Jane Lewis

What a strange and unsettling morning yesterday!  I awoke early and went outside onto our deck, and a south wind was blowing so hard that it was turning the leaves on the trees upside down.  The refracted sunrise, which we cannot directly see from Clear Creek Valley, was pink and turquoise, high clouds rushing past.  I thought about Jane Lewis while I was out there doing my Tai Chi, and when I drove up to Town for my long run of the week I thought and prayed about her, too.  We knew she was approaching the end, and we did not like thinking about the possibility of her making that final passage out at the Eckerd Center, as fine a place as it is, rather than surrounded by all of us.

It was overcast and misting rain in Town, and the wind was blowing hard, like one of those days at Atlantic Beach.  At 9:00 I realized there would not be any other runners, so I continued on by myself, completing seven solitary miles.  It had been a long week and a difficult one, and the final mile felt like the last mile of a marathon when there is no gas left in the tank. 

Everybody in Town except for the occasional runner passing me or the many dog-walkers out on the road was wearing a face mask, complying with the Governor's executive order that went into effect on Friday night.  On the way back home, I could see what looked like fog out in the valley below, but shimmering with a milky light.  I learned that this was the so-called Saharan Dust Storm, which had made a 5,000-mile journey across the Atlantic, the Caribbean, the Gulf of Mexico, and now was overtaking several of the southern states, blown on that strong south wind I had felt all morning.  My breathing felt tight, and Martha reported the same when she arrived home from her run; her asthma makes her more sensitive to pollen and ozone than I am.

We had just started to eat lunch at about noon when Martha's mobile rang; it was Kayla, one of Jane's caregivers (her favorite one, she said) reporting that she thought there had been a big change in her condition.  Martha called Angie, who lives closer to Town, and a Hospice nurse, and then left as quickly as she could.  I called in ten minutes and Martha said, "She's on her death bed."  So I left right away too, finding the two sisters and their brother Scott in Jane's room.  It was clear that she was failing rapidly.  She had already told her children that she loved them, and she smiled at me when I came into the room.  Bill, the other brother, had been called and was on his way, and so we pulled the curtains, prayed, and read scripture - Psalms 23 and 121.  Martha quietly played Jane's favorite hymn on her mobile phone.

Fairest Lord Jesus, ruler of all nature,
O thou of God and man the Son;
Thee will I cherish, Thee will I honor,
Thou, my soul's glory, joy, and crown.

Bill arrived then, and she looked at him and smiled.  It was as if she had been waiting for all of her children to arrive as she closed her eyes and smiled, and in a few minutes she was gone.  There could not have been a more peaceful passage from this world into the next than the passage this kind, gentle woman made.  As Angie's children began to arrive, we gathered downstairs and talked about how glad we were that she had died here in this way, in her own bedroom, rather than in a hospital, a nursing home, or the back of an ambulance.  What a blessing to leave this world surrounded by the things she loved and the people she loved.

It was a sad day, as losing a loved one always is.  But at the same time, as I reminded everyone in prayer, we found consolation and joy in knowing that she had gone to heaven peacefully, as she said she wanted to go. 

So Jane Lewis rests in peace this day.

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.

My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.

He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber.

Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord is thy keeper: the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand.

The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night.

The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul.

The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore.

A Difficult Week

It has been a difficult week for us.  Jane Lewis continues to weaken, and although we were able to keep her in her own home for 30 days, it now appears that she needs a higher level of care than we can provide there, even with the help of round-the-clock caregivers.  She is now having difficulty getting out of bed and going to the bathroom just a few feet away, and although Hospice can provide a wheelchair, the bathroom is not handicap accessible.  We suggested moving her to the Eckerd Living Center, a skilled nursing facility which is part of Highlands-Cashiers Hospital and less than three miles away  She readily agreed, and fortunately they have an opening; we will be transporting her there on Monday.

As she has thought and prayed about it, Jane says she is not at all afraid of what lies ahead.  Her faith is strong and she is still not in any pain.  The Eckerd Center is a wonderful place.  It has a five-star rating and is familiar to all of us from visiting friends there over the years, and she even knows some of the nurses and residents there now.  After a brief stay in the Hospital while she is tested for Covid-19, she will be able to have visitors outdoors in the garden, which she is looking forward to seeing.  Martha has been working hard making all of the necessary arrangements this week, and she and her sister are in the process of making copies of photos and gathering special items for her to take with her.

It has been difficult to find time to run during a time like this, but it is really what keeps us both going, as I have often insisted in this blog.  These days Martha is fielding phone calls and text messages constantly and faithfully making daily trips to Town to see her Mom, spending most of the afternoons there.  But this only makes us want to run harder when we do have the opportunity.  When I worked for the Town, I would go for a six-mile run when I got off at 4:30 p.m., and often go back to a long meeting after dinner.  Non-runners did not realize that, rather than wearing me out, that run would energize me and keep me going late into the evening. 

It is the same today.  We exercise every day in one way or another.  It is as natural as eating, or breathing.  Or praying.

Gardens and Blooms and Midsummer Nights

It has been nearly two weeks since my last post to this blog.  Sadly, my gentle mother-in-law Jane Lewis continues to decline each day, rarely getting out of bed now and eating very little.  Only two weeks ago she was eating a whole banana, but now it is just a bite or two.  We are spending as much time as we can with her - Martha has not missed a day - but she sleeps much of the time.  So we have been trying to stay busy in the mornings, keeping up with our running and with completing projects around the house and the yard.

We are in that summer cycle of weather now when we can expect afternoon thunderstorms almost every day.  I remember that when I was working full-time, a handful of us would meet at the Town Hall when I got off work at 4:30 p.m., and one summer it rained every day at exactly that time.  My two pairs of shoes, which I alternate every run, never had much of a chance to dry.  Now we can run in the mornings when the rain is less likely. 

Nearly every week, I run up Big Bearpen Mountain on Monday, as I did this morning, that relentless upward ascent through slanting curtains of sunlight in the morning mist, never stopping until I have reached the 4200-foot summit, where I unfailingly take what our friend Jim Askew (now deceased) once called his "Rocky Moment," except overlooking an expanse of June-green mountains off the south side of the summit instead of Philadelphia.

On Wednesdays or Thursdays, I have begun to do some speed work, consisting last week of 400-meter intervals, classic training for a 5-K race despite no races of any kind on the horizon.  Some area races may be taking place, including the Twilight 5-K in Highlands, depending on whether or not Covid-19 "spikes" are taking place.  But we simply cannot see any way we would want to run a road race right now with hundreds of other runners and spectators.  Still, races or no races, hard workouts are good for burning off both fat and stress, and like that long pull up Bearpen this morning the benefits of self-discipline extend beyond simply training for races.

Saturdays, I have been enjoying long, easy runs - eight miles this week - partly in the company of Karen and Fred a couple of arms-lengths away, but mostly alone.  Coincidentally, I learned that Karen's 92-year-old mother died last Tuesday.  We are careful to spread out across the road and continue to steer a wide berth around the many dog-walkers who seem to have arrived in full force this month.  The long, solitary runs are good for praying and giving thanks and trying to connect with the beauty of Highlands in June, this lovely place now blooming with mountain laurel and flame azalea and flowers of every kind.  Martha liberated a couple of stalks of foxgloves from along the road and we brought it to her Mom in the afternoon, joining the many other bouquets in her room courtesy of thoughtful friends.

The daily thunderstorms have been good for the gardens.  What a change we have seen in just a little over a month.

The tomato plants in the garden bed with the best exposure to sun have already developed, from a few scattered blossoms into a good many green tomatoes, some of them the size of plums.

I celebrated another holiday on June 16, a day which is known in literary circles around the world as Bloomsday, because it remembers the wanderings of Leopold Bloom around Dublin on that single day in 1904.  Readers of this blog will remember that I had the opportunity to walk in those same footsteps last August.  I wrote in this blog at the time:

"Bloom was the famous anti-hero, a Ulysses from his own time, who famously sailed the streets of Dublin in Ulysses, perhaps the most important novel of the 20th century.  The novel took place in a single day - June 16, 1904 - a date still celebrated in libraries and literary circles in various cities around the world by readings from the book, especially that famous single-sentence soliloquy by Molly Bloom, the remarkable climactic conclusion to the book:

. . .and Gibraltar as a girl where I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes."

 

I found one or two very good readers of the book on the internet on that day, which is a huge holiday in Dublin featuring actors dressed as characters in the book and quoting long passages from memory.

 

 

Fathers Day is always a little poignant since Martha and I have both lost our fathers, mine many years ago and hers a little less than four.  I received a beautiful hand-made card from my daughter Katy, and told her that the only other person I know who makes hand-made cards is Martha's aunt Anne Sellers.  In these days of coronavirus cautions, we could think of no better way to celebrate than to stay home.  Martha prepared one of my favorite recipes, salmon with peaches and mint, and we dined on our deck, where the thunderstorm rumbling on the horizon mercifully held off.  I had been saving the most recent of the Globe theater Shakespeare performances, which have been streaming on-line, and watched it on Saturday night, the appropriately-timed A Midsummer Night's Dream, on that first day of summer and longest day of the year.

How Did That Happen?

During stressful times, it goes without saying that our faith sustains us.  But hard runs and hard work, as noted in previous posts, also help relieve the stress.  Saturday I completed eight miles and Martha completed six miles.  We have been running in the mornings when we can, sometimes on alternate days, and then in the afternoons we have been spending time with Martha's Mom, who is now on oxygen most of the time and has caregivers assisting her.  Hospice has been wonderful; it takes a very special kind of person to give that kind of care.  Martha's sister Angie has been coming over after we leave and spending time with her in the evenings.

Meanwhile, the milestones of life come and go.  June 5 was a day to remember for us; our daughter Katy was born 34 years ago, and although we could not be with her in person we shared some wonderful memories.  "It's a weird one!" she said.  When I stopped by Highlands Pharmacy on Saturday to get some prescriptions for Martha's Mom, owner and pharmacist Sherry asked about her; she has a daughter the same age as Katy.  "She turned 34 yesterday," I said.  "How did that happen!?"  It is hard to remember that I once held her in my arms so easily.  Here she was, gazing in wonderment at her first Christmas Parade in Highlands when she was six months old.

Another birthday has slipped by, too.  Martha's aunt, Anne Sellers, turned 90 years old on Sunday.  90!  How did that happen? she must be asking herself.  She will not be coming to Highlands for the summer this year as she normally does in June, and we will miss her.  I saw her friends and neighbors Donna and Rich on Saturday while I was out running, and I told them that we always considered that summer did not arrive in Highlands until Anne arrived.  For the last five or six years we have celebrated her birthday with dinner out on our deck, sometimes with her friends from Savannah who drive her to Highlands.

So Happy Birthday Anne, and Happy Birthday Katy, if you are reading this post!  We think of you both all the time and hope to see you soon.

Our Stressful Times

The rain barrel drainage project, described in such excruciating detail in the previous post, has finally been completed.  I await with interest the arrival of the next deluge to see whether it actually works! 

 
The garden is thriving, and there have been no signs thus far of marauding deer nibbling at the Blue Lake bush beans; still, I will erect a short fence around the beds tomorrow, hoping (do they follow this blog?) that they do not decide to pay a visit before then.

The project was a good stress-reliever, and stress relief is in much demand right now.  Martha's Mom is not doing very well at all, and she and her sister and brothers have all been pitching in to help.  It is not an easy time that they are going through as they watch her decline so quickly.  She did not want to undergo chemotherapy, and now she has stopped her radiation treatments, too.  But, miraculously, she says that her pain level, initially a three or four on a scale of ten, is now zero.  That is a blessing, and it is also a blessing to have so many loving children surrounding her.

Meanwhile, the coronavirus pandemic is continuing to spread in North Carolina, and as expected it has reached Highlands now.  One of Old Edwards Inn's restaurants was identified as a "cluster," and two other businesses have closed down while employees are being tested.  It is alarming to see so many visitors and local people refusing to wear facial masks.  To us, it is a matter of respect and caring for others.  I am 100% positive that I am not an asymptomatic carrier - I have been taking every precaution, and this morning I completed a three mile run - but still I wouldn't want my friends and neighbors to think that I am not cooperating with a very sensible recommendation of public health professionals.

I try not to stray into politics in this blog, but how can it be avoided in times like these?  On top of the pandemic and the economic collapse it has caused, with 40 million people out of work through no fault of their own, now every city in the nation is experiencing protests not witnessed since the 1960s against police brutality and injustice against black men.  There have been large demonstrations in cities that we know well - Raleigh, Asheville, and Greenville.  Thus far they have been peaceful, although there was some destruction and looting in Raleigh and Asheville.  We even had a small demonstration here in Highlands this week involving about 75 people, which we did not learn about until after it had occurred.  Like the coronavirus, outrage against injustice knows no boundaries.

Yesterday we learned that a peaceful protest in front of the White House was disrupted with tear gas so our President could walk across the street to a church and pose for a photo-op with a Bible held in his hand as a prop.  If only he would open that Bible, and read it, and offer some words of comfort for a nation that is torn apart!

I don't think I have ever seen a time in our history like this, even the anti-war demonstrations in the Vietnam era and the Civil Rights marches in the 1960s.  In such stressful times, it is paramount that we continue to respect each other, have faith in God and in each other, and have faith in our institutions that are under attack every day.  As Abraham Lincoln so famously said in times no less tumultuous than these:

"We are not enemies, but friends.  We must not be enemies. 

Though passion may have strained,

it must not break our bonds of affection.

The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched,

As surely as they will be, by the better angels of our nature."