The Ladies of Forest Trace: IRIS, ISIS, ISIL

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Wednesday September 17, 2014 · 7:31 AM PDT

2014/09/17 · 07:31

These days I call my mother at least once a day.

For decades, we used to speak on Sundays. At precisely 12:00. She loved to demonstrate that she was in command of all her faculties by dialing at the stroke of noon, feeling especially proud of herself on those two time-change Sundays a year when we leapt forward or fell back. Those calls always began with a proud, self-satisfied chuckle.

But now that she is nearly three months past 106 and losing stamina and concentration, since I want as much of her as I had in the past when our conversations would last an hour or so, now my seven to ten calls a week add up to about that amount of time. I also know that we're nearing . . .

I want the time together, just being with her, but also to hear her very-late-in-life thoughts.

* * *

zwerlst

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Tuesday July 29, 2014 · 6:00 AM PDT

2014/07/29 · 06:00

“If you want to talk to me you have to call between winks.”

“Between what?”

“I’m sleeping all the time. Twenty winks.”

“Forty.”

“Forty what?”

“Winks. You’re catching 40 winks.”

“So call me later when I’m awake. When I’m not winking.”

zwerlst

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Monday June 30, 2014 · 5:37 AM PDT

2014/06/30 · 05:37

It was two days after my mother's 106th birthday and I called to run an idea by her.

"I have a theory."

"A what?"

"A theory, a perception I want to ask you about. It's something I've been noticing for the past number of years."

"How big a number? I'm trying to get used to big numbers. But before you tell me about your ideas, I have a related question for you."

"Shoot."

"Is this the way you talk to a mother? About shooting?"

"Sorry, please, ask me your question."

zwerlst

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Tuesday May 27, 2014 · 6:20 AM PDT

2014/05/27 · 06:20

When I answered the phone, I heard my mother sigh.

"Soon, it will be another year."

"You mean, another birthday?"

"What kind of future do I have?"

"In truth, Mom, you've been saying that for years. Many years. Since before you turned 100 and here you are only a month away from 106. Amazing."

"For you maybe amazing . . . For me, too much." As she has recently, she sounded breathless.

"I admit, I've thought about that too. After all . . ."

"I have no time for after-alls."

"So, what's on your mind?" I wanted to distract her from thinking about aging and the inevitable.

zwerlst

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Tuesday April 08, 2014 · 10:15 AM PDT

2014/04/08 · 10:15

When Frank Rich is booked to appear on the Rachel Maddow Show I try to tune in. I like the way he sees through the hypocrisy that passes for political discourse and though he is an unashamed progressive is not above giving Democrats corrective grief when he sees them pandering or posturing.

The other night he joined Rachel to mark what they claimed was the end of the Obamacare debate. With up to 10 million newly signed up to be covered through health insurance exchanges or enrolled in Medicare, plus millions more young people covered by their parents' policies, they proclaimed there will be less political advantage to Republicans to keep bringing it up.

zwerlst

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Wednesday March 12, 2014 · 8:31 AM PDT

2014/03/12 · 08:31

“You know how much your mother likes us to come to dinner with her and her friends.”

“Didn’t we . . .?

“We didn’t,” Rona said. “At least not this year. Last winter once or twice but . . .”

“We should,” I quickly agreed, knowing we would wind up there for dinner no matter what excuses I might make. Among other things I hate eating at 5:00. And then there is . . .

More about my resistance I am reluctant to reveal. So we made arrangements to join my mother and the “girls” last week.

zwerlst

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Thursday February 13, 2014 · 8:46 AM PST

2014/02/13 · 08:46

An hour into our most recent visit, for the third time my mother asked, "Is it Saturday?"

And for the third time I said, "No, Mom, it's Monday."

"So you see, as I keep telling you, I am losing my memory." Looking at me, as if to explain, she pointed to her temples. "Soon I won't know who I am."

"On the contrary," I tried to assure her, "Your memory is fine, even for someone much younger than you."

"Everyone's younger than me."

"That's remarkably true," I said, smiling proudly, "And wonderful."

"So why don't I know what day it is?" she persisted.

"Neither do I," I said, half truthfully.

zwerlst

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Monday February 03, 2014 · 4:22 AM PST

2014/02/03 · 04:22

"Come over as soon as . . . you can. There's something . . . I need to talk to you about."

My mother, short of breath, sounded ominous. I thought, considering her age, was this the . . .

"Are you OK?" I asked, not really wanting to know the truth.

"Come."

"We'll be there in 35 minutes." I was already looking for the car keys and signally to Rona to get ready.

"Just you."

"Me? Alone?" That was unprecedented. Rona and I have always visited together.

"You. There's something . . ." She didn't or couldn't finish and hung up.

zwerlst

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Monday January 13, 2014 · 8:59 AM PST

2014/01/13 · 08:59

"Did you see him on TV?"

"Who?" I asked my nearly 106-year-old mother, who was calling from Forest Trace, the retirement community in South Florida where she has lived for almost 20 years.

"Chris Crispy."

"I missed him. I know he had a news conference to talk about--"

"The bridge."

"Yes, the George Washington."

"How his people closed it to get revenge against the mayor who didn't support him for election."

"Of Fort Lee."

"That's the place."

zwerlst

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Friday January 03, 2014 · 6:32 AM PST

2014/01/03 · 06:32

Like clockwork, for decades, at precisely noon on Sundays, my mother would call. In fact, she was so regular in doing this that it would generate genuine concern if she was even a minute late.

I would look at Rona, she would look back at me with a worried face and I would ask, "I wonder if anything is wrong."

"She's probably on the phone with someone else," Rona would say, as much to calm herself as me.

Invariably, on those rare occasions, when she placed her call a few minutes after twelve, she would say, "I was on the phone with Harriet. She called and I couldn't rush her. I know you must be worried," she would say, "But I'm fine," and knowing we might be skeptical, she would add, "I am. I really am. Fine."

zwerlst

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Thursday December 19, 2013 · 5:45 AM PST

2013/12/19 · 05:45

Approaching 106, there are days when my mother has less vitality. At those times, our conversations are brief as she struggles to take in the oxygen she needs. We talk only about the weather in Florida and New York and what we plan to have for dinner. If she hears we are cooking and eating at home she is happy that we are taking care of ourselves and not "wasting money eating out."

So I was pleased to find her in good form the other day when I made my daily call.

One of the ladies of Forest Trace, she told me, was having trouble with her eyes. "Gussie, poor thing, not only has to walk with a walker but now when she goes down for dinner she can't see where she is going and bumps into everything."

zwerlst

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Monday October 21, 2013 · 10:37 AM PDT

2013/10/21 · 10:37

"I only have a minute. I'm watching C-Spanish." My 105-year-old mother was calling from Forest Trace in Lauderhill, Florida.

I knew she meant C-SPAN. These days she's been glued to the TV. So much is going on in Washington.

"And it's making me depressed."

"What else is new," I said, "My recommendation is that you watch something entertaining. C-SPAN and CNN and Fox News," the other things she watches, "will make you crazy."

"C-Spanish I also find entertaining. Most of what they say there is not to each other but to people watching on TV. Only when there is an important vote is anyone there. But it is making me crazy."

"So why . . ."

"Why? I may be on my last legs but I have my mind and things that I care about. That includes our country. America. You know I came here from a shtetl in Poland?"

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