Update on Dad 11-21-11

Hello, Everyone,

I'm even later than usual today, but I'm glad I was too busy to post until now--I have more information to pass along to you. My update today comes from some reminiscences of Dad's oldest living friend, Elmo (Tom) Flenniken, who has come up with some interesting stories from Dad's and Elmo's early years. My brother John also wrote an email about Dad, and I was able to speak to Dad tonight.

Here's what Elmo wrote:

A very close examination of [Elmo's personal history] fails  to disclose any  information  relating to the  youthful activities of one  Marshall Craig, and his friend,  Elmo (Tom) Flenniken,  back in the ‘20s and ‘30s.  I can, however, relate from  cloudy memories, some of the activities of  those two young, would-be hoodlums.  (Don’t get alarmed.  Neither of us had  any hoodlum thoughts;  maybe a little different.) I  think I told you about the  night  we were (I mean,  Marshall was) driving his dad’s  brand new Dodge to a teen-age party, or dance,  maybe, and came upon an auto wreck, away out in the country.  The driver was bleeding badly and we decided he needed to be taken to the hospital, in town.  So we loaded him into the back seat of  Grandpa Craig’s new Dodge, and took him to town. Frankly, I do not recall whether we went to a party or not, but what happened the next  morning was what  I DO recall.  Grandpa Craig found  a lot of blood on the leather of the Dodge’s  back seat.  Marshall got a good  talking to and  had to clean out bloodstains all morning. His  buddy was safely at  home, 10 or 15 miles to the north, and blithely unaware of any sentences, as such.  Until later. 

Another item Marshall might vaguely recall, was the little acts and plays  he and I  used to dream  up and act out at our [church youth meetings].  That WAS  elating, to say the least. I couldn‘t possibly call up any specific instance, but I do remember the activities acted out before Cora [Dad's mother], and Aunt Doll Craig’s kids, and the elation we derived from our offerings.

 John reported on a visit to Dad for the early Thanksgiving dinner they had at the care center:

Dad, by the way is apparently not eating much any more. They had a family "Thanksgiving" dinner last week that Elaine & I, Martha & Dave & [grandchildren:] Katy, and Lisa & Court went to (Lisa and Court got there late enough Dad had already asked to go back to bed). I was able to talk him into eating 8 or 10 bites of food at the table and then he just completely refused anything else. He drank a glass of punch (and drank from the cup without assistance or danger of spilling). He had very little to say.

At one point he said to me "You're good looking!" I said, "Well, I look like my dad." He put his hand to his heart and leaned back and perhaps muttered "Well!"--much like himself for a moment. I  think that was about all he said other than giving thumbs up in response to a question or holding up his hands in front of his face and saying "No" to another bite. He apparently had severe belly cramps maybe 3 or 4 times during the course of the half hour or so we were there and he was with us. 

Based on what John reported, I was concerned that Dad would not be up for a phone conversation with me, and I planned to keep it very short. But he sounded alert when I phoned. I told him his voice sounded good, and he said, "Yours sounds so good!" When I asked how he was feeling, he told me he was "fine."

I told him I would be at my sister Christie's for Thanksgiving, and he clicked his tongue but then said, "Good, good."

I told him I'd be in Utah in a couple of weeks, so I could see him. He said in a positive voice, "Oh, oh, oh."

Since he was being responsive, I told him a story about Jeffrey. When Jeffrey sees gymnastics on TV, he gets excited, puts his head down and raises one leg in the air, jumps around, spins, and so on. I told Dad that Christine was going to see about getting gymnastic lessons for Jeffrey in January. Dad responded, "It's something else--maybe I can check." I told him Christine would take care of it. (I'm not sure if he misunderstood what I was saying or misheard--my phone's a bit crackly these days or if he was just confused.)


Since we were still talking, I told him that Evelyn (who is eight months old) waves to people now and says, "Ha!"--her way of saying "hi." Dad said, "How old is she?" I repeated that she was eight months old, and I think he must have realized I'd just told him that because he said, "Her parents," so I told him their ages.


As I was getting ready to sign off, I said, "It's good to hear your voice." Dad couldn't understand what I was saying and asked me to repeat it several times. He finally understood and said, "Wonderful to hear your voice." 


I told him I loved him and that Christine and the rest of the family send their love. He responded by saying, "Much love to you and yours!" (So he seemed to be aware I'd just told him of the rest of the family sending their love.)


We said goodbye to each other, and I hung up feeling greatly blessed that I'd been able to still have a conversation with Dad. 

Sorry about the odd spacing--I'm too tired to fix it.


Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. (I'm thankful for my wonderful Dad!)

Update on Dad 11-7-11

Hello, Everyone,

I couldn't get through to the nursing home last night, so I waited until today to call Dad. My update comes from my brother John,  from my sister Martha, and from my conversation with my dad today.

John wrote about their visit Oct. 27:

Dad was very sleepy when we arrived (7:30 or so). His dinner was on a tray table, but he clearly hadn't touched it (and it didn't look like anyone had tried to feed him any of it). We got him to eat a dozen bites, maybe and then he said "No more. No more." He also drank a small glass of milk and a couple of swallows of juice/punch--not sure what it was. At any rate, a few calories. I'm sure the food would have tasted better earlier when it was hot, but he was all burpy and full-seeming in any case. He did not say he was uncomfortable or anything, but he didn't look at all chipper. He may have already been given a sleeping pill, for all we knew.

As far as conversation went, he wasn't very with it. We told him about Michael and Patsy's baby and explained that he now had a great-grandchild [with the last name of] Craig--but it didn't make much of an impression. It was not clear if he knew who we were talking about or knew who we were. At the point when we decided to leave and told him we loved him, he responded in kind; that was as much as he'd said all evening. He waved his hand and clicked his tongue and winked at Elaine--typical non-verbal signals from him.

On the other hand, Elaine said Martha had reported to her that she'd had a really good visit just a few days before. So, the up and down pattern continues. 

Martha told me that on one of her recent visits--maybe the same one Elaine told John about--he was more talkative than usual. On other visits, he's been tired and less talkative. Once recently they visited when he was at lunch. He ate about 3 bites, but then said he had to leave. Once they got him into bed, he was better.

Martha had also heard from Dad's only living brother, Kay, that Dad's youngest sister, Ila, died. (Ila's husband also recently passed away.) Martha thought Dad understood when she told him about Ila's death, but she doubts that he'll remember about it.

When I spoke to Dad today, his voice was not as clear as usual; in fact, sometimes I couldn't tell what he was saying. He said he was doing "amazingly well"--what a cheerful man!

I told him how my eight-month-old granddaughter likes to wave at people now. On Sunday, she was standing in my lap and saw the chorister leading the congregation in a hymn, so she waved back at him. I chuckled and thought Dad wasn't going to respond at all, but be finally chuckled too.

I was disappointed that he didn't remember the little song we used to sing about getting dressed--"I'm Dressing Myself." I tried to tell him about singing it to Jeffrey, and Jeffrey now sings it if I help him get started, "Sockie, sock sock, Dee, da, dee, dee, Peek-a, peek-a, peek-a-boo, That's no way to go to [fill in the blank--"preschool," "church," etc.]."

I didn't try to tell Dad about this, but I also thought of him as I was washing my grandson's hair this week--something he hates. I remembered that Dad used to tell us "Little Bear" stories that he would make up as he washed our hair. I tried to tell Jeffrey one that I vaguely remembered--some of it came back to me--the little bear doesn't want to eat supper, so he runs away up a tree, but finally when it's dark, he comes down and says, "Will somebody please feed me my supper?" That's how I told it, but now I'm wondering if it was about getting his hair washed. Anyway, fun memories and a useful device to keep a squirmy toddler still while I washed his hair!

I told Dad I loved him, and after a paused, he responded, saying he loved me and how good it was to hear from me. I told him I'd come to visit next month, and he at first didn't understand and then said that would be nice. I hope for my sake he'll still around for a visit at Christmas time!

That's all for this week.

Thanks for reading!