Mom		Site Map

I left Oregon for California in the summer of 1993. I wanted to live near Mom, but needed more cultural stimulation then Merced had to offer. I set up shop (landed) in Santa Cruz (125 miles away). I started taking my Mom driving in the mid 90's. She was becoming less and less independent as time went by. At the start of 1996 I started managing her finances for her. I put down a deposit at Villa Del Rey, an independent living home for retired seniors

A month later, Ray helped me move her from her house, to Villa Del Rey. I had been growing increasingly concerned about her safety, she was living alone, and was relieved to know that she was in a community with other people.

In early September 1996, we drove to Yosemite. I had heard about a rockfall near Happy Isles. A piece of the wall came loose and 162,000 tons of granite plunged to Yosemite Valley floor. One person died and the trees got coated with dust. Because I'm disabled we got to drive on the shuttle bus road. The trees looked grey from the dust as we approached. It was prettty cloudy and it started to rain just as we went under the trees. The rain turned the dust, on the leaves and branches to mud - it began raining mud. The windshield wipers smeared mud all over the windshield, I couldn't see, so I stopped the car until the rain washed the mud away, Mom didn't say anything.

I was living in Santa Cruz and driving to Merced to see Mom twice, sometimes 3 times a month. It was a major investment of time, but seeing Mom smile, when I arrived, made it worthwhile. We'd often go into the foothills, I took her driving to Colombia, Sonora, Twain Hart, Toulumne city, Groveland, Greeley hill, Big Oak Flat, El Portal, Lake Don Pedro, Hornitos, Snelling, Lake McClure, Greely Hill, Mocasin, Horseshoe Bend, Yosemite valley, Crane flat, Coulterville, Oakhhurst, Vallecitos, Angels Camp, Copperopolis, Stent, Jacksonville etc..

Back in the summer of 1990 Mom and I went out to Santa Fe, New Mexico, on the train. We stayed with my sister. We checked out all the tourist stores on the plaza. We bought icecream at the Haagen Daaz shop and ate lunch at a Mexican resaurant my sister recommended. That night my sister dropped Mom and me off at the Indian school. We were there to see a Native American show. I had taken Indians of North America at the university after I graduated, I wanted to know more about the people the Europeans (my ancestors) had treated so badly. I was especially enamored of the Indian veneration for life, the way they respected the land, the animals and their elders.

I remember it like it was yesterday: we were seated at the top of the amphitheatre, it was dark, down on the stage the people start performing the "Corn Dance". They were moving in circles, slowly, methodically, givng thanks for the gift of life - the corn. I was kind of lulled by the soft droning of their voices, overlaid by the drum beat. When, Mom, turns and starts talking to me. She is speaking clearly, lucidly, a stream of well connected thoughts and ideas. My mouth literally falls open - I hadn't seen this person for 10 years. If it hadn't happened to me, I would not have believed it possible. After the Corn Dance we wandered around to the booths. Mom was becoming less eloquent as time passed. My sister picked us up afterwards in the parking lot. By the time we had gotten back to my sister's house Mom had reverted back to her usual state of confusion and uncertainty.

On the left is a composite photo-collage of my Mom when she was 7, my grandmother when she was 17, my grandmother's brothers and sisters in a blizzard near Huron, South Dakota and a usable picture of the buck-board (wagon), the original image was too badly damaged to use. They weren't taking color photographs at the time these pictures were taken - I had to colorize the photographs using Adobe Photoshop. You can see the result.

One time I drove to Mom to Yosemite for the Valley tour. A big truck towed our open air trailor outfitted with the seats facing forward, around Yosemite Valley floor. A tour guide stood at the front and pointed out areas of special interest: Yosemite Falls, El Capitan, Bridal Veil Falls, etc..

Before the tour began, the guide said that if anyone had any questions to raise their hands and she would answer them. Mom made to raise her hand (Mom was not capable of coherent conversation by then), I touched her shoulder and her hand descended - the tour hadn't started yet. I watched her intently for the entire tour. She enjoyed herself, but I had to keep reminding her (touching her shoulder) not to raise her hand - it was pretty humorous.

In November of 1999 we were going to go driving in the sierra foothills. My truck was dirty so we went to a carwash. While I was in the office she forgot I was there and started to walk away. I called to her retreating back. She stopped, turned around and broke into a big smile at the sight of me.

In April of 2000 I had to move her from independent living, at Villa Del Rey, to assisted care living at North Lake Villa, in Merced. I wanted her to stay where her friends could come see her. To drive to Merced was a major investment of time and money, but I was okay with that. Often, when I went to see her, after driving into the foothills or up to Modesto, Mom wanted to go back with me, to Santa Cruz. I could barely take care of myself, there was no way I could take care of Mom, though I wanted to. It broke my heart to call one of the staff people, to restrain her, so I could leave.

I was tutoring chemistry, unable to get a job that would pay me a living wage. I realized, to get a job with income I could live on, that I could have money for a family, I would need to get an advanced degree in chemistry. But, if I did that (lots of studying), I wouldn't have time to go see Mom, so I tried computer graphics, illustration and animation. My passion was chemistry.

At North Lake Villa, Mom would look at me, start to smile, then her face would go blank as she forgot she forgot who I was, then she'd remember, start to smile again, forget again and so forth. I often had to go see Ray and Alice after one of these episodes.

I would often go to see her and take her driving. She wasn't very capable of conversation, but enjoyed getting out and seeing different cities, the mountains and so forth. One time we stopped in Turlock (about 30 miles from Merced). We had stopped in a restaurant for lunch. She went into the bathroom and was gone a long time. After 15 minutes I went to see what happened to her. I waited by the door for awhile and finally pushed it open. Mom was standing there, a totally confused look on her face. I got the impression she didn't know where she was, why she was there, what was happening or anything. That was the last time I took her away from Merced.

I still drove over to see her. Sometimes I would take her out for lunch at one of the local restaurants. Merced is the "Gateway To Yosemite" and Mom and I were eating at this restaurant on the highway to Yosemite. The waitress brought us our food. Mom just looked at her plate and lacked the motivation to eat though she was was really hungry. I let my food get cold as I coaxed her to keep eating her food. A woman comes over to me. She's from England, a doctor, and was going to see Yosemite with her husband. She could see I was in touble and wanted to see if there was anything she could do to help me. I am so grateful for her coming over. I was starving, but had to focus my attention on Mom. While she looked after Mom I inhaled my food. I was so hungry I didn't think to get her name though I thanked her profusely. I didn't trust Mom to walk across the parking lot and had her wait for me to pull my truck up to the entrance. I never took her out again.

Mom started to progressively lose ground, about 6 months after the picture with her and me, was taken. I used to look forward to seeing her, but started to dread the bimonthly trip to see her, as her decline was evident in the two weeks between visits. Around July, 2003 it had reached the point where she would look at me without a trace of recognition in her eyes. I remembered when I was a boy, thinking in the year 2000, I'd be 44. It never occured to me that my mom would be 82.

Mom has been in a nursing home since February 2004. Her doctor thought she'd be gone by April, but it's been five years and Mom is still hanging on. She is completely unresponsive to outside stimuli. I can touch her, call her name and her eyes don't move, My bother and sister were (and are) shocked by Mom's decline. I am used to her slow disintegration, from the strong, vibrant woman I knew and grew accustomed to, to where she is now. My letters and emails did not prepare them for this.

I am glad that I had the time, resources and lived nearby so I could go and visit Mom frequently (2 -3 times each month for 10 years) after she retired. I would often take Mom driving and buy her gifts. She really enjoyed driving into the Sierra foothills and visiting the gold rush towns. Sometimes we even went to Yosemite to experience its grandeur. There is a song by Il Divo, "Mama" that sums up my feelings about my Mom. Click on the picture to play the video.

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