I am 12 years into caring for my almost 98 year old mom. Mary Frances, to those who love her, has lived a life of love in service to God and country. She was a hub of our small town of Seaboard: Sunday School Teacher, Girl Scout leader, Eastern Star member, grandmother, great grandmother, confidant, ally, friend and neighbor. She was always been quick to laugh, quick to help, and certainly quick to love. She was and is truly everything anyone could want for a mother: wise, compassionate, generous and when needed, straight forward with the truth. Mom hs truly earned her crown(s) in heaven!
Part of a caregiver's journey is to move from empathy and sympathy to witness. By this I mean that it is easy to get tied up in the emotions that come as our loved one declines. Their strength dwindles, their conversation decreases, their ability to care for themselves drifts away. It can be painful to watch and I felt each loss so sharply and painfully in the early years of caregiving. As I learn and grow I have shifted my focus to bearing witness to my mom's decline instead. It may sound like a subtle difference but in fact, it is major one. Empathy and sympathy can swamp one in grief. Witnessings is about seeing and accepting the body's decline as a part of life. If anything, Mom taught me about acceptance. It's a tough lesson but one that usually comes with experience and is never really mastered. To put it succintly, I see where we are in Mom's journey.
Last night, on the first of Mom's bathroom trips, her knees started to buckle and I quickly sat her back on the bed and gave her a few minutes to wake up. She did, but I watched every step like a hawk thereafter. She settled back into her norm but I was aware that we are venturing further into unchartered territory.
All this is to say that after that experience I woke up with an earworm ,a song unbidden that filled my mind. To explain how I stumbled across this song in the first place takes me back to Dad.
Jack (or Mr. Jack to some!) was also an upstanding citizen of Seaboard, NC. A banker, a farmer, and a bit of a renaissance man, he was as straightlaced as they come. No drinking, at all. He was a classic, a rule follower, an upright man, a man of God. I remember once when he went on a business trip, he and his associates were out to dinner and the waiter took it upon himself to guess everyone's profession. He guessed my dad was a preacher!
So with this image of my Dad in mind, I delight in knowing that as a teenager, my dad loved to dance! In fact he did the jitterbug with his sister on the regular. To think of my dad cutting loose and dancing to swing just blows my mind. As a result, I fell in love with swing music.
Years ago, I happened upon Brian Setzer. If you don't know him he was a member of the Stray Cats in the 80s and moved on to the Brian Setzer Orchestra some years later. The big band rockabilly and swing sound is my jam and my earworm this morning was from the album The Dirty Boogie. It's a cover of This Ole House and if you don't know it, you should!
This song harkens back to the 1950s when the author, Stuart Hamblem, was out hunting with his friend John Wayne in the High Sierras. As told to the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel:
"The story: A friend of mine and myself were hunting up in the High Sierras. We found a little old cabin that had almost been demolished by a wild storm. The only living thing around it was a starving old hound dog. In the back room we found a little old prospector that had cashed in his blue chips.As I surveyed the wreckage of the storm, the friend of mine suggested that I write a song about all of this. About this old house, I said. And then I got the idea. Yes, this old house! Later on, riding down the canyon, with the old hound dog on the pommel of my saddle, taking him in to shelter and to food, I got to thinking.This old house, the ones made of wood and steel, shall all come down. And this old house of mine, made of clay, it's got to go too - but there's a big difference.Although the wooden house, the steel house, or brick house may be scattered in the winds of a wild storm and its debris scattered over the hillside, this clay house in which I live shall be scattered too. But . . . the soul inside shall, in God's own good time, be gathered with the saints. In other words, we're all getting ready to meet the saints."
Here are the lyrics:
This old house once knew my children
This old house once knew my wife
This old house was home and comfort
As we fought the storms of life
This old house once rang with laughter
This old house heard many shouts
Now she trembles in the darkness
When the lightnin' walks about
Ain’t gonna need this house no longer
Ain't gonna need this house no more
Ain't got time to fix the shingles
Ain’t got time to fix the floor
Ain't got time to oil the hinges
Nor to mend the window-pane
Ain't gonna need this house no longer
I'm gettin' ready to meet the saints
This old house is a-gettin' shaky
This old house is a-gettin' old
This old house lets in the rain
This old house lets in the cold
Oh my knees are gettin' chilly
But I feel no fear or pain
’Cause I see an angel peekin’
Through a broken window-pan
Ain't gonna need this house no longer
Ain’t gonna need this house no more
Ain't got time to fix the shingles
Ain't got time to fix the floor
Ain't got time to oil the hinges
Nor to mend the window-pane
Ain’t gonna need this house no longer
I'm gettin' ready to meet the saints
Now this old house is afraid of thunder
This old house is afraid of storms
This old house just groans and trembles
When the night wind flings its arms
This old house is a-gettin' feeble
This old house is a-needin' paint
Just like me, it's tuckered out
But I'm gettin' ready to meet the saints
Ain't gonna need this house no longer
Ain't gonna need this house no more
Ain't got time to fix the shingles
Ain't got time to fix the floor
Ain't got time to oil the hinges
Nor to mend the window-pane
Ain't gonna need this house no longer
I'm gettin' ready to meet the saints
Now my old hound dog lies asleepin'
He don't know I'm gonna leave
Else he'd wake up by the fireplace
And he'd sit there and howl and grieve
But my huntin' days are over
Ain't gonna hunt the 'coon no more
Gabriel done brought in my chariot
When the wind blew down the door
[Chorus]
Ain't gonna need this house no longer
Ain't gonna need this house no more
Ain't got time to fix the shingles
Ain't got time to fix the floor
Ain't got time to oil the hinges
Nor to mend the window-pane
Ain't gonna need this house no longer
I'm gettin' ready to meet the saints
(Ready to meet the saints)
Johnny Cash and the Statler Brothers
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| Mom with a BBQ Sandwich, her favorite, from Ralph's BBQ in Weldon, NC |
