Takeaways

What do you say about, how do you feel about, watching two very elderly handicapped people having a meal at a restaurant?

He has Alzheimer’s disease and from time to time tells the “younger” couple how delighted he is that they have travelled all this way to take them out for supper, but he doesn’t know quite who they are.

The woman has severe Parkinson’s disease and cannot control her limbs. Her body is constantly writhing — but her brain remains relentlessly alert.

Would you feel sorry for this elderly couple? Would you say you sure hope you don’t live to be that old? Well, don’t feel sorry — they don’t. They live life and love each other to the fullest, every minute of every day.

They are our Uncle Franklin and Aunt Emily (not their real names) and they have lived the life and then some.

During their lifetimes, she ran a private Montessori school, he worked at a California University with Saudi students, they lived in South Korea for two years after the Second World War, and have travelled and volunteered extensively.

They now live in Assisted Living in Santa Barbara. They could never have afforded this spacious apartment in a villa-like setting, save that they bought a small house in Pasadena, California, decades ago when ordinary folks could do that kind of thing. They sold it for an extraordinary price which became their luxury-living retirement fund.

Many of their neighbours are fellow teachers, so there are many education opportunities.

Franklin still goes for a walk every day, and Emily has water exercise classes. They enjoy classical music on their CD player and their three home-cooked meals in their dining room every day.

Because we are staying in Arizona for a few months, we had an opportunity to drive over and spend time with them for a day, and I’m so glad we did.

The drive through Los Angeles on a Friday night, during rush hour, in the rain, when we were almost out of gas, and absolutely starving and exhausted ... I’ll describe another time ... (BTW right now we are travelling Ventura Highway in the sunshine. The waves are rolling in and the surfers are rolling out. Heaven).

Laur was initially taken aback when he first saw them in their apartment this visit — he hadn’t seen them in eight years. Frank was the ever-considerate host, but he didn’t know who Laur was. And Em’s Parkinson’s has all but completely incapacitated her.

We were really not sure they could withstand a trip out for lunch. We asked their preference and Em stated categorically, “The Boathouse, and if we’ve got time after that I want to stop at Trader Joe’s for some chocolate.”

Getting them from their room to our car was an adventure in itself. Once Em gets behind her chariot (her walker) she is off like a shot, but someone had to stay with Frank because he gets easily confused. I ran after Em — her shirt should have been emblazoned with the “No Fear” symbol.

Laur stayed with Frank.

We arrived at The Boathouse which is literally at the side of the sea. The parking lot was packed, the restaurant, inside and out, was full to capacity — the wind seemed gale force to me — and the wait was going to be at least 30 minutes, outside, in the wind.

Em could not have been happier. She perched herself on a bench on the beach and proceeded to try to take pictures of the windsurfers and the ocean with her cellphone camera.

I placed my arm around her back, convinced (and with some justification) that the wind would blow her a*s over tea-kettle into the rocky sand behind her.

Frank and Laurence had a chat about the times they’d shared in the past and this conversation was to be repeated on many occasions that day.

Finally it was our turn, but at an outdoor table — an inside sitting would require another 30 minutes and I was very worried about Em catching her death of cold.

Plus we needed water for her 1 p.m. meds, which I was in charge of.

They were DELIGHTED to be able to sit outside and have an unimpeded view of the ocean. They both ordered what would turn out to be a massive, two-fist-sized club sandwich and fries.

Frank systematically ate his, one meticulously cut-off bite at a time. Em picked up her sandwich as best she could with her spastic arms and hands, and dug in.

I was sure she was going to choke, or lose the contents of her sandwich to the sandy floor. I started making helpful comments which she simply ignored.

Finally Laur signalled to me, “RELAX!”

I can’t say I relaxed, but I did prayerfully assign her fate to God and nature. It took her a while, but she managed to chow down almost her entire plateful of food, a feat normally reserved for Laurence alone.

By now, Laur and I were ready for a very long nap, but Em was just getting going. She directed us to Trader Joe’s, and would not hear of any other option.

The parking lot alone was all but unnavigable. And once in there, Em demanded (politely) her own scooter shopping cart.

The song “The Little Old Lady from Pasadena” (“Go grannie go”) is fun to sing at a '60s dance, but not so funny at a packed Trader Joe’s.

Nobody died; Em sang and lurched around the store filling her cart with various kinds of chocolate.

Laur stayed with Frank who needed to push a cart just for physical support. Once we had paid, Em insisted on driving her “go-cart” through the parking lot to our car, which was at the far end.

Santa Barbara is a wealthy town, and those vehicles were shiny and new — not a scratch or a dent on them. Que faire? Thankfully, a Trader Joe’s team member escorted our undisciplined team of seniors to our Intrepid. Gah!

We got them back to their apartment safely and us back to our hotel. We then repeated this adventure at a Vietnamese restaurant later that evening. Frank had accidentally eaten supper already at the assisted living centre, not remembering that we were going out, but he tucked away a serving of appetizers and a chicken dinner.

Em decided she was going to eat her meals with chopsticks and didn’t she do just that?!

We won’t see them again for at least another year and — who knows if they will still be living in 2014?

Then again, who knows if we will? But I do have some “takeaways” from this visit over and above the mountain of IHOP pancakes we were unable to finish off this morning): Do what you love while you can; and always find new things to love that you can do.

If I was American and wealthy, I’d move into the independent living section of their complex right now. Santa Barbara is beautifully lush, it’s warm and sunny, and there are lots of Asian food restaurants.

Do what I love while I can:
OK, we are moving to St. Catharine’s in two years, which is the Santa Barbara of Canada. We will spend our winters in lazy Arizona under the blue skies and surround by cacti, and we will spend a good part of our autumns in Korea or China, if we can rent out our home in St. Catharine’s to pay for our housing there.

Always find new things to love:
And I’ll find a non-profit senior’s complex in St. Catharine’s for Laur and me BEFORE we need it, and I’ll get involved in the volunteer activities there as a helper. I want senior’s Zumba, a cactus garden and an international menu all set up and waiting for Laurie and me.