Don’t you love this image? I found it on a friend’s Facebook page. I consider her a good friend even though we have yet to meet in person. We’ve known each other for years. We first met when I was living in Ireland. Now we live much closer but still haven’t managed to get together – only a few miles separate us. Maybe I should pump up the tires on my bicycle and suggest we meet at a halfway point.
Regrets July 12, 2016
I haven’t played my recorders for a couple of years or so. I was just busy with other activities and the time and place where the monthly recorder meetings were held were no longer convenient. But recently I tried playing the recorder again and found that arthritis in my hands made it difficult to play. Alas. Up until now the things associated with aging haven’t really bothered me. But now, trying to play the recorder is painful and it is bothering me to find that I just can’t spread my fingers with enough agility to make playing the recorder possible. I really wanted to attend and play in an up coming one day jazz workshop. In younger days with the bass recorder. 7 or 8 years ago? in my early 70’s
I have a friend of similar vintage whose mother had very bad arthritis in her hands. My friend is taking piano lessons to hopefully ward off similar problems.
Come to think of it, my own mother also had bad arthritis in her hands in later years. She was an avid knitter, as am I. When she moved to Hawaii, knitting was no longer so important in her life. So I don’t know if she could have continued to knit if she had wanted to. Knitting is still important to but I could substitute other fiber activities just as satisfying. After all, my abandonment of weaving has been partially age related and I don’t really miss it – I can still maintain my interest without physically crawling under that big Glimakra loom.
In my previous blog, Genealogy Blog 1, I wrote about my mother’s parents, Grandpa and Grandma Friend. Now I’ll turn to my father’s parents, Grandma Miller and my father’s father, Charles Dana Miller. Technically Charles D. Miller was my Grandfather but he was unknown to me and to my father. My father was born in 1891. His father was in his mid 50’s and died at age 61 in 1898. My father was only 7 years old when his father died.
There was a large age difference between my paternal grandparents. Grandma Miller was born in 1863 and lived into my lifetime. When she was age 32, in 1898, she became a widow with 5 young children, ranging in age from 14 down to 5. The family lived in Newark Ohio.She went to work in a county office and raised the children, on her own I presume. In her later years she lived in Florida during the winter months and with her daughter Myrtle and family in Raleigh North Carolina. This was far away from Boston and New York where we were centered. However I did visit her and Aunt Myrtle in Raleigh when I was 11 years old – Grandma Miller was in her mid 80’s. My older sisters knew her quite well and they and my father could tell me about her when she was younger. My sisters are now aged 88 and 89 and they can still share their memories of her.
Pursuing My Relatives February 9, 2015
This genealogy search is taking me in all sorts of directions and stirring up many remote memories. I feel I should focus my search and try to do one thing at a time. For example, on my father’s side of the family there are many relatives that I only met once or twice long ago. Many first cousins and second cousins.
In real time I am pursuing my peripatetic 89 year old sister. She is having a rough year moving between hospitals, various nursing homes and rehab centers, her own home, and the homes of 2 of her 8 children. For a few days she was in Campton New Hampshire where it was VERY COLD., like other parts of New England. Now she is over in Maine where 2 more feet of snow are forecast. I’m sure New Englanders are wondering when this will ever end. I’m remembering a winter back in the late 1940’s when we had record amounts of snow in Belmont Mass. I loved it. In my mind’s eye I have a picture of my sister sitting on a high snowbank of shovelled snow. She is reading a book and I am about to drop a chunk of snow on her head.
Another Day, Another Doctor January 15, 2015
It seems as if that’s been the pattern of my life for the past few months. Which doctor is it today? A familiar question. The eye doctor re a cataract operation, the hand surgeon doctor re fingers that are a bit out of shape, the hand physiotherapist; and for Ian the bloods doctor for the monthly check-up, and the neurologist and the physiotherapist for difficulty in walking. Which doctor which office? It has become a bit of a blur but all is basically well and we are gradually working through our ailments. Are we ageing? Yes!!
this is the splendid blue splint I had to wear on my right hand for 6 weeks, I could have chosen black or purple so when it became apparent that all was not well with my left hand, purple was the color I chose selfie of the left hand splint I became very adept at doing things with the thumb and first finger of each hand – including knitting. The hand surgeon suggested that the tendons in the knuckles had shifted out of place. This condition might have been developing gradually over a long period of time. I call this ageing. And I think it might have been caused by knitting. Is it arthritis? tendonitis? who’s to say. I’ve now been discharged by the surgeon and the physio and we’ll see how I get on with the splints and various supports and exercises. I’m still knitting, and the cat seems to approve