A Personal Journal
The landscape of the road north
changes as leafy trees are replaced
by conifers and pine.
Flat lands give way to rolling hills
created by glaciers and ice flows
thousands of years ago.
Fishing and hunting resorts,
and river rafting outfitters
line the highway at river crossings.
The road north serves
the many who call the area home,
and the tens of thousands on vacation.
Brent
There is no agony and worry like that of a missing family member. We raise our kids hoping to keep them safe and teaching them to keep themselves from harm. We never expect that as we get older, our roles may change from that of child to parent of our parents. That’s what dementia does to a family, it reverses the roles of child and parent.
“Have you seen my father? The service said they dropped him off one hour ago, but he’s not here.” Her voice is filled with stress, worry and a little panic.
The neighborhood search begins as she calls 911.
The onset of dementia is a slow process, one filled with its own worries, for it takes about six months for a correct diagnosis. The confusion sets in and memory starts to fail. Where would an elderly man on foot go? What precautions might he take in this heat?
While the police arrived and asked questions, two neighbors fanned out in vehicles to scour the neighborhood. At mid day in hot weather, nobody is out. Everyone is inside in their air conditioning. Everyone that is except for one man, sitting at a patio table set with the umbrella up providing shade.
“Hi. Are you visiting?”
“No.”
“Are you Chris’s dad?”
“Yes. She’s not home and I’m waiting for her.”
“This is the neighbor’s house. Chris is around the corner and looking for you. Let me take you there.”
“Oh, good Lord. Okay.”
Walking down the street towards home, Chris is standing in the street talking with the police. I call her phone. “We’re walking down the street.” She waves and I wave back. Her dad just keeps walking along and greets her as if nothing has happened, maybe wondering why she wasn’t home.
After a few inquiries, it appears the service dropped him off at the wrong house. He didn’t know it was the wrong one, and so he was waiting for someone to come home. He raised the umbrella on the patio table for some shade.
It was a good outcome … this time.
Brent
It’s been a while since we’ve gone to a ball game, and it’s been five years since Lin and I have attended a South Bend Silver Hawks game. Prior to our move to Cincinnati, I was the photographer for the Hawks. I was at the ball park often. Very often.
In five years, the Silver Hawks have transformed the ball park, also known as the Cove, named after Stanley Coveleski. The field has a new digital scoreboard with video. All of the old buildings beyond the outfield have been removed and replaced with landscaping that invites fans directly into the field from downtown South Bend.
Just before game time, the stands were still filling up. We’re sitting behind home plate and slightly towards the Hawks dugout. I walked down to the screen and managed to get Mark Haley’s attention. Mark is the head coach for the Hawks and has been for about 7 or 8 years. It was like greeting an old friend you haven’t seen for a while. He’s also an avid fly fisher.
The game got underway and it was like old times. Baseball, beer, hot dogs, peanuts and popcorn. There is something about hanging out at the ballpark that is so relaxing.
Brent
Note: These photos were taken with my LG phone-camera.
D. Brent Miller 