needed to be adorned by the seed pods that decorate the pathway at this time of year.

ahead

behind

the bench

P.S. As I was writing this post in my head, the events in Paris (and Beirut and Egypt) unraveled and I feel that I must write a postlude of sorts. While I am the type of person who looks behind me to see what my presence has left on this earth, I can’t even fathom the idea of doing so and seeing dead bodies. My mind will not wrap itself around this image. Causing pain, discomfort and death is such an anathema to me that I cannot even begin t0 understand the life experiences that can lead some to do this willingly. However, I also know that if I am not careful, I can absorb the pain and chaos of the last few days into my psyche and become debilitated in my creativity. So to counterattack this, I offer you one last image of what Izzy thinks about all of this.

Izzy

 

fog

The fog outside

matches that

in my brain.

It is a day

when clarity is

elusive

and one long nap

seems imperative.

A day to

hear the phone ring

in the distance

and pull the covers

over my head

to block out

the sound.

A day to

wear the wrong shoes

and tromp in the snow

to take pictures

of the hopes

and tears

of spring.

through the fog

barely there

drip

in the rain

a glimpse of colors to come