Remembering Momma (babyhood through Alzheimers)

My Mother  B.C.A. 1912 ~ 2009

From the beginning of one century to the beginning of the New Millennium.  My dear mom. I miss you.
I want to ask you more questions. Life is so full of questions.

 

 The early 20th Century

 the adored first grandchild.

Barbara 

Barbara

Her younger years.

Mom on left. Possibly my favorite picture of her. Enjoying the boys pipes with a girlfriend on an outing. 1930's

The middle years. Life as a wife, mother and artist. Caught between two worlds.

The War Years with First Son Ross and girlfriend Judy

Ross, Mom, Chip

Mom and Dad their 25th anniversary

B.C.Arnold the Artist

The years in Georgia. Her time to be her own person.

Mom's Georgia Mountain Cabin

Georgia years, watching us head out for a ride in the Smokies. Trackrock Cabins

Great Grandmother

Momma and Me

Her 90th Years... The Alzheimer Assault.

Age 90. Still Brilliant, Eager, Inquiring

Surrounded by the next generations and slightly confounded by it all.

The Years When Memory Escaped and Love Took Over

Ravaged by Alzheimer's age 96. Still Beautiful. 

The Gift to live a long and convoluted life. Guided by faith, Loved by family, Cherished in Memory. 

We Look Unto The Heavens. Our Strength and Salvation .
Beautiful and Young
The Breeze Soft On Her Skin.

Alzheimer's Stole You.

Love Kept You.

Remembering You. With Love and Tears.

~Lambie

Vintage Memory Haze

I recently opened another box of my mother's things.  Simple everyday items.  They are vintage now as years have passed and the common things we took for granted have achieved a new level of importance to those who love vintage, collect vintage.

My mother was storing away her sewing supplies.  She saved everything and neatly put things away for future use.  That is her writing up there on those paper labels.  Labels made from recycled scraps of envelopes, the back unused sides of writing papers...she used everything.  It is plain to see she has thread in a plastic bag, buttons in a paper sack, rug & embroidery hooks (she misspelled embroidey...a clue) each bag carefully tagged. 
My Mother was leaving visual reminders to herself in the most practical of ways.  One with Alzheimer's can look at a spool of thread in a plastic bag.  Plainly seeing it's color, shape, and might even take it out and hold it in wonder.  Searching for meaning in this relic of the moments just gone by.  Clenching the fingers aged with knobs of arthritis around its smooth surface and with mind racing in a windstorm of noise be unable to remember it's everyday name. It is hard to imagine being in that spot.  We all forget momentarily why we walked into the kitchen or where we set our keys last...this is so much more.  This is the loss of controll of everyday actions and thoughts. This is scary stuff.  My mother fixed this problem for years without mentioning her vast unknown fears to us her family.  She labeled every plain everyday thing.  Took notes and then copied them over again and again. 

Mom also copied down what was important to her.  Left little pieces of paper with quotes that were important enough to be transcribed and left behind.  The things she wanted to remember to say to us, or hear again herself. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"The sky is full of blue
and full of the mind
of God"
         -child
from book "Dakota"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Christian love is the
warm,
free,
continuing expression
of intelligent good will
to all
without being
judgemental
or manipulative
(Walker Evans
definition)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Vintage collectibles.  So much more meaning when you think of how easily things can be forgotten.  We treasure everyday objects because they are what our daily lives are made of.  What we build our futures with.  The thoughts, readings, buttons, threads that bring us to our eventual end.  If you loose the 'thread' of it you have lost yourself.  Alzheimer's is just as devastating to minds and lives as the land fills that so greedily cover up and rot our possessions. 
If you look at the CT scan of a brain with Alzheimer's you plainly see vast dark areas of nothing amidst the remains of functioning matter.  In this way it is like collecting vintage. You cherish the broken bits of pottery as you hope you find all the missing pieces to the set of Grandmother's silver. What bits you can no longer find or retrieve you will regret, tell their story and remember.   If you are so unlucky as to have lost the memory then you can only hope to find your notes. 

Thanks for leaving the notes Mom.  I am remembering you.  Your brilliant creative mind and I cherish your notes.  They whisper to me the things you didn't remember or have time to say to me. I find you in them and in that I am fortunate. 

from Mom

Mom in her high button shoes.

Love, Lambie

Azheimers

Alzheimer's Death


Alzheimer's                                                                               

lost 
stolen memory
Mama a string of shattered glass
refracting new meanings 
misunderstood
shamed.


A women of words, artist, Latin scholar
Alzheimer's you thief.
Her mind ordered a writer of lists
our historian broken
mistaking earrings for acorns.

                                                                                                             
Alzheimer's 
dark cloak
of dreaded loss.


Words gone now
Mama a tiny speck of light 
in eyes that see and don't see at all.


Alzheimer's you need
her vision too?
Unspeakably cruel to 
steal til blind.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                  
No you won't win.


My Mother's death
my head upon her breast.
Alzheimer's cowering 
now in the 
face of death.
                                                                                                        
I sang a hymn
Holy Holy Holy 
I sang the doxology to you.


Alzheimer's mute and weak
Death now upon the room
a braver warrior than you.

                                                                                                        
Silent Night Holy Night
We watched with you 
Chip and I as 
Death descended and 
Alzheimer's died.


Your eyes, your breath
your startling glance
your gasp
your soft breast.


As Death returned to you 
Your life renewed.

Mama
June 20, 1912~December 31, 2008

                                                                                                                        
Daddy appears a portal
from the room
you reached and turned 
took flight your oldest
son your guide.


Left Chip and I 
to witness                                                 
Alzheimer's Death.


Your spark of life 
Filled that room 
a gale of energy 
you flew


Anne 2/14/12


"Praise God from whom
all blessings flow 
Praise him all creatures here below
Praise Father Son and Holy Ghost "
the Doxology