News from my brother on his wife who is in Cuba caring for her father who has cancer…

Yesterday, somewhere in Havana, She was walking with her father when they came across a relief effort run by Canadians and Americans. Many of them were doctors from various organizations.

When She told them she could speak English, they invited her to come forward and talk. She had to push her way through the crowd because there were so many people, but the doctors were thrilled that She could translate. 

They asked her father to come to the front, examined him, and gave him a new pair of glasses. They also provided better supplies for his tracheotomy. The tube currently in her father's throat is actually damaging the surrounding skin, and these doctors had silicone inserts designed to protect it. They gave the supplies to her so that her father's doctor can place the silicone piece between the metal and the skin to prevent further damage and keep everything sealed and stable.

Her father also received a quick check‑up. Unfortunately, the cancer he’s facing is still the most serious issue.

Today, they must travel from Havana to Cienfuegos to meet with the doctors there. Under normal circumstances, it’s about a 3.5‑hour drive—roughly 250 km—but with fuel shortages, the trip has become extremely expensive. After the appointment, they will likely have to return to Havana.

On a slightly more forward‑looking note, She finally managed to pay her brother‑in‑law to buy fuel before the gas outage began. The amount he secured is only enough to get her from their home to whichever airport she ends up using. At least that fuel is set aside for when she leaves the country.

Air Transat won’t be flying out of Cuba until April 30, but there are still flights to places like Panama. Now we just need her to get her passport back, and then we can figure out the next steps.

"Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself. I am large, I contain multitudes.”  -Walt Whitman

My mother-in-law was an interesting character. Her sons have been reflecting on her life. She was smart and planned ahead. She could be charming and loved being popular. She was stubborn, feisty and full of life. 

I’ve added and deleted the following half a dozen times. It’s not flattering. Yet it’s there..

She was a terrible parent. She had four husbands and more boyfriends. Her sons remember a chaotic childhood with constant drinking, fighting and moving.

There was a wild trip to Mexico where everyone, kids included, got drunk on margaritas. 

Shortly after that trip, their step-father found work in Texas and moved the family there. After the move, the stepfather said he had to finish a job in California and would rejoin in a few weeks. Instead he abandoned them. He never moved to Texas. He left the family in Texas to fend for themselves.

I can only imagine her heartbreak and anger.

She once danced a man to death. One evening in Texas she went out dancing. She loved to dance. At some point in the evening her dance partner collapsed on her from a heart attack. He passed away. 

My husband shared a story from when he was 16. Their apartment lease was running out. For whatever reason, the job fell to him to find the family a new apartment. He found the apartment. He signed the lease and wrote the deposit check with his mother’s signature. He arranged the move.

My husband’s friends from childhood deeply reflect his need for stability. More than once her sons have commented on the difference between her private and public personalities. Things were always easier with their mother when others were around. This, in part, is one of the reasons they both love hosting large gatherings especially around the holidays. 

In 1990 she moved to Italy to be with someone she met on the Internet. 1990! When that ended, a friend flew her back and helped her get back on her feet. 

At the Senior Living Center, the gathering for my mother-in-law was lovely.  Maybe thirty people showed up. She had many friends. We shared stories. Every one knew she was opinionated, feisty and onery and they loved that about her. She would fight for you if you were struggling and offer her opinions if you weren’t. She always dressed well. She had high standards. She made their lives more interesting. She will be missed. 

My mother-in-law had planned well. In previous years she gifted away most of her sentimentals and valuables. This has simplified cleaning out her apartment. We don’t agonize over who gets what or what must be saved. Aside from a bit of furniture and her bar, everything can be donated or thrown away. While her sons pack, I haul things to a garbage bin or a local donation center.

Her bar and alcohol— Sunday, the senior center where she lived will host a small gathering to honor her. We will bring the alcohol and let the residents take it away with them. 

Of course death happens regularly at her Senior Center— it has hundreds of residents in their elder years. That small gathering to honor my mother-in-law… it’s a standing weekly event. 

More than once while hauling stuff away, someone has asked “Moving in or out?” 

“Moving out.” I answer vaguely.

“Awww. That’s too bad. Who was it?” 

Yesterday the police officer processing my mother-in-laws death said “This was a nice death. This was about as good at it gets. No signs of suffering. She was well cared for.” 

My mother-in-law had a large well stocked bar. The officer and I looked at it and had a good laugh. She was prepared to host many large cocktail parties. So much liquor in many fancy decanters.

Maybe it was an art project. Maybe she liked the look. 

My brother-in-law spent the night over. My husband and he are both extra-early risers. By the time I woke up, they were chatting, reaching out to friends and family and going through the estate. 

I think this will be an easy process. My mother-in-law had prepared for this. The paperwork and passwords were easy to find. My husband and his brother had been listed on her accounts. 

When it rains it pours.

My mother-in-law passed away this morning. 

I was in a work call when I heard a very pained cry from my husband. I excused myself from the call, ran to him and heard the news.

We drove to her place. The paramedics were still there when we arrived. She had been struggling in the morning and called 911. She had stopped breathing by the time the paramedics arrived.

My husband was able to spend Thursday with her. He took her to lunch and later to a medical appointment. He wishes he could have spent more time with her, but is happy the way their day went. 

We are at her place now. We are waiting for the paramedics and police to finish the paperwork.

My husband and his brother have access to her cell and are triangulating her last hours through the text messages. They have also started the unenviable job of collecting and processing her paperwork. 

We are not sure how well my Cuban Sister-In-Law is doing. Internet is very unreliable in Cuba. My brother is lucky if they exchange a few short text messages a day. He wants his wife to return to Canada. We don't know if that is even possible. 

My Sister-in-law's father has late, stage-four cancer. Would she return even if she had the chance? 

My brother knows that they have life-straws-- portable bio-filters for water. They also have been stocking up on food.

I reach out regularly to talk to my brother. His family situation is very heavy. A few weeks ago his wife, who is Cuban, flew to Cuba for a family emergency. She is now effectively trapped there until Cuban/US relations change.

Now they are down to one income and he is struggling to pay the bills.

My brother is kicking his financial problems down the road. He apologized for asking me for money, yet he's not doing anything about that situation. I offered to pay for a good financial counseling or debt reduction program. He didn't seam interested. 

We are back home. I have a bit of a cold and am recovering. 

The Sea Hawks have won the Super Bowl!

When the game ended, there were fire works and loud cheering all around. 

I’m calling my brother regularly. He is progressing slowly. Actually, he is stuck, he is not doing the work of solving his problems. 

My husband and I are in Park City for a few days of snow sports. It's quiet this year. There isn't much snow so there aren't many tourists. We are really enjoying ourselves. Fewer tourists makes it easy for us to get around, go to restaurants or ski on the few hills that are open.

My little brother reached out. He said he was ashamed and afraid to do this and then asked me to loan him $40,000.00.  Due to a series of emergencies, he is way behind on his credit cards and is struggling to make ends meet.

I said a polite 'No.' I didn't feel guilty or awkward doing so. I may have said yes if he had asked for $1000. It was easy to refuse $40,000.

This is the fourth time that I know of that he's needed a large bailout. More than money, he needs some sort of impulse control, or discipline. 

The next night my husband and I spent an hour talking with him, trying to understand what's going on. His reasons are many and varied. Sometimes it was willful ignorance. Sometimes he wanted to be the hero and help someone out. Sometimes it was plain old stupidity. 

My husband suggested that there may be a little mental illness behind this. Such carelessness spanning so many years speaks to deeper problems. 

I'm thinking back to my post on how to deal with those politically radicalized. The same lessons apply though it's difficult for me in this situation. Build the relationship. Listen. Don't rush to fix or advise. My husband is great here-- speaking with empathy to those who have made the same irrational choices again, and again. Don't correct. Don't lecture. Don't shame. The rooms of AA have taught him well. 

I will call my brother regularly and be a friend.

I had dinner with Clem and Bates last night. It's always good to catch up with them. They are excited about our plans to retire and had a few suggestions for things to do, and places to go. 

Their friend R joined us. I've known R for years through these dinners at Clem and Bates. 

R is in his early 70s. He has stage 4 cancer that's being kept in check by drugs. R is certainly cheerful, though the cancer is often on his mind. He spent a lot of time talking to my husband, who just happens to be an expert in R's type of cancer. 

More confirmation that leaving work is the right thing to do. 

And the Seahawks are going to the Super Bowl. Congratulations. It was a good game, very close until the end. 

A friend and I watched the game at a local bar. When the Hawks won there was great buzz, a great positive energy in the room. On the way home, the streets were full of people hooting and high-fiveing each other with more than a few fireworks going off in the neighborhood. 

 No forewarning of this decision with the rationale for it. No mention of the future plans - early retirement? IDK. Roderick

I’d loose you if I wrote down all the waffling and counter planning and agonizing and flip flopping. 

We’ve been mulling over retirement for years, making supporting decisions along the way. A year and a half ago we bought a house without a mortgage in a neighborhood that’s more social, though it had a more inconvenient commute to work.

Financially, for about the past year, we knew we could afford to retire. 

Even then much fear, uncertainty and doubt kept us from pulling the trigger. I am at my peak earning years in an industry that does not appreciate older employees. The decision would be one way. If we made any mistakes, we’d have to pay out of our pockets.

The politics of the current administration don't help either.

There has also been poking and prodding in the direction of retirement. 

My family, many of whom are proud of being frugal (cheap?) like to show off how little they need to live happily. Last summer, an uncle asked point blank “When are you retiring? Your body isn’t getting any younger.” He pointed out how other relatives kept busy through travel, engaging in local politics or other jobs. 

Another friend who retired years ago from the corporate life reminded us that our companies have kept us on a hedonic treadmill of bonuses, promotions and achievements. It’s addictive, but there is life afterwards. We could enjoy life without a career: 

My husband and I discussed many variations of retirement. Perhaps he could retire before me, just in case something went wrong and we needed the money or insurance. We tried a few trips where he vacationed, while I worked. He didn’t enjoy that. He wanted me to be free to join him. 

December— My friend Evan, who is my age, had an emergency surgery to remove an aneurysm. It reminding me to not take my time or health for granted. 

Most recently, there is so much chaos at work that I’ve lost energy and interest. I'd look for another job even if retirement weren't an option.

And so, we pulled the trigger. 

The plans are still open. We are going to travel a bit with my father. I want to spent more time exercising and enjoying the great out doors. After that, things are vague which I'm looking forward to. Because of my job, I've had a cell phone within arms reach, almost 24 hours a day, 7 days a week for over a decade. I want to unplug for a while, not have an stuffed calendar where I have to collaborate with those in timezones all over the world. 

 

Big reorg today at work. The executives who know me are now gone. So, I am more satisfied with my decision to leave. 

In late March I intend to inform the company about my departure. March is when our compensation budget closes and I don't want to allow compensation shenanigans by announcing early. 

I will leave by the end of June. That will give them a few months to find my replacement. 

Social weekend. FL is in town for the week for work and is staying at our place. 

A number of our friends have January birthdays. Saturday we got a large crowd together and went out to  a drag brunch. It was fun. 

My MIL joined us. She is slowing down a lot. A short walk that she could handle a year ago now exhausts her and she must sit down and rest. 

Sunday we went on a long walk around Green Lake with one of my husband's oldest friends. 

My husband and I had a good discussion on how to engage with those on the right. He doesn't agree with my more indirect approach, none the less our discussion was very deep.

My thoughts-- we all have a strong drive to help, to correct, to 'straighten out', those we disagree with. We hope to say "These are the facts... do you see how you are wrong? Now that we agree that you are wrong, you must change. " This approach never ends well. I never see someone change their opinion because of a debate. In fact, the opposite often happens. The people you debate dig in and loose trust for you. 

People regularly ignore the facts. They never ignore their feelings. The Republicans have mastered the art of leading with "Your feelings are right. I will fight for your feelings, even if the fight is irrational." Meanwhile Democrats are so fact based that their positions can't get past the layers of defensive emotion. "My taxes are enormous. Why should I support illegals who don't pay their fair share. Why do you support illegals?" Any rebuttal falls on deaf ears. 

My goal is to build warm and trustworthy relationships, not to correct, even though that is very very difficult.. I want to be a role model for my values. I want to let others see that I value the relationship enough to fight for them, even if the fight is a little irrational. 

I’m back in Seattle—rested and ready for work.

The news lately has been incredibly frustrating. I am literally invested in the future of this country, yet my options are limited. Of course, it would be pure ego to imagine that the fate of the nation hinges on my choices. At best, I can offer gentle influence.

So what can I do? I can vote. I can encourage others to vote as well. I can maintain warm relationships with people who are still on the fence—there are more of them than we often realize. Don't argue with them. Don't try to change their minds. Just listen. A good chunk of this faction feel that Democrats are others. Invite these people in.

I will donate to blue causes in swing races. My own elected officials are thoroughly blue. My contributions should go where they can have the greatest impact.

I also have friends who volunteer for various political efforts. I’ll reach out to see what they’re working on. Sometimes their actions are as much about venting as about achieving concrete results. After all, will an ICE protest in the middle of Seattle actually change anyone’s mind? But, you miss 100% of the shots that you don't take and sitting on my laurels won't help the situation.

This is all very rational. I've been reminded recently that irrational people can else get what I want.

It’s my last evening in the Valley. My father and I went out for dinner to mark the occasion.

For many years I haven’t spent much time alone with him. Before my mother passed, her care ment she was never far from dad. There is also family. Usually someone else is around when I visit, be-it my brothers or relatives.

It was just us for most evenings this week. This was not always easy as the two of us tend to be introverted.

Dad still drives the school bus. He is thinking of quitting as he is 82 and slowing down. His eyes aren’t what they used to be. But he enjoys driving the bus. Quitting would give him more time alone. He’s not looking forward to that. He needs a purpose. He helps others when he can.

He limits his TV time, especially news. He watches two different news shows for no more than an hour a day. 

He also watches Wheel Of Fortune, Family Feud and Jeopardy all at the same time. They are on different stations during the same hour. He flips between them during commercials or the quiet moments. It can be frustrating to watch along.

I like my dad. He is good people. He has chilled out alot since I was a kid. I hope to visit him for many years to come. 

Plus, I think I’ve convinced him to travel out west and visit us this summer. 

The Mystery of the Hardy Boy Mystery Novels

We have had a collection of Hardy Boys Mystery novels for as long as I can remember. They sit on a shelf in my childhood bedroom. I was thinking about rereading them, so I picked up one and paged through it. At the back I came across this  …

Now my brothers and I are trying to figure out where the books originated. It doesn’t seem to be our school library since, to the best of our knowledge, school checkout cards were stamped and type written. Dad doesn’t know. Mom brought the books home some fifty years ago and she has long since passed away. 

My dad’s home is deep in the woods, but that doesn't stop the occasional feral cat from finding its way there. Dad keeps several bird feeders well-stocked, and the abundance of birds inevitably attracts predators.

About two years ago, a small orange tabby appeared. While it spent most of its time hunting mice, it would occasionally turn its attention to the birds. The cat would sit motionless under a feeder for hours. Then, if a bird dared to venture too close, the tabby would launch itself through the air like an uncoiled spring. Dad enjoys watching this drama. The birds know the cat is there; they usually keep their distance. But sometimes– it is a stark reminder of the circle of life.

When the cat first arrived, it was extremely skittish. Dad could watch it through the window. It would bolt the moment he opened the door. He decided to try and tame it. Every day, he put out a bowl of food, first placing it near the bird feeder. Over a period of weeks, he moved the bowl progressively closer to the back door. Eventually, he could stand near the bowl as the cat ate, and finally, he could touch it. It began to trust him, though it would still flee from anyone else.

Dad continued feeding the cat through the fall and winter. It gets brutally cold here, with many nights dipping to zero degrees Fahrenheit, yet the cat survived. It grew fat and fluffy in the autumn and somehow endured the harsh winter nights.

Last summer, the cat vanished for a few weeks only to return with a litter of kittens. In the month that followed, the kittens disappeared one by one, until a single orange tabby remained. This kitten grew large over the summer, becoming fat and fluffy itself by the fall. The two cats would hang around Dad's home, hunting mice and the occasional bird.

Then, just before Christmas, the mother cat vanished again. We hoped for the best but feared the worst. Life in the wild can be unforgiving.

A few days ago, Dad opened the door to a rarely used shed, and there she was. She somehow became trapped in the shed. She had lost a great deal of weight and fur. She was mewing weakly. Yet somehow she had survived for days without food or water in the freezing cold.

Dad immediately gave her kibble and warm water. He built a makeshift den for her near a basement window—a place that was sheltered and warm.

In the following days she recovered. Dad continues to feed her a little extra meat and kibble. With each passing day she seems healthier and more content.

Roderick, blogging is not that hard. Join us! 

Saturday, my husband flew back to Seattle, while I traveled back to the Ottawa Valley. I’m spending another week with my father. This summer, I hope to get him to travel out west. Travel is emotional for him. I can only l speculate what is behind this.

About ten years ago, when mom was early in her dementia, she developed many phobias around travel. So they decided to stop. Mom passed away almost two years ago. Dad is still healthy and mobile, though increasing lonely. A little trip may do him good.