Alice Orr's Blog, page 3

Mittens

Mittens. “We’re here to make the world a better place,” my grandma, Alice Jane Rowland Boudiette, would say.

She made this statement of her personal truth so many times that it became my own truth and would influence my choices throughout all of my life to come. It affected me even more deeply because Grandma didn’t only say those words, she lived them. The Mittens were just one proof of that.

All year long, Grandma collected old knitwear. She was especially partial to sweaters because they had so much yarn in them, and gathering yarn was the purpose of her collecting.

She didn’t care what color the sweaters might be or in what state of disrepair. As long as they could be taken apart they were good enough to go into the bag next to Grandma’s chair and wait for her to unravel them. I was thrilled when she asked me to be part of that.

“Would you like to help, Lovey?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Hold your arms out and bend them up at the elbows,” she said with the small, soft smile she always wore. “Lean on your knees and you won’t get tired.”

I sat on the floor at her feet and did as she instructed. She unraveled the yarn back and forth along the knitted rows of the sweater in her lap, and the garment grew steadily shorter as she wrapped the unraveling yarn round and round my wrists.

“They call this a skein,” she said as the oval grew fatter.

When Grandma came to a break in the yarn, she tied it to the beginning of another piece from a different garment. One color linked to the next color in a rainbow of variations around the skein.

Cross-legged on the floor, a child of five or six holding a hank of yarn, I might have been bored if it weren’t for the stories Grandma told.

“Once upon a time,” she would always begin.

I loved her stories. I wish I could remember them now, though I suspect that what I truly loved was the sound of her voice flowing over me, spooling me into the rainbow skein of being with her, bright as the Mittens were sure to be.

We sat like that mostly in the afternoons when she was between having meals to cook. She rocked slowly back and forth in her heavy oak rocker, the wood grain dark and smooth from many years and much use.

At her right side stood an oval table, also oak, with three curved claw feet as heavy as her chair and a lamp on top with a fringe along the edge of the shade.

The windows in the wall behind her were faced in the wrong direction to invite much light so she inclined her head toward the lamp to see more clearly through her rimless glasses.

The space where we sat was between the parlor and the kitchen and narrower than either of those. Grandma called it her sitting room, but it was really only a walk-through. She made it her place all the same.

I never saw anyone sit there but her and, of course, me. I’ve tried to remember the pattern of the rug I sat on but I can’t, though the rest of the space is as clear to me still as if I sat there now and this were Mittens day.

The rug may be less memorable because I didn’t focus on it much. I tilted my head backward instead, just far enough to keep my gaze on Grandma.

I have a number of photographs of her. She looks quite old in all of them, but I now realize she was only in her early sixties in many of those views.

Maybe it was that she wore her hair in a long braid wrapped around her head and this made her appear older than her years, as if she were from a distant time.

More likely it was her history that did the aging – thirteen pregnancies with eight children that survived, plus living with my very difficult grandfather. The stories the family told of Grandma were always about strength and resilience like the story of one of those thirteen births.

“She had six loaves of bread in the oven when she went into labor,” my mother would say in a tone that discouraged contradiction though the number of loaves varied with each telling.

“She delivered the baby then took the bread out of the oven when it was done.”

I’ve given birth myself, and I have trouble believing that story. I think of it as a parable of how my grandmother lived her life. Or, perhaps, these events may have happened exactly as they were passed on in family legend, like I am passing on the Mittens legend here.

Factual or not, the essence was accurate. Grandma was courageous. Grandma endured.

Another story of courage and endurance was the one about how she came to America. When she was only thirteen years old, she emigrated with a group sponsored by Barnardo’s Homes.

Barnardo’s was a British childrens’ charity that transported young people to Australia or Canada from the late nineteenth century to the 1960s, a practice which is now regarded as deeply misguided.

In October 1892, Grandma and her party embarked from Liverpool, England, sailed to Quebec, then travelled to what was called a Distributing Home in Peterboro, Ontario. She was placed with a family from Watertown, New York, and their several children were given into her care.

“Her parents had too many kids to support so they sent her away,” was how my mother explained my grandmother’s departure from her Windsor, England home.

Such arrangements as the one that brought my grandmother to the United States, where she worked off her passage and living expenses for little or no salary, were a form of indentured service, though my mother blanched at the use of such a term.

Grandma might have blanched at it too, unless it were made clear that she did honest work and nothing undignified. She was intent upon the importance of maintaining dignity whatever the circumstances. She reminded me of this often.

“You are as good as anybody and a lot better than most,” she’d say. “Hold your head up high, and do not ever let anybody make you do otherwise.”

None of which diminishes the stark reality of a teenager leaving all that has been familiar to cross an ocean, live among strangers and never return home again as long as she lived. Grandma held her head high all the same.

I remember her that way, standing tall and straight no matter how long she’d been working that day. She was the first thing I ever believed in – the strong, steady presence of Grandma, making everything better simply because she was there.

I could never get enough of sitting at her feet on those blessed afternoons, gazing up at her in a circle of light tinted gold by an ancient linen lampshade.

Skeining the yarn was followed by the knitting. She knitted almost every day I was with her, and in the evenings after I’d left for my parents’ house. She knitted caps and scarves she called mufflers, but I remember the Mittens best.

They were double-thick, and the cuffs reached past my wrists for several inches under my coat sleeves.

I’ve never had such Mittens since, stitched so tight and strong that they were a bulwark against the weather however harsh it might be, just as Grandma was, and remains, a bulwark for me in life.

“Those pairs aren’t for you,” she said to me one day, as I eyed the growing mound in her basket of finished work. “I have yours set aside.”

“Whose are they then,” I asked.

“You will see,” she said with a twinkle in her smile. And, eventually, I did see.

Grandma’s neighborhood on the north side of Watertown had deteriorated considerably since my mother and her brothers and sisters lived there. One by one the houses around Grandma’s were deserted.

The working class families who had owned and occupied those homes for decades moved out. Poorer, renting families moved in. Many of the children of those families were thin, dirty-faced and, as I remember, rowdier than I was allowed to be.

I also remember what happened on the first snowfall day of winter.

I was always excited when the snow arrived, even though snow was commonplace where we lived, so far north in New York State that we were almost to Canada. I was thrilled anyway, gazing through the frosty window at the flakes floating down.

I prayed for those flakes to stick to the ground and clump together into piles and banks where I could jump and play. I was hopping up and down with eagerness to get outside and do that, but Grandma had other priorities.

“Come on, Lovey,” she said. “We have something important to do.”

She helped me put on my snowsuit jacket and pulled the hood up over my head. Then we went through the vestibule and out the door onto the wide front porch.

This was surprising in itself. Nobody in the family ever used the front door. We always came through the back, directly into the warmth and good smells of Grandma’s kitchen, and we exited the same way. Only strangers and salesmen used the front door.

Grandma stopped at the top of the porch steps. She had a heavy sweater over her shoulders, and snow drifted into her coiled gray hair. She carrying the basket of hats and mufflers she’d been knitting all year long. And, of course, the Mittens too.

I stood behind her and watched as boys and girls gathered at the foot of the porch steps. They were dressed in jackets much flimsier than the one I was wearing, and they hung back shyly until Grandma beckoned them up the steps.

“I have something for you,” she said.

She reached into her basket and gave them each in turn a hat and a scarf. Last of all, every child received a pair of the same special Mittens I loved, all thick and warm and knitted in a rainbow of colors from the yarn I had patiently skeined around my wrists.

“There you go, Lovey,” she said as she looped a scarf around the neck of a little girl about my age.

My heart stung to hear my Grandma call someone else by the name I thought to be exclusively my own. She shone her gentle smile on one child after another that morning, and I felt a stab of jealousy every time, as if she might use up her store of smiles and have none left for me.

I didn’t want to share any part of her with anyone else, particularly not with other children. I felt another jab, of shame this time, later in the day when she explained to me what had really been going on out there on the front porch and why.

“We must do whatever we can whenever we can for those who have life less easy than we do,” she said.

She patted me on the head so I would know she didn’t mean this as a scolding, only as a reminder that we were here to make the world a better place, exactly as she always said.

Still, I was just a child, and each year I couldn’t help but experience a flash of envy as I watched her choose the perfect pair of Mittens from her basket to suit each pair of small hands, while the snow drifted down and another fierce North Country winter began.

But my envy was only a flash which soon faded and was gone.

What has endured ever since is enormous pride that she was my Grandma, the memory of standing close at her side in the glow of the good person she taught me I could also be, and the caress of her love as warm and beautiful as her Mittens.

Alice Orr

Alice Orr. Teacher. Storyteller. Former Editor and Literary Agent. Author of 15 novels, 2 novellas, a memoir, and No More Rejections: 50 Secrets to Writing a Manuscript that Sells. Alice blogs for writers and readers at http://www.aliceorrbooks.com.

Alice’s Memoir is titled Lifted to the Light: A Story of Struggle and Kindness. At the beating heart of this moving story a woman fights her own disease disaster. All her life she has taken care of herself. Now she faces an adversary too formidable to battle alone. Available HERE.

Praise for Lifted to the Light: A Story of Struggle and Kindness: “I was lifted. I highly recommend this book as a can’t-put-down roadmap for anyone.” “Very, very well written. Alice Orr is an amazing author.” “Honest, funny, and consoling.” “I have read other books by Ms. Orr and am glad I haven’t missed this one.” “Couldn’t put it down.”

Alice’s Suspense Novel Series – the Riverton Road Romantic Suspense Series. Five intense stories of love and death and intrigue. Available HERE.

Praise for the Riverton Road Romantic Suspense Series. “Romance and suspense at its best.” “I highly recommend this page-turner series.” “Twists and turns, strong characters, suspense and passionate love.” “The writing is exquisite.”

All of Alice’s Books are available HERE .

Ask Alice Your Crucial Questions. What are you most eager to know? About Alice and Jonathan’s experience? About telling your own stories? Ask your questions in the Comments section following this post.

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http://twitter.com/AliceOrrBooks/
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Giving Thankfuls – Our Dementia Story

Giving Thankfuls – Our Dementia Story. Our Giving Thankfuls tradition was born when the grandchildren were with us every weekend at our yellow house on Vashon Island in Washington State. We have been back on the east coast for well over a decade now, but those memories are still fresh and sweet for Jonathan and me.

We Always Ate Together When the Grands were Visiting. Our rustic dining table was dinged and battered from years of active kid use. The chairs had been rocked back and forth with such vigor so many times that Grandpa Jon finally had to implant bolts to keep them safely intact.

Our Thankfuls Ritual Began with Clasped Hands Before Eating. At our well-used table we reached for one another and took hold. Then, each of us in turn would say what we were thankful for that day. Something that made us feel grateful to be alive or was just fun to do.

The Children Started with Thanks for Being with Us. Jonathan and I started with thanks for being with them and for the joy and chair-rocking energy they added to our lives. We would end with a rousing “Amen.” Our grandson once told me that was like hitting “Send” on a keyboard to broadcast his message.

In this Happy Way Giving Thankfuls Became our Mealtime Thing. The children are not children now. They are well-ensconced in productive adult lives and no longer rock their chairs at dinnertime. Jonathan and I are a twosome most of the time but we have not stopped holding hands and Giving Thankfuls.

We have Lots of Reasons for Giving Thanks. Up front among them are memories like those I share here of our family. And those about blazing forward and loving each other through fifty-two-plus years together. Better. Worse. Richer. Poorer. Sickness. Health. Giving Thankfuls – Our Dementia Story.

We are A Stormy Pair. None who know us well will doubt that. We do not go gentle into much of anything. Sometimes to our credit. Sometimes not. Nonetheless I Give Thankfuls for having grown to be who I am with Jonathan at my side however imperfect we may be.

I Cannot Talk of Thankfulness without Mentioning Grandma. Alice Jane Rowland Boudiette. Everything good in me began with her. She is the reason I put words on pages like I have done here. She told me her stories aloud. I write mine down. The storyteller abides.

Which has Graced Me with the Amazing Company of Other Storytellers. I Give Thankfuls to that company for its generosity and wonderful wit and endless ingenuity. I find role models and helpmates there. Friends too. I cannot imagine another community I would rather inhabit.

Except Our Church Community. The hundred-fifty-year-old parish five blocks from where we live. Jonathan and I will feast there with our faith family on Thanksgiving Eve. Many nationalities. Many languages. All one. As our maker made us to be. We give Thankfuls for that.

Dear Friends. What are Your Thankfuls? Please share them with us in the Comments section following this post. And have a totally joyful Thanksgiving.  P.S. The guy in the above photo is Jonathan. I have no idea why he is peeking into that turkey’s you-know-what. Giving Thankfuls – Our Dementia Story.

LESSON LEARNED – Be Thankful Every Time You Taste the Feast of Life.

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You possess storytelling magic. Keep on writing whatever may occur.  Alice Orr.  http://www.aliceorrbooks.com

Alice Orr. Teacher. Storyteller. Former Editor and Literary Agent. Author of 15 novels, 2 novellas, a memoir, and No More Rejections: 50 Secrets to Writing a Manuscript that Sells. Alice blogs for writers and readers at http://www.aliceorrbooks.com.

Alice’s Memoir is titled Lifted to the Light: A Story of Struggle and Kindness. At the beating heart of this moving story a woman fights her own disease disaster. All her life she has taken care of herself. Now she faces an adversary too formidable to battle alone. Available HERE.

Praise for Lifted to the Light: A Story of Struggle and Kindness: “I was lifted. I highly recommend this book as a can’t-put-down roadmap for anyone.” “Very, very well written. Alice Orr is an amazing author.” “Honest, funny, and consoling.” “I have read other books by Ms. Orr and am glad I haven’t missed this one.” “Couldn’t put it down.”

Alice’s Suspense Novel Series – the Riverton Road Romantic Suspense Series. Five intense stories of love and death and intrigue. Available HERE.

Praise for the Riverton Road Romantic Suspense Series. “Romance and suspense at its best.” “I highly recommend this page-turner series.” “Twists and turns, strong characters, suspense and passionate love.” “The writing is exquisite.”

All of Alice’s Books are available HERE .

Ask Alice Your Crucial Questions. What are you most eager to know? About Alice and Jonathan’s experience? About telling your own stories? Ask your questions in the Comments section following this post.

http://facebook.com/aliceorrwriter/
http://twitter.com/AliceOrrBooks/
http://goodreads.com/aliceorr/
http://pinterest.com/aliceorrwriter/

 

 

 

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There Will Be Miracles – Our Dementia Story

There Will Be Miracles – Our Dementia Story. We cherish precious moments. Specific flashes of time out of time. These moments feel eternal in the way they abide within us. We know we will remember them forever. When we require their return to our present life we are able to illuminate them with the floodlight of our imaginations. These are our personal miracles.

The Usual Definition of a Miracle. Expansive adjectives most often describe the miraculous. Extraordinary. Amazing. Outstanding. Inexplicable. Improbable. These words lead us to expect earth-shaking events. Burning bushes or parting seas. Let us reconsider these impressions.

In her Memoir Ordinary Times Nancy Mairs Says… “I always expect spiritual insights to shower like coins of light from on high. When instead they bubble up from the mire like will-of-the-wisps, I am invariably startled.”

Spiritual Insights are Glimpses of the Underneath of Life. Illumination of what is usually hidden. Veiled from view by the hustle of our days until we are somehow stopped for an instant of stillness. We may see then what is beneath the surface and truer than surface can ever be.

Such Moments are Miraculous. Imagine a floodlight. Recall when you have experienced an instant of brilliance seemingly out of nowhere. Always a welcome arrival. Urge the wattage of that brilliance to climb higher still. Luxuriate in the warmth of so much brightness. The surprise. The wonder. This has happened to me. There Will Be Miracles – Our Dementia Story.

Each of Us has Deposited these Moments in Our Memory Banks. Smiles that touch our hearts. Flashes of beauty beneath the retina of the inner eye. We can revitalize them in an instant. No intense pondering necessary. I consider this a miracle. A personal miracle accessible to my story and yours. Here is a simple exercise for accessing your personal miracles. I invite you to try it.

Grasp Your Memory Moment in Midair. Cradle it in the palm of your hand. Feel it ripple through your fingers. Follow as it moves up your arm and into your heart. Add to these inner sensations whatever surrounds you at this instant. Sounds. Scents. The touch of the air on your skin.

Revel in Sensual Richness Brought to Life. Drop gently out of the present. Loosen its hold on your spirit until you are fully embraced by your memory moment. Drop gently out of place. Travel wherever the incandescence of your imagination may carry you. Linger. Savor. Enjoy.

You Have Been Transported. Recognize the rapture. Edge aside whatever may attempt to distract you from your peace of mind. Do so gently, in order not to disturb the still place where your psyche allows itself to rest. When you are ready – gradually return to your now. Favor yourself with these interludes often.

Amidst Adversity Miracles Appear. This has been my experience and my blessing. Always unexpected. Often when most needed. A glimpse of light which fortifies and sustains. This exercise nurtures that ray of hope in my consciousness and enhances its glow. I share it with you.

Each of Us is a Repository of the Miraculous. All we need do is activate the amperage of our imaginations and direct that immense power within. The floodlight we each possess reveals our personal re-vision. I know this firsthand. There Will Be Miracles – Our Dementia Story.

LESSON LEARNED – Miracles are With Me Every Moment. Miracles are With You Too.

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You possess storytelling magic. Keep on writing whatever may occur.  Alice Orr. http://www.aliceorrbooks.com

Alice Orr is a number of things. Teacher. Storyteller. Former Editor and Literary Agent. Author of 15 novels, 2 novellas, a memoir, and No More Rejections: 50 Secrets to Writing a Manuscript that Sells. She blogs for writers and readers at http://www.aliceorrbooks.com.

Alice’s Memoir is titled Lifted to the Light: A Story of Struggle and Kindness. At the beating heart of this moving story a woman fights her own disease disaster. All her life she has taken care of herself. Now she faces an adversary too formidable to battle alone. An inspiring read available HERE.

Praise for Lifted to the Light: A Story of Struggle and Kindness: “I was lifted. I highly recommend this book as a can’t-put-down roadmap for anyone.” “Outstanding read. Very, very well written. Alice Orr is an amazing author.” “Honest, funny, and consoling.” “Ms. Orr is a fine, sensitive author and woman. I have read other books by her and am glad I haven’t missed this one.” “Couldn’t put it down.”

All of Alice’s Books are available HERE .

Ask Alice Your Crucial Questions. What are you most eager to know? About Alice and Jonathan’s experience? About telling your own stories? Ask your questions in the Comments section at the end of this post. Or email Alice at aliceorrbooks@gmail.com. She would love to hear from you.

http://facebook.com/aliceorrwriter/
http://twitter.com/AliceOrrBooks/
http://goodreads.com/aliceorr/
http://pinterest.com/aliceorrwriter/

 

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Ponder the Preciousness – Our Dementia Story

Ponder the Preciousness – Our Dementia Story. Once Upon a Time – on a day just past fifty-two years ago – I was too harried to be nervous. The next several hours were my wedding gift for my husband-to-be. My Jonathan. I had kept it all a secret. He had no idea what was planned.

A Hundred Details were Yet to be Addressed. I had made many lists as always. Thank heaven for that because soon our little house on Burnup Road in Black River, New York would be overrun by my women friends impatient to take charge .

Ours was a Homemade Wedding from the Start. This day would be everything my previous marriage that crashed and vanished had never been. No upscale impressive venue. No silver embossed matchbooks. Only the golden-hearted efforts of our precious personal community.

The Cake was Baked by a Relative’s Roommate. The turkey and ham were from the ovens of our mothers in law. Hors d’oeuvres and salads were concocted in our own kitchen that very day by a sisterhood of strong women wielding vegetable peelers and powerful opinions.

The Sisterhood Forced Me Out Eventually. I had found my nervousness and was causing too much fuss. Off I went with a bridesmaid to be gowned in hippie homespun still waiting for a hem and soft slippers to keep my clumsy self from stumbling down the aisle.

I Cannot Remember Getting to the Church. Jonathan and I walked to the altar together. Nobody owned me so I did not need to be given away. Neither did he. I can remember every step we took. To this very day – I Ponder the Preciousness – Our Dementia Story.

I Designed the Ceremony to Reflect Our Love. Still, what happened that day astonished even me. Thanks to the passion of the players. A profound reading from a beloved friend. A soulful song composed and performed by my brother. An inspired blessing by a former priest in flowing robes. Jonathan reveled in everything as I had hoped he would.

Also Surprises I had not Planned. My son created beautiful baskets of wildflowers and roses for my bridesmaids. A vintage Cadillac at the church door whisked us away to our Burnup Road reception. Coworkers had filled our bathtub with ice and champagne bottles.

All Day Long Memories were Born. Moments that caught in our hearts. Moments to split your seams with laughter. Moments bathed by tears. Moments as sunlit as the yellow rose bouquet I never tossed to anyone because I could not bear to let it go.

We have Lived a Half-Century of Memories Since Then. Adventures. Struggles. Triumphs. Disappointments. Joy. Astonishment. Regret. Celebration. Tragedy too because our Once Upon a Time has been reality not fairy tale. Now we Ponder the Preciousness – Our Dementia Story.

LESSON LEARNED – Perpetually ponder every preciousness.

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You possess storytelling magic. Keep on writing whatever may occur. AliceOrr http://www.aliceorrbooks.com

Alice Orr is a number of things. Teacher. Storyteller. Former Editor and Literary Agent. Author of 15 novels, 2 novellas, a memoir, and No More Rejections: 50 Secrets to Writing a Manuscript that Sells. She also blogs for writers and readers at http://www.aliceorrbooks.com.

Alice’s Memoir is titled Lifted to the Light: A Story of Struggle and Kindness. At the beating heart of this moving story a woman fights her own disease disaster. All her life she has taken care of herself. Now she faces an adversary too formidable to battle alone. An inspiring read available HERE.

Praise for Lifted to the Light: A Story of Struggle and Kindness: “I was lifted. I highly recommend this book as a can’t-put-down roadmap for anyone.” “Outstanding read. Very, very well written. Alice Orr is an amazing author.” “Honest, funny, and consoling.” “Ms. Orr is a fine, sensitive author and woman. I have read other books by her and am glad I haven’t missed this one.” “Couldn’t put it down.”

All of Alice’s Books are available HERE .

Ask Alice Your Crucial Questions. What are you most eager to know? About Alice and Jonathan’s experience? About telling your own stories? Ask your questions in the Comments section at the end of this post. Or email Alice at aliceorrbooks@gmail.com. She would love to hear from you.

http://facebook.com/aliceorrwriter/
http://twitter.com/AliceOrrBooks/
http://goodreads.com/aliceorr/
http://pinterest.com/aliceorrwriter/

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Forget About the Eggshells – Our Dementia Story

Forget About the Eggshells – Our Dementia Story. In two weeks, my husband Jonathan and I will have been married fifty-two years. Which does not count our half-year courtship before the wedding happened. We met in March and spent the next few months in tentative mode, circling one another from afar. Our dance among the eggshells had begun.

The Tempo was Twitchy-Jittery-Nervous at First. I detected signals of interest from his side of the dance floor and expected an approach at any moment. But Jonathan was shy. Twitchy-jittery-nervous continued long after the band had packed up and gone home. Until my patience wore characteristically thin and I made the first move.

We have Traversed the Dance Catalog Ever Since. Begun and middled and continued with the Back and Forth Two-Step. Leading weight on his foot. Then leading weight on mine. Choreography and competition. Often at the expense of the eggshells scattered beneath our feet. The same way eggshells are scattered beneath every couple I have ever known.

Which Brings Me to the Six Arguments. I have a theory that every long-term relationship features six signature arguments. Three serious and better suited to the boxing ring than the dance floor. Three frivolous but still worthy of a turn among the eggshells.

Specifics Vary from Couple to Couple. Sometimes we strut. Other times we glide in and out of reach. Occasionally we face off like the Cock-A-Doodle-Doos in the picture above. Always engaged between ballet and brawl in a configuration all our own. We will confine serious contention to private dances for now. The three frivolous fights Jonathan and I favor step out as follows.

Full-Moon Minuet. Whatever geography we may currently inhabit, our heckle over the heavens remains the same. He says, “The moon is full tonight.” I look up and respond, “Not quite,” pointing out a flatness at the lower edge. We carry on in that vein, month after month, year after year, even when the sky is mostly overcast. And both of us are relatively right.

Tune-the-TV Tango. The notes of this number shift with every technological advance. Our present debate quick steps each evening. To binge or not to binge? Jonathan’s occasional short-term memory glitch makes complicated narratives a challenge. We make a joke of it and muddle through. Forget About the Eggshells – Our Dementia Story

Time-versus-Distance Drag. Which is a drag because, frivolous or not, this disagreement can take on heat. Something sort of significant is at stake. In New York City, subway options are the issue. Uptown or downtown or crosstown? We each have pet preferences for getting wherever whenever. Out of town, thank heaven for GPS or murderous mayhem might ensue.

We could Easily Settle our Signature Silliness. Check calendar phases of the moon. Google binge and non-binge options before screening. Clock travel times from one subway stop to the next. Phone-map rural routes in advance. We could make smoothness of communication our first priority, as is relentlessly advised for all relationships. Especially relationships like Jonathan’s and mine where eggshells abound because dementia is in the mix.

Simple as That – Decades of Atonal Music would Fall Silent. We’d leave the dance floor. Eggshells everywhere would be safe from our tromping toes. But what would we do then? Simper across a table-width of trumped-up tranquility? Would our rooster reds still reflect a fierce feisty sun – setting though that sun may be? We think not. Forget About the Eggshells – Our Dementia Story.

LESSON LEARNED – HERE COMES THE SUN. Doo doo doo doo. HERE COMES THE STORM. Doo doo doo doo.  IT’S ALL RIGHT.

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You possess storytelling magic. Keep on writing whatever may occur. AliceOrr  http://www.aliceorrbooks.com

Alice Orr is a number of things. Teacher. Storyteller. Former Editor and Literary Agent. Author of 15 novels, 2 novellas, a memoir, and No More Rejections: 50 Secrets to Writing a Manuscript that Sells. She also blogs for writers and readers at http://www.aliceorrbooks.com.

Alice’s Latest Novel – A Time of Fear and Loving – is Amanda and Mike’s second dance through eggshells. Every step takes them deeper into danger. Don’t miss the suspense. Don’t deny yourself the romance. Available HERE.

Praise for A Time of Fear & Loving. “I never want an Alice Orr book to end.” “Alice Orr is the queen of ramped-up stakes and page-turning suspense.” “Warning. Don’t read before bed. You won’t want to sleep.” “The tension in this novel is through the roof.”
“A budding romance that sizzles in the background until it ignites with passion.”
“The best one yet, Alice!”

All of Alice’s Books are available HERE .

Ask Alice Your Crucial Questions. What are you most eager to know? About Alice and Jonathan’s experience? About telling your own stories? Ask your questions in the Comments section at the end of this post. Or email Alice at aliceorrbooks@gmail.com. She would love to hear from you.

http://facebook.com/aliceorrwriter/
http://twitter.com/AliceOrrBooks/
http://goodreads.com/aliceorr/
http://pinterest.com/aliceorrwriter/

 

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No Secrets Please – Our Dementia Story

No Secrets Please – Our Dementia Story. My mother was mentally ill. Her dis-ease displayed itself in many ways. Rage and violence at one end of her emotional spectrum. Fear and brooding at the other. Everyone could see her tortured extremes. No one said a word about them.

I Remember our Family Doctor Visiting my Father. Doctor Benny was a man who could be harsh in his pronouncements, but that day he was a gentle mentor. He told my father that my mother needed help and what kind of help that should be. My father flew into one of his own rages and sent Doctor Benny away.

The Family Secret was Saved but My Mother was not. She remained imprisoned in the fearful darkness of her affliction. She remained shut away from possible relief as surely as if she were locked up in a backroom and the key had been thrown away. We remained imprisoned with her – all afflicted by secrets and silence – all denying the truth in front of our eyes..

Openness would have Released Us from Our Prison. Openness would have allowed light into our mutually occupied backroom. Instead, we suffered in the dark, our mouths sealed by shame, our hearts clutched by fear. Secrets held us captive – my mother most mercilessly of all. What a gift it would have been if someone had spoken the truth.

Jonathan and I have Chosen an Open Road. We make no secret of his dementia. Our families know. Our friends know. We know. You know. There are no secrets here. No locked rooms. No silence. No shame or embarrassment or even sheepishness. We have freed ourselves from all of that. Jonathan most fully of all. No Secrets Please – Our Dementia Story.

Not Everyone is Comfortable with Our Openness. When the subject of dementia arises, some people quickly change the subject. They are discomforted. Sometimes they fawn over Jonathan as if he were a wounded bird. Sometimes they turn away. Sometimes they disappear altogether.

Those who Turn Away are Themselves Afflicted. They are afflicted by fear. They are afflicted by the images broadcast on television. Images designed to create a panic and sell outrageously expensive pharmaceuticals. Those who turn away are more comfortable with the secret. We are more comfortable in the light.

I Remember that My Mother Almost Never Smiled. I never saw the smile in the above photo in real life – not that I can recall. I think about how alone and lonely the mother I did see must have been. I remember how alone and lonely we all were. We were isolated in the darkness – the dark backroom closet of our silence and our shame.

The Only Antidote for Darkness is the Light. In light we experience the dawn. In light a smile breaks through our fears. In light shines the love that frees us all. In the light my mother might have embraced the dawn – regained her smile – been at least a bit more free. No Secrets Please – Our Dementia Story.

LESSON LEARNED – LET THERE BE LIGHT.

You possess storytelling magic. Keep on writing whatever may occur. AliceOrr  http://www.aliceorrbooks.com

Alice Orr is a number of things. Teacher. Storyteller. Former Editor and Literary Agent. Author of 15 novels, 2 novellas, a memoir, and No More Rejections: 50 Secrets to Writing a Manuscript that Sells. She also blogs for writers and readers at http://www.aliceorrbooks.com.

Alice’s Memoir is titled Lifted to the Light: A Story of Struggle and Kindness. At the beating heart of this moving story a woman fights her own disease disaster. All her life she has taken care of herself. Now she faces an adversary too formidable to battle alone. An inspiring read available HERE.

Praise for Lifted to the Light: A Story of Struggle and Kindness: “I was lifted. I highly recommend this book as a can’t-put-down roadmap for anyone.” “Outstanding read. Very, very well written. Alice Orr is an amazing author.” “Honest, funny, and consoling.” “Ms. Orr is a fine, sensitive author and woman. I have read other books by her and am glad I haven’t missed this one.” “Couldn’t put it down.”

All of Alice’s Books are available HERE .

Ask Alice Your Crucial Questions. What are you most eager to know? About Alice and Jonathan’s experience? About telling your own stories? Ask your questions in the Comments section at the end of this post. Or email Alice at aliceorrbooks@gmail.com. She would love to hear from you.

http://facebook.com/aliceorrwriter/
http://twitter.com/AliceOrrBooks/
http://goodreads.com/aliceorr/
http://pinterest.com/aliceorrwriter/

 

 

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Speaking Falsehoods to Power – Our Dementia Story

Speaking Falsehoods to Power – Our Dementia Story. My husband is a charming man. I had no intention of remarrying before I met him. Tried it. Was miserable. My late Grandma’s wisdom spoke to me as it has so often. “Not for you” she said. Then there was Jonathan. The rest is a fifty-three-year story that began with his blue-eyed smile in 1972.

Nobody Wants a Dementia Diagnosis. Any of us would most likely use just about any means necessary to avoid hearing those words or reading those test results or facing those prospects. Jonathan’s means of avoidance was his charm.

My Wife Says I Forget Things. Do you know a single wife who does not contend that her husband forgets things? “My wife says I forget things.” That is what Jonathan told his young doctor. Then he smiled. Then they shared a chuckle.

We Needed a Referral for Testing. Jonathan’s charm target was our gateway to a world class neurology staff a half-dozen blocks from our home. We already had strong connections there. Jon would be treated as an individual instead of a case file there.

Early Detection was Crucial. The faster the professionals identify a disease the better it is for the patient. This is definitely true of dementia. Brain scan. Blood tests. Whatever they have in their diagnostic kitbag as ASAP as possible. Too bad Jon’s lifelong characteristic deployment of the dimples did his trick. His doc deemed no follow-up necessary. So much for ASAP at our nearby facility.

Finding a New Facility was Crucial. We live across the East River from Manhattan. I would have to search there. Lots of world class places. Huge. Formidable. Complex places. I was duly intimidated but waded in anyway. Across the river and into the medical bureaucracy.

Getting their Attention was Crucial. I faced a wall that seemed impregnable to me. A cheek-by-jowl array of massive structures and impersonal systems. These were the adversaries I was about to confront. I stared at that wall and felt myself shrink in significance by the second. Would they even notice me – much less hear my story?

Frustration Maximized my Motivation. It took hard-fought months to get into one of those massive facilities. On appointment day a waiting line overflowed the reception area into the lobby. It took nerve racking hours to get a brain scan scheduled. Too bad they could not fit us in for several weeks more. We needed a reroute back to the human dimensions of our neighborhood.

Sling Shot Time. I was no match for the powerful arm of the big city medical establishment. I could feel the fist at the end of that arm clenched above me. I could foresee that fist pounding my insignificant self and our predicament to bits. David had a sling and some pebbles to wield against Goliath. I had my will and some wiliness.

I Began to Obfuscate. I cannot say I lied. Grandma is up there listening. She would return from her resting place and rebuke me for a lie. Obfuscate is a safer term for what I did from then on with almost every gatekeeper I encountered. Never in person. They could not see my trembling limbs and terrified eyes as I was Speaking Falsehoods to Power – Our Dementia Story.

I Obfuscated Creatively. First I only faked a doctor referral – or maybe two. Next I pretended to be a doctor’s assistant. Altered my voice to sound medical. I guessed my ruses might be most effective at the end of the day when folks were tired. I did what I believed I had to do and it worked. Jonathan’s brain scan happened ASAP and where we needed it to happen. A half-dozen blocks from home.

I Never Got Over Being Terrified of Goliath. I was certain the powers that be would discover what I was doing. I told myself my motives were right and righteous. My beloved husband needed help as fast as we could get it. Nothing must stop that. Not my own trepidation. Certainly not the possibility of sanctions by my bureaucratic betters.

Jon’s Brain Scan Diagnosed Dementia. Treatment began and has proceeded positively so far. We focus on the hopefulness of that and on how much we love each other. Grandma is with us. She kisses the top of my head like she did when I was a little girl. She understands why – when necessary – her bigger girl will be Speaking Falsehoods to Power – Our Dementia Story.

LESSON LEARNED – GET YOUR LOVED ONES WHAT THEY NEED AND DESERVE. Remember David. Find yourself a sling. Drop your determination into it. Steady your knocking knees. Take your shot.

**********

You possess storytelling magic. Keep on writing whatever may occur. AliceOrr  http://www.aliceorrbooks.com

Alice Orr is a number of things. Teacher. Storyteller. Former Editor and Literary Agent. Author of 15 novels, 2 novellas, a memoir, and No More Rejections: 50 Secrets to Writing a Manuscript that Sells. She also blogs for writers and readers at http://www.aliceorrbooks.com.

Alice’s Memoir is titled Lifted to the Light: A Story of Struggle and Kindness. At the beating heart of this moving story a woman fights her own disease disaster. All her life she has taken care of herself. Now she faces an adversary too formidable to battle alone. An inspiring read available HERE.

Praise for Lifted to the Light: A Story of Struggle and Kindness: “I was lifted. I highly recommend this book as a can’t-put-down roadmap for anyone.” “Outstanding read. Very, very well written. Alice Orr is an amazing author.” “Honest, funny, and consoling.” “Ms. Orr is a fine, sensitive author and woman. I have read other books by her and am glad I haven’t missed this one.” “Couldn’t put it down.”

All of Alice’s Books are available HERE .

Ask Alice Your Crucial Questions. What are you most eager to know? About Alice and Jonathan’s experience? About telling your own stories? Ask your questions in the Comments section at the end of this post. Or email Alice at aliceorrbooks@gmail.com. She would love to hear from you.

http://facebook.com/aliceorrwriter/
http://twitter.com/AliceOrrBooks/
http://goodreads.com/aliceorr/
http://pinterest.com/aliceorrwriter/

 

 

 

The post Speaking Falsehoods to Power – Our Dementia Story appeared first on Alice Orr Books.

Oh No I’m a Caregiver – Our Dementia Story Begins

Oh No I’m a Caregiver – Our Dementia Story Begins. I have long written and taught and talked about how others can discover the best stories they have to tell. Stories from the center of their beating hearts. Now I have such a story myself. This is a cautionary tale. I will tell it here.

I Cannot Recall the Moment of my First Inkling that Something Terrible was Happening. I know it was long before the day my husband Jonathan walked blithely out the door to what should have been a pivotal medical appointment. I also now know I should have questioned his insistence on going alone. I should have been more cautious. I should have gone with him.

 I had Felt the Terrible Thing Looming for as Long as a Year Before that Day. A quirk in the corner of my awareness. Something off. A ping of the antenna that usually urges me to pay attention to details. Unfortunately my entirely full attention would not become engaged until later – when the quirk in the corner turned into an alert and the alert status intensified toward bright red.

 I Cannot Tell You What Exactly to Look as the Onset of Dementia. A small signal. Then another. Then another. My signals emerged from the experience of fifty-plus years with my husband. Our life together had not been an easy passage. I have never broadcast that before. I have portrayed us – Jonathan and me and our marriage – as very easy indeed.

“Couple Number One.” Somebody declared us that once as we swept into some social event or other. Dolled up and delightful as was our habit in those days. Scripted to present precisely the intended image. An old friend recently told me this. “The two of you embody the kind of relationship that I would have liked to have.” Neither description actually applies.

The Intention of This Story is to be Authentic. What use is it to you otherwise? Our story is about a real dilemma confronting real human beings with real human problems. Most dementia stories reveal the details of the disease but not the details of the flawed lives the disease most often interrupts. Our lives and our story are as flawed as we are ourselves.

Back to My First inklings. Moments of confusion I brushed aside. Contemporary life can be confusing to anyone after all. Sometimes I find it difficult to discern what is up from what is down myself. Jonathan’s memory lapses caught my notice first. Their increasing occurrence set my alarm pinging too insistently to ignore. Oh No I’m a Caregiver – Our Dementia Story Begins

“Let’s Find Out about This.” I repeated that plea several times. The response was always the same. A sneer. A scoff. A burst of outrage. I backed off then. I had veered too close to Jonathan’s anxiety triggers before and was not about to risk the result again. Not yet anyway.

 I Have My Own Temper – Fierce and Angry – then Gone. Jonathan’s temper is different. Usually repressed. More rage than anger when let loose. Building from the floor of him in a rush to explosion force with shrapnel flying everywhere. Better not to be in that blast zone. Best not to trigger an explosion in the first place.

 But I Had to Do Something. His annual primary care physician checkup was pending. I made my plea more specific. “Talk about your memory problems. Get a referral to a neurologist.” Jon agreed. I should have remembered he does that when he wants to shut me up.

 I Wish I could Recall the Details of Jon’s Return from his Doctor Visit. Where I stood. The quality of light in our apartment that afternoon. A vivid image to record in my journal. A picture peg on which to hang the statement that signaled the first battle of the war to come. The battle I would have to wage.

“I Told Her My Wife Thinks I Forget Things.” Jonathan smirked as he said that to me. I imagined his cute smile as he said it to her. Jon can be a charmer when it suits his purpose. His young physician did not take me seriously. That closed the door to further testing at our conveniently local medical facility. And plunged me into a chasm of conflict with the medical system. Oh No I’m a Caregiver – Our Dementia Story Begins.

LESSONS LEARNED – FEEL FREE TO BENEFIT FROM THEM YOURSELF

Never Underestimate the Power of Denial – Nobody wants dementia. Not for yourself. Not for someone you love. It is a truth you do not wish to admit. Now or ever. Not to anyone. Do not tell yourself the warning signs are nothing to worry about.

Never Underestimate the Power of Self-Deception. You may truly be blind to dementia’s presence and believe your blindness to be light. Do not overlook the warning signs. Do not tell yourself they are something other than what they could actually be.

Never Underestimate the Absolutely Crucial Advantage of Early Detection. This is the real reason to see and recognize and admit the possibility of Dementia where you wish/hope/pray it is not. The quality of your future life depends on it. Do not lose the advantage of early diagnosis and treatment.

**********

You possess storytelling magic. Keep on writing whatever may occur. AliceOrr  http://www.aliceorrbooks.com

Alice Orr is a number of things. Teacher. Storyteller. Former Editor and Literary Agent. Author of 15 novels, 2 novellas, a memoir, and No More Rejections: 50 Secrets to Writing a Manuscript that Sells. She also blogs for writers and readers at http://www.aliceorrbooks.com.

Alice’s Memoir is titled Lifted to the Light: A Story of Struggle and Kindness. At the beating heart of this moving story a woman fights her own disease disaster. All her life she has taken care of herself. Now she faces an adversary too formidable to battle alone. An inspiring read available HERE.

Praise for Lifted to the Light: A Story of Struggle and Kindness: “I was lifted. I highly recommend this book as a can’t-put-down roadmap for anyone.” “Outstanding read. Very, very well written. Alice Orr is an amazing author.” “Honest, funny, and consoling.” “Ms. Orr is a fine, sensitive author and woman. I have read other books by her and am glad I haven’t missed this one.” “Couldn’t put it down.”

All of Alice’s Books are available HERE .

Ask Alice Your Crucial Storytelling Questions. What are you most eager to know about how to discover the strongest stories you have in you? Ask your questions in the Comments section at the end of this post. Alice will answer.

  http://facebook.com/aliceorrwriter/
http://twitter.com/AliceOrrBooks/
http://goodreads.com/aliceorr/
http://pinterest.com/aliceorrwriter/

 

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Here’s Looking at Your Story Character

Here’s Looking at Your Story Character. Let’s Go to the Movies. I use films as storytelling examples more often than I use books. Because more of us have seen the same movies than have read the same books. Some movies have produced story character icons in our culture. Rick Blaine played by Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca is one of those icons.

Let’s Lay on Time Setting Drama from the Start. Casablanca came out in 1942. The world was immersed in the horrific drama of World War II. The film opening taps directly into that with a map of Europe and then Northern Africa running beneath the credits.

Let’s Lay on Place Setting Drama Too. Maps were very significant then. They played in theater news reels. They appeared in newspapers alongside stories of heart-stopping events. Battles. Troop movements. All in places that represented life and death to a 1942 audience.

Let’s Set the Stage for Your Dramatic Character. Rick has not yet so much as shown his face and we are already on the edge of our seats. A story’s opening has a lot of work to do. A hero character has a lot of weight to carry. How do you confront these challenges in your story?

Let’s Begin with Your Dramatic Opening. Picture your potential reader checking out the sample pages of your story online or scanning them in a bookstore aisle. You get one chance to make this first impression. You must not squander that chance. Here’s Looking at Your Story Character.

Let’s Plunge Your Hero into Trouble. Start with a situation where your hero feels as if their current world is being yanked out from under them. For Rick – Ilsa returns. She is the lover from the past who broke his heart. From this point on his life will never be the same again.

Let’s Make Your Hero Struggle. A struggle begins at your story’s opening. Something dramatic is already in progress. Casablanca uses Rick’s history for this. He must struggle against past hurt and present anger. Consider doing something like that in your story.

Let’s Create High Stakes for Your Hero. Something crucial is at stake for your character and for others too. Decisive action is desperately needed. Dire circumstances will result if your character fails to fulfill this desperate need. Rick must save a war hero from deathly peril.

Let’s Make Success a Long Shot for Your Hero. Obstacles to your characters purpose are already evident at the beginning of your story. Formidable obstacles. Powerful confrontations are inevitable. Rick is pitted against Nazis. Put your character in truly intense danger also.

Let’s Make Your Hero Decide to Act Anyway. Your character recognizes the danger and would prefer to avoid it. But somebody must do something. Nobody else steps up. Your hero makes a conscious decision to act. That decision sets your story in motion. Like Rick in Casablanca your hero must save the day – and they both will. Here’s Looking at Your Story Character.

AliceOrr. http://www.aliceorrbooks.com. Teacher. Storyteller. Former Editor and Literary Agent. Author of 15 novels, 2 novellas, a memoir, and No More Rejections: 50 Secrets to Writing a Manuscript that Sells. Blogging here for writers. “What A Character! How to Create Characters that Live and Breathe on the Page.”

Alice’s Memoir is titled Lifted to the Light: A Story of Struggle and Kindness. At the beating heart of this moving story a woman struggles. All her life, she has taken care of herself. Now she faces an adversary too formidable to battle alone. Available HERE.

Praise for Lifted to the Light: A Story of Struggle and Kindness: “I was lifted. I highly recommend this book as a can’t-put-down roadmap for anyone.” “Outstanding read. Very, very well written.” “Honest, funny, and consoling.” “Ms. Orr is a fine, sensitive author and woman. I have read other books by her and am glad didn’t miss this one.”

All of Alice’s Books are available HERE.

Ask Alice Your Crucial Questions. What are you most eager to know about how to discover the strongest story characters you have in you? Ask your questions in the Comments section at the end of this post. Alice will answer.

http://twitter.com/AliceOrrBooks/
http://goodreads.com/aliceorr/
http://pinterest.com/aliceorrwriter/

http://facebook.com/aliceorrwriter/

 

 

The post Here’s Looking at Your Story Character appeared first on Alice Orr Books.

May Inspires Your Story Characters – and You

May Inspires Your Story Characters – and You. May represents rebirth. Fertility. Anticipation of something new. Here it comes. The start of something. A surge of excitement. Listen. Your writer’s heart is beating faster. May is Inspiration. Let’s get inspired!!!

All Things Seem Possible in May (Edwin Way Teale – Author). Let’s create some possibility. Take advantage of the spring weather. Go somewhere public. Pick a person – or a victim – from the crowd. What do they inspire for you as character material?

Spring is When Life is Alive in Everything (Christina Rosetti – Author). Life is alive in this person you have chosen to observe. Life is alive in your writer’s imagination. Let’s imagine. What are they doing here on this particular day at this particular time? As a storyteller you need conflict and complication. Something is upsetting them today? Why are they upset?

May is the Month of Expectation, the Month of Wishes (Emily Bronte – Author). Let’s explore that upset. Give your subject a name to make them more real to you. Call them Jo. Jo has a dream. Something very dear to them. What is that dream? Why is it so very dear?

May More than Any Other Month Wants Us to Feel Most Alive (Fennel Hudson – Author). This dream makes Jo feel wonderfully alive. Let’s make Jo the hero of your story. That means their dream is most likely something you can root for and want them to achieve. Jo’s dream makes you as storyteller wonderfully alive also – ready to soar.

Spring is the Time for Plans and Projects (Leo Tolstoy – Author). Let’s get intense. Jo hopes hard for this dream to happen. Jo desperately needs that or Jo’s life will go terribly wrong. You as storyteller must be a troublemaker. Plunge Jo’s dream into trouble. Make that trouble dire. Disrupt Jo’s plans. How will you do that? Let your wicked imagination fly.

Hope Sleeps in Our Bones Like a Bear Waiting for Spring to Rise and Walk (Marge Piercy – Author). Jo makes a hero’s choice to rise up and fight the trouble you have created. Jo is a bear rather than a bunny. Jo’s story ignites. Struggle erupts. Jo’s desperate need to succeed fuels the flames. Your storyteller’s appetite has a page-turner on its menu for May.

You Can Cut All the Flowers but You Cannot Keep Spring from Coming (Pablo Neruda – Author). Do you write popular fiction? Is your goal a story lots of readers will read and not be able to put down until they reach the end? If so – make that ending a triumph for Jo. By the skin of their teeth after a flat-out exhausting battle – but a triumph all the same.

May is a Month of Magic (Me). Hey. Is that you the storyteller still sitting on your observer’s park bench or wherever? Get on home and start writing. Jo and your imagination and the mighty month of May have given you a smashing story tell. I hope you took good notes. May Inspires Your Story Characters – and You.

You possess storytelling magic. Keep on writing whatever may occur.

AliceOrr. http://www.aliceorrbooks.com. Teacher. Storyteller. Former Editor and Literary Agent. Author of 15 novels, 2 novellas, a memoir, and No More Rejections: 50 Secrets to Writing a Manuscript that Sells. Blogging here for writers. “What A Character! How to Create Characters that Live and Breathe on the Page.”

Alice’s Memoir is titled Lifted to the Light: A Story of Struggle and Kindness. At the beating heart of this moving story a woman struggles. All her life, she has taken care of herself. Now she faces an adversary too formidable to battle alone. Available HERE.

Praise for Lifted to the Light: A Story of Struggle and Kindness: “I was lifted. I highly recommend this book as a can’t-put-down roadmap for anyone.” “Outstanding read. Very, very well written.” “Honest, funny, and consoling.” “Ms. Orr is a fine, sensitive author and woman. I have read other books by her and am glad didn’t miss this one.”

All of Alice’s Books are available HERE.

Ask Alice Your Crucial Questions. What are you most eager to know about how to discover the strongest story characters you have in you? Ask your questions in the Comments section at the end of this post. Alice will answer.

http://facebook.com/aliceorrwriter/
http://twitter.com/AliceOrrBooks/
http://goodreads.com/aliceorr/
http://pinterest.com/aliceorrwriter/

 

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