The Old Folks at Home

"The doctor didn't sign the script," the lady at the registration desk said. "And we need a fax number to fax the results."

No idea what's on his head. From the beforetimes

So much for drawing blood before Mr. Ginley's ultrasound last Monday. We were trying to combine trips so that I wouldn't have to have the transport service schlep him more than once.

Oh well.

From there, we went to the radiology department. I went in with him and helped him get on and off the bed. (He tweaked his back, and it was sore for a few days, but it's getting better.) We're still waiting for the test results. I told Mr. that they've put him through so many scans over the past months, I'm thinking this is just to establish a baseline, post-kidney stone, going forward.

Later that same day, Dan came to pay a visit and talk about financial planning and wills and such. He and Mr. had a nice discussion about things, and Mr. was a happy camper. We've always liked Dan (we try not to call him "Danny" these days), who went to school and played baseball with our son. 

The rest of the week passed quietly. We're perfecting our technique for getting Mr. into and out of "The Cloud," his uber-comfortable easy chair. More books and papers have been culled, warranting additional trips to Savers, the library, and Half-Price Books.

It's hard to believe we're halfway through August and kids are getting ready to head back to school. Time is such a weird construct these days. Each day that passes without incident elicits a big sigh at bedtime and a speedy drop off to dreamland (where weird things happen that I can't remember the next morning, thankfully).

And, as Sonny and Cher said, "The Beat Goes On."

"Did you know that they have a place for cats to go to school?" Mr. inquired this morning. 

"It's called "Kittie-garden."

And so it goes.

One Man's Treasure

The other evening as I was taking the barbecue chicken off the grill, I paused as the local church's carillon started up. 

It was playing "All Through the Night," a Welsh hymn that always strikes a chord with me. (Pun semi-unintentional.) I listened to the entire rendition before returning to the kitchen. 

That's what we get in this lifetime, right? Moments. If we're lucky, there are long stretches of peace, but life for us these last months has been hardscrabble, with glimpses of light and joy. 

Mr. Ginley has been reaching for those glimpses by going through books and papers he's saved. I cannot tell you how many pounds of paper have hit the recycling bin. But there are gems, too, in correspondence, articles, ephemera, and even old check registers. 

"This says I loaned you $50," Mr. said the other day. "When are you going to pay me back?" 

"Hey, look at this, I gave Lisa money for tickets to a Rush concert."

"Here's the down payment for the place we stayed at when we went to Cape May in 1987."

Then there are other random articles that evoke memories of their own.

Although the garbage can runneth over, there are still plenty of "keepers." One of those is an old yellow raincoat. It was from Mr.'s days working at J.B. Robinson Jewelers. He used it when he was unloading trucks on the dock. When it was relatively new, the printer, Bruce T., borrowed it and unintentionally christened it with black printer's ink. He offered to buy Mr. new one; instead, it remained at the office. When JBR closed up, it came home with Mr. Now, every time he sees it, it brings back only happy memories.

It's been good for Mr. Ginley to sort through all of this stuff. He's enjoyed it, although there's a certain sadness to letting go of so much of it. Still, it's better to do it now when old treasures are cherished and remembered. Who but he would keep an old raincoat?

The good news is, the shredding has been completed. The bad news is, the office looks like the place was hit by a confetti cannon. Fortunately, that's an easy fix. Nothing a little vacuuming can't take care of. I suppose it's also as good an excuse as any to vacuum the rest of the house. 

Better get to it!

P.S. Special thanks to Paul for fixing the front door for us this week. No more loud bang when guests depart. And to Joe for trucking out yet more boxes of books. It was nice to have you over for breakfast, Pooch!

Shredded

"I want to be a useful engine," said Mr. Ginley. 

It was a reference to the Thomas the Tank Engines books we used to read to our son. In the rail yard, it was Thomas' purpose in life to make himself useful.

"Why not shred that box of documents in the office?" I suggested. This served two purposes: disposing of old documents that had been slated for the shredder years ago and removing one more box to return the office to a usable workspace.

Of course, the shredder is not the industrial kind, so it overheats after a round or two of hard labor. Then you have to rest it for an hour or three. 

During that downtime, Mr. started working on the area in and around the desk. He's had quite a time strolling down memory lane. There have been lots of random slips of paper with notes and quotes. Photographs. Office bibs and bobs (paper clips and such). Our son's school papers and baseball rosters. And hundreds of flash drives. (I do not exaggerate here.)

It's wonderful to be opening up the space, but it's also exhausting for Mr. Ginley. By the end of the day, he's physically knackered but also sagging under the weight of revisiting the past and wondering what the future holds. 

And I'm left wondering how long it will be until we stop trailing little slivers of paper all over the house.

Photo attribution: Андрей Москаленко, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons