Mom & Me Journals Histories: 1999 - 2001

    After sending off that other e I noticed The Little Girl was in the meatloaf position outside my mother's bedroom where my mother has been pursuing her morning nap for about an hour. The Little Girl's favorite sleeping place is a fleece throw at the bottom of my mother's bed (I think I may have mentioned that to you); her favorite sleeping time is when my mother is on the bed. She's gotten into the habit of expecting me to pet her into sleep on it during the day, so I picked her up, took her in and started petting her. As usual, although she's not, by nature, a purrer, she began purring audibly and musically, which she always does when being petted on the fleece, on the bed. Within less than a minute, I noticed my mother had begun, in somatic sympathy, to really purr; by this I mean, her bronchials relaxed and her breathing became so deep that, on the outtake, her throat tissues vibrated and sounded exactly like a sonorous, lionic purr! I've referred to her "purring" before, but this is the first time I've heard her really purr, versus snoring or humming, which she does occasionally, as well. Jesus! She is half cat! No wonder she's still around. She probably has at least a few more of her nine lives left!

    I woke up this morning realizing that arranging a time when a visit would work for everyone and everything whom and that would be involved has already become too fucking complicated. In the end it wasn't even my ability (or lack of such) to negotiate some time that got to me this time. I've been lobbying for this for awhile (not your visit, specifically, but some help and some relief), and it wasn't until I was quite sure that everything (I mean everything, not just needing relief) was completely beyond my control and ability and the psychic extension of that despair pricked someone else that I was granted the promise of this much relief. I realized that if I hadn't given up I wouldn't even have gotten the time in February. So you know what, LTF, sorry about the lack of heat, but, the last two weeks in February is it (unless further unforeseen circumstances intervene). I've got too many other foreseen circumstances coming up between now and then to even care about getting this one any righter than it already is. If you want to visit at that time, fine, I'd like that. If not, fine, the lack of a visit is not going to change yours and my friendship. I just need enough advance notice so that the final details of MFS's life can be arranged to accommodate me (or in the case of no visit, so she won't be left hanging), so let me know one way or another. Whatever.

    I know it is more advance planning than you're used to. It's not really my choice, either. Let's see, when was the last time I advance planned anything in my life when I was responsible for only my own care? Never, I think. Being an involved caretaker requires much advance planning, though. I would not trust my mother to a stranger. No one else in my family would trust my mother to a stranger. I have to work around the lives of those in my family who might be able to pinch hit for me. It's very weird. Believe me, there are lots of reasons why this gig does not compliment my overall psychological make-up, which is fairly vulnerable to despair under the best of circumstances. But, whatever. Maybe, one of these days my psychological make-up will give up and start complimenting this gig.
    Yes, it can be cold then in Prescott. The nights always are. Unless there is a storm though, it's quite sunny. It can also be warm, relatively speaking, during the day; in the 60's here if it's in the 80's in Mesa, which is not unusual for that time of year. I know what you mentioned about you and the heat. It has been in the back of my (conscious) mind. Let me think on this awhile. The problem is twofold: First, although I'm not sure of this, I don't think I'm going to be able to get relief from anyone but MFS and she won't be available March through August. I'll see what I can come up with; second, for it to be as hot as you'd like, that would be when my mother and I are already up here. If you visited while I'm fully engrossed in being my mother's caretaker I can guarantee I would not enjoy your visit. You would become another guest I would have to negotiate while seeing to my mother's pills, pads, sleeping, creative memories (both short and long term), hazy grasp on moment-to-moment reality and need for company. You would be saying, as MCF said to me on Tuesday when she left, "You're a lot different around your mother. I prefer seeing you when you're not around her."
    There's a possibility that I might be able to transfer her back down to Mesa and maybe get MPS to take her in for a couple of days, I'm not sure. Let me look into this. It hadn't occurred to me, despite what I wrote in the last e, that I might have to figure out alternate arrangements nor how difficult that might be. I figured, if a war interfered well everything would be different and maybe I could come up with something. But chances are it would be even more difficult with a war than without one. Again, let me think on this, for awhile. I'm pretty inventive. I have thought about the possibility of sending Mom to MFS for a visit. Although MFS has repeatedly assured me that their family is available to take over Mom's care, I haven't tested the waters about short visits and I'm unclear about how careful the airlines would be with my mother coming and going. She never knows where she, or anyone else is (today she was in Mesa, and MPBIL was on a carrier off the coast of New York). Trips to Jacksonville always involve stopovers and plane changes. Maybe, though, we could arrange something where I accompany her out to Jacksonville and MFS accompanies her back. I don't know.

    I have nothing to say today about what is and isn't in the news. We do not have the news on. Mom is back to her regular sleep schedule. I am relieved. This just seems very weird and I need some time to ponder it.
    This is a business letter. I just spoke with MFS. The best time for her to relieve me in 2002 so I can visit with you unencumbered is "between February 14th and March 1st." There is another window for her in mid-January, but that is bad for my mother and I. This is assuming, of course, that you still want to visit Prescott and me. Her time within those two weeks at this point (see starred section) is flexible as far as both dates and duration are concerned. She needed to make sure that her husband would be at their home to take care of the kids. So it looks like that is my optimum time for visiting. The reason she called me about this today (other than the fact that she is good at organization) is that she's beginning to scout for air fares and found a deal on Southwest where the tickets must be purchased before September 17th. I need to tell you we are not concerned about air fares. You need not even decide by September 17th whether you are planning on visiting next year. Despite her intransigence to my mother's and my offer, we will be paying her airfare and any other travel expenses and we aren't worried about possible costs of air fare. My feeling is that it's not necessary for you to firm up any dates or even make a decision about whether you really want to visit at this point. But I thought you might want to know that I know between what dates I am certain I can get relief, so you can plan accordingly if you wish to plan.
    If you decide to visit I'll want a day to prepare the house for a non-smoking guest as much as is possible, warm it up (it takes about a day to get it to living warmth in the winter even though the winters are very mild here), make sure we have enough firewood, etc. You are free to "stay" here or at a motel/hotel. Knowing your need for privacy, I would be surprised if you decided to stay in this house [of course, you are more than welcome to stay here, I just want you to know that I will not be offended if you opt to have a smoke-residue-free/privacy insuring haven handy]. If you are thinking in terms of a hotel/motel room you will have absolutely no trouble procuring one in Prescott during the last two weeks of February, regardless of when you decide to make reservations. This is not a tourist mecca during the winter months. I'll also want to make sure I am with MFS for at least one day before your visit to check her out on everything she needs to know before taking on Mom and a day after your visit to debrief her and rebrief myself.
    Of course, all of this could be for naught mainly because of the developments of the last few days since MFS's family is an active Navy family.

    The most interesting snippet of language I've heard so far regarding the 9/11 affair belongs to my mother. About an hour ago she switched from CNN to a cable channel showing Murder She Wrote. "I've had enough of this," she said as she switched the channel (with some help; she becomes more and more creative on the remotes by the day). Then:

    I was on the living room floor brushing The Big Girl. Mom moved from the sofa to the dinette, I think as a mimed version of her spoken statement. After she'd focused on the television long enough to satisfy herself that it wasn't news she said, "You know, there's something about this whole thing that's been bothering me terribly."
    I went into the dinette to give her my full attention. "About what, Mom?"
    "This 'act of terrorism'." She rolled her hands around one another indicating that she was not using the term she considered appropriate. "I have this terrible feeling that someone cooked this whole thing up to some other purpose. I'm not talking about someone overseas ["overseas" to my mother is anyplace she's not; on Guam, the U.S. was "overseas"]. I'm talking about here." She stabbed at the table with her right index finger. "It just seems to me that this went off too well. And no one seems confused, just angry. Like it was planned from within," she taps the table with her finger again, "this country. Not by foreigners," she qualifies, "by us. Someone's sitting back," she settles into her chair, belly forward, her hands clasped across her chest, delighted Cheshire smile planted on her face, "saying, 'Uh huh. This is going just as I'd planned.' And it's not that Osama man."
    I was blown away. Not that this hadn't crossed my mind, just as it has been crossing your mind that our government is going to latch onto this as just the ticket they need (which is allowing splendid access, isn't it). I had gotten the impression, though, that she was totally involved in the "galvanize the nation" similarity to WWII. She was. She's also recognizing, having gone through the WWII galvanization (which was premised upon an attack that, it has been more than speculated, could have been prevented, although I'm not sure she's aware of that), that something seems, well, her phrase is "wrong about this". She doesn't think there's something wrong just with the reaction. She thinks there's something wrong with the actual event or, at least, what we're presuming and being told about the actual event.
    Her last pronouncement was, "We'd better not treat the Arab Americans as badly as we treated the Japanese Americans, but it looks like someone's just been itching to do that. Now, I'm afraid, they may think they have their chance. I just think this whole thing is something completely different than we're being led to believe."

    I thought you'd find her final assessment (at this point, anyway) interesting.
    In curious point to her fears, at the beauty salon today one woman worried about the fact that her son called her last night to tell her, "If war is declared, I'm volunteering." Another much older woman started spouting scripture from Revelations. All I can say is, it's obvious something is definitely working, awfully (and I mean that word) well and I'm wondering about it all, too.

My mother is up early; almost an hour. The TV has been on since then. She's scoured both papers. It's almost as though she's been revived by a jog into her past. What this country has become since yesterday reverberates within her experience.

    My mother was even tuning in on the news. Shortly after I e'd you last, she glued herself to the TV. I had suspected, out back, hearing it all 2nd person from what MCF was gleaning off the TV, she may not have understood what had happened. Sometime around 1600 she apparently noticed the call for blood and said she wanted to donate so we went to Yavapai Regional Medical Center and were directed to an "off campus" clinic. When we returned my mother spent some time on the phone calling all her daughters to see if their husbands had been "called in". I'm thinking, wow, I wonder if she's connecting this with her experience of blood drives in WWII.