Ah, Let's begin with the POOL!

First let's start with a bit...who am I kidding...a lot of background on this topic. The pool was built around 1968. In May of 2009 I was faced with this pool and how my father had done things for over 20 years, alone. The filter-same one as in 1968. Through the years the parts support disappeared, OBVIOUSLY. So my Dad's creative brain had found ways to make, alter or fix everything associated with this pool. He wouldn't have a contractor come out to help him fix it. Because he just knew when they saw the age and how long it had been off the market~they would have spent all the time trying to sell him a new system.

The summer after my Dad passed and I began to 'attempt' the pool issue I had to argue with a local pool company. They informed me this pool wasn't cement and MUST have a vinyl line. Fortunately I whipped out my camera and showed the clerk the pool. "I've never seen one like that....I can't help you". {Hm, not as dumb as he looked!}

Over the last 2+ years I've done battle with everything from friends who thought they would 'help' me, no pressure so vacuuming and maintenance impossible, chemical battles to keep it as it should be, pumps which smoked and sparked just as I was ready to run the filter. Sometimes I think I'm an ongoing Alien Experiment and they must be ROFLTAO watching, as I deal with this pool.

So now I'm in my 3rd summer of pool wars and each year I know what to face and have managed quite nicely. But the filter.....still the one from 1968. And this year the leaks in PVC which my father patched, repaired and replaced over the years, are back with a vengeance. Plus my usual 'entertain the Aliens' with everything from removing the pool cover to pulling the frogs, mice and voles out of the water. Oh yea, the background. Might as well start at the top with the entire property....here goes~~

When my parents bought this house in 1986 it looked somewhat like this~All together now, OOOO!---Ahhh!. An arial tour? Certainly! And perhaps what I've been talking about and WILL be talking about will make more sense. On left, at the 0900 position traveling in a clockwise direction. Tiny little pine hedges which now are too high for me to cut them with a ladder but that doesn't stop me for firing up the chain saw. Pool with gravel area, which now is the home of the 4000+ bricks I've written about. {Badminton net in yard}. At 1100 a row of bushes and what strongly resembles an outhouse-on its right an actual shed where lawn care equipment could be found. Still a few trees next to where the  outhouse like structure was along with the tool shed. The area where the tool shed sat was for many years a garden and for the last 2 years branches, trimmings from bushes + and where I am now doing battle with the Jr. John Deere. THE LITTLE HOUSE which I tend to refer to as the LH, still there but about 30 years of wear and tear on the roof and the little tree to the left of the french doors is gone. The 2 huge Tulip Trees  and our mailboxes. The Tulip trees are still there and every day I can be found picking up branches~large and small~from the front yard. Although still tall much less dense overall. Mailbox is still there but on a much nicer stronger wooden frame.  Down the road to where the dirt road round runs along the bottom, see those 2 trees in the front yard directly in front of the porch, their big suckers now. And those 2 bushes either side of the front walk, about the same ......but the other little bushes much much bigger. At the lower right of the wrap around porch, the Butterfly bushes  have migrated along the side porch up to where a screened in section begins and the pine tree at the corner is above 15' higher than the roof. I've attacked it with a chain saw also to clear the wires. The Main house is field stone and originally a summer house and and smoke house. Kitchen is the addition on the back. At the 0600 spot is a Quince Bush which I HATE. It has thorns which tear the heck out of me as I attempt to mow. Last year I did a Quince Bush version of the Texas Chain Saw Massacre but its still there and insists on growing. When I get my Dad's chain saw tightened up AGAIN, its going to be HISTORY.

A telephone pole with a tiny Hydrangea bush to its left, the Hydrangea is now 10 feet tall and that tree next to it is over 30 feet high. The actual land goes a bit further and then straight down to the '1100' trees.

The house is over a hundred years old and when the guy put the pool in 68', {I am thinking its the story I heard} he also winterized the inside. Which meant a stairway, landing, stairway to the second floor to a loft area with a walkway all around, 3 bedrooms and a bath upstairs. Downstairs a great room with beautiful stone hearth/fireplace. But it has pine paneling throughout and deep set windows so just doesn't let in much light which can really wear during the winter. Utility room passing from the great room off which is the downstairs bathroom and then into the kitchen.

Why, you ask do I tell you all this? Because in 86' when my parents purchased it, my Dad was 58 years old and my Mom 57. He had already bought the old farm in Maine and 'fixed' up that house. And he insisted on doing it again. He was inventive, determined, talented, a hard worker and just didn't listen to reason. Through the years the plans he kept making grew, many were accomplished. But he also commenced substitute teaching for 21 years. And as he aged with normal health issues it was a full time job with substituting and doing the pool, yard, garden and all the normal tasks of maintaining cars and homes. But he just wouldn't lower his goals.

I would say that is a good thing for any of us to do, have goals....its what keeps us alive. But, here we go again.....Alzheimer's. The houses and his projects had always been a source of contention between my parents and all in all when younger, my support was on his side. But as he aged and his brain began to be attacked, plus just plain nearing 80, my support logically drifted to my Mother's side of the debate. He couldn't physically do all he wanted. He wouldn't admit it to himself let alone others. And eventually could not understand or even accept his limitations. But give up.....GET A GRIP!

I always have said about my Dad .....THE QUALITIES WHICH MADE HIM SO SUCCESSFUL WHEN YOUNG WERE THE QUALITIES WHICH PREVENTED HIM FROM DEALING WITH HIS ALZHEIMER'S. I'm certain the same could be said of all who suffer with the disease.

So here I am, my third summer.....POOL WARS

Long Stressful Week

Where to start? Last post I was gearing up to tackle the Junior John Deere and......summer. So over the weekend I called the gentlemen who assisted with the first load of metal. He volunteered to take items to the dump/landfill and would 'get' the Senior John Deere for metal. He stopped by Monday, we set up a time of 0900 Wednesday morning.

All points covered and plans rolling? The story of my life is 'if you think you have everything covered, OBVIOUSLY you have overlooked something'. Ya see, 2 weeks prior when he took the first load he mentioned his 'girlfriend' was looking for a rental as her lease expired 1 June. At that point the evening of the first metal day, our doorbell rang. Gentleman and girlfriend. Asked to look at the property, I handed over a key, they came back later, she handed me back the key, "it is a beautiful place", and left. No problem, guess renting issue was closed.

Now on Monday, after appointment for Wednesday is set, while I'm up 'working' at the house, my Mom calls. Says the gentleman and girlfriend stopped by and 'she' wishes to speak about renting. I come home, they come by, we talk.

Ya know, I have been stressed and alone the last 2+ years with everything from lawn/landscape, pool-an unending source of humor for OTHERS as I'm still at the bottom point of the learning curve {adventures will follow}, clearing, sorting, cleaning, organizing.......bet you get the BIG PICTURE. This summer I was just this side of anxiety attacks over how I would do all the lawn care and daily maintenance of the pool with no potential buyer in sight. THINKING, the rental would assist with those 2 specific tasks as well as people occupying therefore maintaining house the rental seemed the solution. She wanted short term, we offered excellent monthly terms. But although I didn't have a specific reason for the feeling, renting to her didn't seem to be alleviating my stress. Too many 'tells' during our conversation, in which the gentleman seemed to be signing up for all the work while she seemed to want the house completely empty of all our property. Out, not set aside, worked around or even gradually removed.

Well, between Monday at 1600 and Thursday at 1400 she demanded and fussed her way from--yes, I can rent you to NO, you won't be renting. I really must thank them both as my gut told me at the git go something wasn't according to Hoyle. And I would really enjoy thanking them both for Self Destructing in under 3 days. And the Senior John Deere is gone. And despite the gentleman being 3 hours late for the Wednesday appointment, arriving with 'she' and not announcing their arrival and steamrolling the 'dump' evolution on Wednesday that stuff is gone.

Oh, and the stress I was feeling Sunday over me~myself~I handling lawn/pool again all summer-buyer? sale? Who knows!-On Thursday at 1400 when I informed the parties of 'its off!'- it felt great. Now that is stress I can live with and frankly.....although I still don't know how I will manage....compared to the stress of those 72- hours. NO COMPARISON.

So now I'll be back about the Senior John Deere, Junior John Deere, Pool Stupidity 101 and the continuing struggle of all my Dad left my Mom and therefore ME to juggle. I just know I can hear him chuckling in my ear. But I also know he is still watching and directing the show.

Right now I have to go buy a battery for the Jr. John Deere, pick up parts to repair leaks in 2 places on the 43 year old pool filter, and mow the yard. I did get the unit to work and recirculate so that was a major win yesterday.

{Yea, Yea, Dad I'M WORKING ON THINGS}

Ah, yes-the Junior John Deere

Today the rain is still dripping and so I've stayed at home and done things here. Home is simply a rented townhouse in a rental community. Over the 2 years since my Mom returned, with my Dad resting in his urn, to Pennsylvania from snowbirding in South Carolina~~the house I spoke of in the blog description, has absorbed my attention. As the time has passed I've brought items down or spoke with her regarding the ultimate destination of these possesions. At first it seemed the answer to any question I had regarding this or that was to 'get rid of it'. Cleaning out after the passing of a loved one is an emotional deluge anyway. Plus my Dad was your basic pack rat sort, as am I. For him everything had potential for "I Can Fix That" or "I Might Need That Later".

But as the parasite Alzheimer's began to attack my Dad, even before we realized the disease was taking hold, the pack rat mentality was slowly morphing into hoarding. He didn't buy things or keep things just because and there were things he did get rid of. The sort of hoarding variety it was came in 2 forms. One was the 'good deal' sort where items where purchased for future projects. But as his memory was attacked and when a project was tackled he either couldn't remember where he had put it or didn't recall having previously purchased the item. And the 'do it myself' side of him rejected offers of helping with the project or even finding materials he had put away. Or he would ask for help with a project but when the designated time arrived to assist, there were always 'THINGS I HAVE TO DO FIRST BEFORE I NEED YOUR HELP'. And those things never got done either they were OBE {Overcome By Events} or/and the ever growing just not physically able. So the pile of materials grew.

The second type of hoarding was the result of fear of sharing control. So rather than allow others to throw things out or assist to clear away the piles, his response was always to do it himself or later. More and more frequently the anger and fear he refused to acknowledge would result in huge fights over cleaning off his desk or any other areas of his.

We wanted and requested he seek medical assistance about the forgetfulness. And once we opened that door the fear and anger kidnapped more and more of my Dad's life. No matter how many times we said the purpose for seeking answers was not to control him but rather to identify IF anything was causing the problems and what could be done to deal with it, the idea was rejected. We never used the word Alzheimer's. And he was well aware of his loss of memory but his view was it wasn't due to anything wrong with his brain. He viewed our suggestion of medical advice as a challenge of his competence.

Over the last 10 years of his life there were many hospital stays for what was a never  clearly defined physical problem. Issues with his requesting what day it was a dozen times a morning wasn't due to anything within him, it was due to the stress we were placing on him. He did deal with heart disease starting at 52 but a triple by pass had basically resolved that issue. And well over decade later, the life expectancy of the bypass, he still was going strong. Eventually there were stents, clearing of carotid artery and what seemed an unending onslaught of medications added, increased, reduced or deleted.

The oft used phrase from my Navy days.....WHEN YOU'RE UP TO YOUR ASS IN ALLIGATORS ITS DIFFICULT TO REMEMBER THAT THE INITIAL OBJECTIVE IS TO DRAIN THE SWAMP. The material which was growing around the house became one of the alligators interrupting the goal of draining the swamp, dealing with Alzheimer's.

The point I started to speak of at the beginning? The John Deere and the house full of 'stuff'. We still have both John Deere's and I'm still going to tackle the second one. And I've gone through so much, thrown out so much, organized so much and brought home items to be used where we live. I've put things into a storage locker. My brother has taken a few items and no doubt will acquire other items from the house. But the original John Deere? It still sits on the cement slab behind the house. We know someone who has taken other metal collected during the last 2 years. He will take the John Deere. I just need to call him.

The junior John Deere~~~~HM BET I CAN FIX THAT!

The John Deere's

This one? I am insane but I'm not STUPID. This one I won't and can't fix. My recollection is that this was one we had in Maine. The one my Dad fixed....again....and again......again for the 27th time.......again for the~well, you get the idea. It was a nice tractor. If memory serves me correctly this is the one my brother drove into a tree while reading a book as he was mowing the yard. NOW THAT IS A FUNNY STORY and I'll tell it shortly. 

 After we had established ourselves in the old house on a former dairy farm, the John Deere became a requirement. This house? My parents bought as their retirement home after 25 years of Naval service. My Dad loved it my Mom hated it. The house that is not the lawn.  The lawn had bit by bit, been extended via mowing a bit more as time went on. I was in college and then in the Navy and my brother in grade school through the first year of college. I mowed when home and my Dad did most of the mowing, that little 'I can do it myself personality trait'.

This tough tractor had come to Pennsylvania when my parents moved from Maine back to the area where they were born. And for over 20 years it mowed the much smaller lawn, which was a good thing as the frequency of repair was quickly overtaking the frequency of it working. So now over 2 years since Dad passed plus the year before that when he just didn't have the energy to work on it, the John Deere had been sitting in the corner of the cement slab at the back of the house.

,

What was the problem that needed repair 3+ years ago. No Clue. And that question provided one of the few genuine non stop laughs for me last summer. The man we had living at the house last summer asked that question, "What is the problem?"

Hm, you can pick a picture and select any of the available OBVIOUS ONES. But the man asking me that question last summer, as we stood beside the tractor, he didn't need a photo. And what he earned with his question my well honed look of 'Were you born that genetically stupid or is this level of stupidity something you worked very hard to achieve?' So I gamely pointed out a few of the more OBVIOUS ISSUES.

1. Flat Tire

2. That belt hanging on the cement under it

3. The fact that the front wheel seems to have 'set free' the rods which help it steer

4. Mower deck sitting over against the wall

5. Same mower deck a bucket of rust

6. Blades need cleaning and sharpening as their only ability at this point would be to whirl, make noise and bend a blade of grass but not CUT IT

6. The seat? Yes, its there but its facing backwards no doubt due to the fact that its not actually attached to the tractor. Piece of information here:Riding Mower=Sitting to Mow

7. Been 3 years + so without turning the key suspect the battery is DEAD.

8. OH, but can't check to see because doesn't seem to be a key anywhere

Guess the man thought I didn't understand the question so he clarified it for me. "No, what was the initial problem?"

That is when I started to laugh. And I couldn't stop laughing. But did manage, between guffaws, to list 1-8 again. At that point I think my Father began using the man to channel himself from the other side, as the man barked "FORGET IT, JUST FORGET IT!" And went inside. Me? I stayed outside and laughed for the next hour. And when I managed to stop laughing,  I'd walk by the tractor or just flash on the look on the man's face during the little comedy sketch we just played out... and start laughing all over again.

I know what the man was asking because his question reflected how my Dad's mind worked. IF it could be determined what 'original' issue had caused the tractor to need repair was identified......then that would be the starting point to troubleshoot and fix it first. Then on to the next issue until the problem was fixed. BUT, My mind was working like this. Duh, really beyond worrying about any ONE PROBLEM so better to expend my time on ANYTHING else semi productive. So now here we are next summer.

Oh, but there is more to the John Deere saga. A few years back a neighbors brother was selling his John Deere and my Dad bought his.

A second John Deere. One the man, in partial payment for the roof over his head, fixed last year and I used to maintain the lawn. But, something needed repair? I know, I was shocked also, NOT. The 'man' claimed as he was using it when it went belly up, thus he know what THE INITIAL PROBLEM WAS, he would fix it. By the end of October my quick brain gave in and pushed it onto the porch and covered it with a tarp. So now, lawn season had returned...John Deere not working....man now living with his son after emergency ulcer surgery in January. {Ulcer perforated, no doubt due to my laughing at him} So I get out the ramps, upon which I'd pushed it once last summer to remove the rope I'd run over which sort of interfered with the mower blades actually MOVING.

OK, now....HM BET I CAN FIX IT. {This could be fun}  Now if it would just stop raining so the grass would stop growing I'd have time to get started. Meanwhile, found the manual, actually read....well skimmed....through the things to tackle. Tomorrow, ignition~countdown~BLASTOFF!

Oh, the brother, book, and tractor story. Back to Maine....My Dad had several mowers in the barn when this occurred. And I think there were 3 involved in this comedy. My brother started mowing with the John Deere.....it broke. So while my father was fixing it my brother went on to use another mower. While my father was still working on the John Deere the 2rd mower crapped out. My brother went on to use the 3rd. And just as that one crapped out the John Deere was fixed so my brother hopped back on it and went back to the lawn. My father had 2 mowers left to fix but apparently at some point he looked out to see my brother mowing with the John Deere down by the bottom of the yard with a book in front of his face reading......as he drove the John Deere into a big tree. Makes me glad I was in the Navy by then.

Tackling the Weeds

My Dad had built a bricked patio around the in ground pool at the last house they owned, the one I mentioned on the intro. There had been stones within a cement apron which wound around the pool area. He got tired of us bringing the stones into the pool while playing. His solution, bricks. This project was CLASSIC DAD. Call in a professional? Get a friggin grip people. I CAN DO THAT!

Now I was in the Navy at that time so wasn't around for the actual 'work'. My cousin Tony had assisted. Wish now I could recall the exact amount of bricks that my Dad frequently told me had been used, but know it was well over 4,000. Before he and Tony began they posed atop the newly installed diving board.

 Now 24 years later, I sat on the back porch steps looking at the tools for tackling the weeds. Weeds which insisted on growing among the bricks. 4000 bricks x 4 sides + inner and outer edge of the cement apron=ONE HELL OF A LOT OF WEEDS. Determined buggers! This was the first summer of the year my Dad passed and in the big picture of work to be done, the weeds were not even in the top 100. So, with that in mind, I'd just spent $50 on the bottle of concentrated Round Up. There had been some in the working bottle which had gotten me maybe 25% the way around the pool. The $50 cost had been enough to make me gag but now that I'd done that, I felt committed to the project. At least I could check 'weeds in bricks' off the list, probably #4346 but HEY, CROSSED IT OFF MY LIST.

This job was just one of the hundreds of to do's my Dad and I had fenced about over the years. Removing Weeds: The first few years he tackled them with a paring knife, bucket, stool and tiny shovel, the Dad approved Method du Jour for 'weeds out from between the bricks'. When I had tried to help out, by leaning over and pulling them out, it had quickly turned into our standard..... Dad: "Let me show you how to do it". Me: " How to pull out a weed? I already know, Watch.....see." Dad: " no no no, that may tear it out without the roots. You put the knife down an inch away and moving the knife up under the weed so you can get the root." Me: "Hm, wouldn't it be easier just to reach down and yank it out. The one you just did your way left the root in anyway, Look!" Dad: heading back for the root with the knife "Then you go back and get it if it didn't come out the first time." Me: {How friggin stupid is that because...} "Hey, didn't you do all the weeds just a few weeks ago just like that? Then why are all these weeds here now. Seems to be getting the roots really isn't going to stop them, they're weeds for God's sake." Dad: "Just FORGET IT, I'll do it myself". Me: {Okey Dokey Dad-even if I did it your way I'd come out to find you 'redoing' it anyway because IT STILL WOULDN'T BE RIGHT!}

Me: "Call if you need me.....Have fun"

Now my Dad wasn't obsessive about weeds, or the lawn or loading the dishwasher. But he could be obsessive about EXACTLY HOW TO do those things. Always with a explanation of the history of weeds, lawns or dishwashers, exactly how the weeds, lawns, or dishwasher grew or operated and why based on that information it was vital to do it his way. Me: "I still don't see why its not just as good to yank them out?"

This same scenario had been played out since FOREVER. With me, my mother, my brother, his sailors when he was in the Navy, with students he subbed for at the local High School the last 20 years, his mother and siblings and the rest of the world.

But over the years as his health had declined I noticed the stool, tiny shovel, paring knife and bucket hadn't been sitting on the bricks, but the Round Up had appeared. Stored in the Little House next to the stool, tiny shovel, paring knife and bucket. {Dad: Leave them right there, I'll need them later}.

So still grieving for my Dad, as everything I did reminded me of him, I was ready with the new bottle of Round Up I'd mixed. Quick Draw McGraw Weed Warrior......I pulled the handle back, held it for a mo' and pulled the trigger...........pulled the trigger..........BUGGER! It worked fine yesterday.

As would and has happened thousands of times since I lost my Dad I found myself with a dilemma. But this was the first time I was mentally confronting Dad's Way vs Mom's Way. Dad's Way=Fix it, no matter how cheap to replace rather than buy what might be needed for repair.  Mom's Way=Go buy a new...sprayer or another Round up with sprayer, call a landscape company. But I sat and starred at this cheap plastic piece of broken sh** thinking HM BET I CAN FIX THAT! And thanking 'whoever' that my Mom wasn't up at the house standing at the kitchen door saying her things to me at that moment.

So I pried the sprayer apart and looked it over. Tubes, a spring, the actual piece between the tube and the nozzle, cap and tube into the container. I took it apart watching as the spring went airborne. Fetched the spring back. I tapped the nozzle and put a piece of wire into the front in case it was clogged. I saw no blockage in the tube. So I put it back together, stood up, pulled the handle back and it wouldn't stay. CRAP.

In my head my Dad is saying, 'We can fix it'. In my imagination my Mom standing at the storm door saying 'Just go buy one'. So this time I took the sprayer off the bottle and took it into the kitchen by the sink. I took it apart again careful to capture the spring. I removed the tube from the back end of the nozzle and blew into it to see if I could dislodge anything clogging it.

Oh, I learned a very important lesson at this point. ROUND UP TASTES TERRIBLE. Just blowing on the end of the tube I could taste it for the next hour.

 I took the tube and put it under the faucet and ran water through it and heard something dislodge. Hot Damn! In my head I heard my Dad say, "that's good but check the nozzle just in case also. No need to have to pull it apart again". I ran the water over the nozzle and cleaned it up.

I put it together tapping it closed even though plastic easily would come apart with little effort. I walked the sprayer and cap back out to the porch. Put the tube from the cap into the bottle and screwed the cap on tight. I pulled the handle back, held it for a few seconds, pointed the nozzle at a weed and pulled the trigger. TAKE THAT WEED!

I felt my Dad watching. Nodding his approval. I heard "Knew you could fix it". And cried while I finished spraying the bricks.

Hm, where should I start?

Where ever I want really:):). The explanation of this journey isn't formed in cement. And I don't write out of anger, fear or frustration. That is not what this is about. Ultimately and at the center is always Alzheimer's. Only because that is where it ended for my Dad.

But my Dad was, as we all are, undefinable. My Dad was good and bad. Rigid and flexible. Happy and Sad. He was a collection of experiences, triumphs, successes, failures, humor, unfailing support for not only his family but for complete strangers. He was funny, devious, energetic, intelligent, obstinate, single minded and In Charge. He cared. He was extremely successful despite his challenges but he was insecure and easily embarrassed by praise.

 And he was Selfish. Selfish? Well, in a way that is how I can best describe him, but to understand that would mean you need to know how I define Selfish.

There are 2 types of Selfish, GOOD Selfish and BAD Selfish. Bad Selfish is the type where the ultimate goal is plainly and simply, personal gain. I help someone not because they need help but because I LOOK BETTER WHEN I HELP SOMEONE. If I didn't personally gain from the effort~I wouldn't help.

Then there is GOOD Selfish. I help because the person needs help and its the right thing to do. But I still gain personally. Because the act of helping makes ME feel good.

The word 'SELFISH' has been taught to mean bad or negative. But in reality humans are simply born with a Selfish Gene. Nature or Nurture? It is the way we are taught, examples we are shown or from our experiences which grows that Gene into Good or Bad Selfish. People who are Good Selfish still engage in Bad Selfish. And People who are Bad Selfish can still act in a Good Selfish manner. But the odds are that each type of person will most frequently act on one side or another of Selfish in a consistent way.

My Dad.......Good Selfish. He was a GOOD man who was also an aggravating man, a giving man, a loving man and a rigid man. But he acted from the good selfish, to help others. So in honor of my father this blog will be written from the Good Selfish perspective. And not necessarily from grief or anger but from hope and humor.