week 3 with grandpa & grandma

By now we've been back in Maryland for a couple of weeks, but I thought it would be good to post a blog about our last week in Indiana, if for no other reason than to finish the story. Finishing things is hard business for me; I much prefer starting. The long and the short of it is that J's grandparents are in a care facility now. Actually, that's just the short of it. Getting them there was the long of it. They got checked in under the supposition that it's for temporary physical therapy. Quite simply, they wouldn't have gone otherwise. And because of a loophole in their insurance or Medicaid or something, grandma had to be admitted to the regular hospital for three days first, for no specific reason, an ordeal in and of itself. Take people who are already confused and try explaining nonsensical actions to them. You're likely to start blibbering your fingers to your lips.

The weather didn't help at dreary and freezing. Also, one day that Uncle Jim was driving Grandpa's car to secretly check out a care facility, Grandpa's pride and joy that he rarely lets anyone else drive, a deer ran onto the highway and into the driver's door and window, making the vehicle undriveable, killing the deer, and furthering that unsettled feeling among the family. The whole thing was seriously stressful. But Jason and his uncles and aunt handled it beautifully. I did too - by staying out of the way. That, and by tenderly carrying a hard-boiled egg around for a couple of days, an egg I had obtained at the hospital breakfast buffet. What? It represented new life, hope, and simplicity, see. It was nice to feel in my jacket pocket or see on the dresser, all nestled in my faded red scarf.

In other happenings, we spent part of that third week at a nearby relative's house, which is an old, cool place. Here's a photo of it, taken around 1888. Look closely at the doorway in the background for Miss Freaky Deaky in her long black dress. The house looks essentially the same now, and we stayed in an upstairs room whose door closes very slowly with a long, loud creak. The wind even howls upon the windows.

To top it all off, there's a graveyard hidden amongst the trees near the edge of the property. We visited it on a wet, dreary day and thoroughly enjoyed the setup of family plots and the old gravestones, some of which marked deaths from the 1840's. As a boy, Jason walked through the surrounding fields right past this graveyard to get from grandpa's house to David's (who owns the old house). Jason says it's probably better he didn't know it was here. After we explored it on foot, he did a bit of internet research about the people buried here. The neatest thing he found posted was a letter that a Civil War soldier had written to one of the members of this family.


Our last several days were spent back over at grandpa and grandma's place, since they were in the care facility by then. It was a very rich time with Jason's uncles Jim and Ray and aunt Beth, who are all siblings to Jason's dad. We started the process of going through photos and belongings. That prompted many wonderful conversations about Jason's dad and other family members who are gone. We found geneology information showing that Jason does indeed have Amish blood in him, explaining his beard, his propensity to find non-electric gadgets like manual coffee grinders, and thinking children should obey the first time they're told. Do the Amish even drink coffee? If not, that's what you call a good blood blend; coffee, but made non-electrically. Before Jason and I left for Maryland again, we sat with Jim and Beth in a tight circle around the bowl of remaining Watergate salad, each with a spoon to scrape the edges.

Here we are with Uncle Jim, Aunt Beth, and a waitress statue.