The homeless?

My friend asked me about the homeless. In many of my social media posts, I have mentioned speaking to some homeless folks.

It occurred to me, at the moment he asked, that not one time has anyone told me they were homeless. Were they homeless, the ones my assumptions were about?

That question began a process in my mind that made me remember everyone that comes in contact with me is an individual. They all have their own stories. There’s no such thing as one size fits all in my life anymore.

To find out if someone was homeless, I would need to ask or be told by them. To find out why, it would be necessary for me to ask or be told.

Assuming, for me, is a shortcut that I will try not to take anymore.

He said he doesn’t understand me . . .

We chatted on the phone this evening. He told me he didn’t understand me working so diligently to keep mom going, but at the same time speak of the hardships it presents for both of us.

My response came quick, from somewhere. “It’s human to not understand stuff, like you don’t understand me. It’s human to want my mom to continue to live, breathe and enjoy what may be. It’s human for me to speak of the tough times for us both, so all is good

We chatted a few more minutes and said our goodbyes. He called back and said he understood.

The bottom line . . .

This is a photo from a couple of months ago. Mom is 91 years old and her son, me, is 69.

A friend of mine is a neuroscientist. He is also a grant writer. He has the ability to take ideas of great significance and arrange words that explain those ideas, in great detail, with as few words as I have ever seen.

With that in mind, here is my attempt at doing that, with a summation of most of my life at this moment in time.

My life is mostly about keeping my mom safe and staying as healthy as possible myself.

A bitter disappointment 

Approximately four years ago today I was heading across America again, to raise awareness and money for the Alzheimer’s Association. Several phone calls with mom were beginning to convince me that the trip might not happen. Seven days later, I became a caregiver.

All that has happened, the adjustments and such are just part of a wonderful story that I call life, and life is good.

This post makes me long for the days I was pushing my jogging stroller in 2013 and grateful for those times.

I was on foot for 2,594 miles and in the passenger seat of a car for another 458.

Why the words? “A bitter disappointment” Because I have no desire to try and rewrite history. It was a bitter disappointment, but I showed up and did the work.

Make your bed . . .

“If you want to change the world, start off by making your bed. If you make your bed every morning, you will have accomplished the first task of the day. It will give you a small sense of pride, and will encourage you to do another task, and another, and another. By the end of the day, that one task completed will have turned into many tasks completed. Making your bed will also reinforce the fact that the little things in life matter. If you can’t do the little things right, you’ll never be able to do the big things right. If, by chance, you have a miserable day, you will come home to a bed that is made. That you made. And a made bed gives you encouragement that tomorrow will be better.” ~ William H. McRaven

Persistence!

“Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not: nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not: the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent.” ~ Calvin Coolidge

My first time seeing the Pacific Ocean . . .

I walked down Reservation Rd and into the sand at the Marina State Beach. This was my first glimpse of the Pacific Ocean. I remember the wind was blowing and only one other person was within site. I felt alone, but peaceful. Maybe someday again.

A passersby took this photo

My trip had began at Skidaway Island State Park, near Savannah, Georgia. My feet had taken me to Kingman, Arizona. A friend drove me to Paso Robles, California and from there I was on foot again.

In eleven months, one hundred pounds were shed . . .

How could I have possibly lost 100 pounds in 11 months. The next two paragraphs will give an explanation of sorts.

I ate approximately 1800 calories every day. Here is the estimated breakdown of those calories. 50% carbohydrates, 30% protein and 20% good fat. 75% of the calories were eaten before 1:00pm and none were consumed after 6:00pm.

Monday, Wednesday and Friday would see me doing aerobic exercise for around 30 minutes. Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, resistance training for about the same time, 30 minutes. Sunday was a rest day. Some yoga, stretching and balance moves were mixed in with each workout.

My weight loss came because I burnt more calories than I consumed.

Another factor was the motive! The Intensive Care Unit woke me up!

Yep, I became a caregiver and I am getting old . . .


I had conversations with a lot of caregivers in 2013. Mostly though, they shared their experiences and I listened. Would I ever become a caregiver?


Here I sit, posting this, on January 15th, 2020, and in 9 days it will be 4 years that I have been here. Mom is 91 years old.


About mid 2015, stuff started changing. Pain crept in, my peers, in large numbers, were getting sick and/or becoming immobile, and some were dying. Was I getting old?


Getting old, for me, has taken some getting used to. I aim to continue on, doing stuff, staying busy, being relevant. I want to keep climbing my mountains and when he comes to get me, I will go, but may ask for another day. I like it here!

Manage your resources – aging

In mom’s circle of friends and family, she noticed something a few weeks ago. Three of them were no longer either coming by, returning calls of initiating phone calls.

We did some checking, because she was concerned, and found out the situations with each, had changed.

The changes had to do do with either a sickness, death or a living situation. All three, in one way or another, had to do with aging.

Aging takes a lot of management.