A Visit to Fireside Place, Part 4: Floyd

 Mom and I arrived at one of our favorite eating places, The Seafood Inn. It was one of those chain restaurants that all look and smell the same, but I had coupons and that would be my contribution to the meal. We went to the designated table and Carolyn was waiting for us. It was a table for five and there were only three of us left since Ann and Maria couldn’t make it. So we scooted to a booth instead. It was a more intimate a setting.

After we ordered our meals, I asked Carolyn how Lloyd, her husband, was doing.

She smiled broadly. “Fine, and thank you for asking but he now has some sort of blood disorder. His platelets are clogging too much. They’re giving him a biopsy.”

"That’s too bad. I hope they find out what’s wrong.” I responded in concern.

We ordered from the menu and I got the alfredo pasta with crab strips. Of course, Mom ordered the same thing – she always does. As we waited, she ate every one of the lemon slices in our water glasses which we readily shared with her.

Then, the waiter arrived and loaded us with the special cheddar cheese biscuits which we all liked a lot. I lead us in a quick prayer after they arrived and we took one each. The main dishes arrived next and we starting eating them, too.

“So what really happened a few months ago to Floyd?  I know he had a stroke but what caused it?” I asked.

Carolyn sighed. “One, it’s his diabetes and he also has lymphedema.”

“That’s the same thing that Ann has.

 “Exactly. And he was already in the hospital with swollen legs when he had his stroke and probably wouldn’t have been alive now if he hadn’t been right there already.”

 “It’s a miracle really.
           
 “Yes it is.”

  “And the cause behind that was?” I wolfed down another dollop of alfredo pasta.

 “Basically, he ate himself to the brink of death."

  I paused a minute to absorb this. “And how old is he?”

  “Fifty-seven."

Only a little older than me, I thought. My fork halted in midair before it hit my mouth. How sad. We can do so much damage to ourselves during our brief lives if we choose.

"Waiter, I need a box!” I shouted as he breezed by.

 I halved my portion and saved it for another meal.. We ate the rest of the time in

silence and then I told her I would make her a friend on Facebook. It was fitting. I had known Carolyn for untold years. A friend of Mom’s was basically a friend of mine.

 I gave her a hug and told her I would be praying for her and Floyd. I could see the tears glistening in her eyes and feel her stress. Somehow, she relaxed from her burden just a little in that moment.

Then, Mom and I rushed back to the house and I got ready to leave. Another month, another visit to Fireside Place and I was tired as a dog. It was dark by now. We expressed our good-byes and I headed out into the night. Everything was okay for now until tomorrow.

The next day she called and told me she fell. And a week later, she fell again. Hurt her shoulder. And the dog pooped all over her carpet. But that’s a story for next time…

A Visit to Fireside Place-Part 3: The Detour

“Where are you going?” Mom asked as we headed to Aloma Avenue to get gas before we went to the nursing home. We had just finished shopping earlier and had put away all the groceries before we left.

“I’m taking a little detour down memory lane.” I said.

“What?” she asked again.

“My high school, Mom. Oh, here it is.”

I stopped in front of Winter Park High and looked at the old brick building that I remembered as new. I glanced at the oak trees that I remembered as small saplings that now towered overhead. There was still a flagpole in front of the not-so-impressive façade. I was looking at holy ground.

So what’s so special about it? A lot of my memories of it have faded. There is really not much left to recall. But one main even stands out. The day I got saved I still remember in every detail.

“Do you know the Four Spiritual Laws?” asked a girl as she approached me that day as I stood out front on the sidewalk. I was a lonely adolescent who had few friends. I read a lot and made good grades but there was a terrible aching in my heart for love, companionship and acceptance. I guess I was a gullible victim for the Gospel and I am glad God set it up that way.

When I accepted Christ as my personal Savior that day, his love and joy filled my soul. I felt totally new and it was a great feeling. Believe it or not, it was over 40 years ago and still is just as fresh in my mind as on that first day of my Christian walk. It was the wonderful thought that God loved me and had a wonderful plan for my life.

My life sometimes doesn’t feel so wonderful. I have trials and troubles and some days are almost unbearable. But with Jesus, my Savior, at my side, what a difference it has made! Now, many more people have been loved by me and had transformed lives because of that one day back in 1971 when my life was changed.

“Never despise the day of small beginnings.” Of all things that happened to me before or since nothing has ever compared. It was my A.D. moment. It was my first year of Our Lord and it has been exciting ever since.

 “We gotta go!” Mom exclaimed. “We have to get to the nursing home soon to pick upAnn and then on to the restaurant."

I snapped back to the present.

I drove a few blocks to the nursing home then and visited with Ann, mom’s friend of over 50 years. She told us she didn’t feel like going out to eat. Her legs looked more swollen than ever, so it was probably a wise decision.

We gave her a hug and said good-bye.

“Don’t be sad!” She replied. “I’m going home in a few days. Then the swelling will go down. I believe it." Her faith and determination reflected in her strong brown eyes.

“We’ll be praying for you.” I replied.

And then it was on the seafood restaurant to meet Carol, another long-time friend and hear about her husband Lloyd’s current update.

A Visit to Fireside Place: Part 2: Lunch with Mom

On my arrival, as I walk through the door of the 1^st floor condo, I see Jean, her home health aide, vacuuming.

            “Hi, Jean!” I exclaim. “Where is Mom?”

            “She’s in the shower,” she says without looking at me or smiling.

            “Is anything wrong?” I asked.

            Jean looked at me and frowned. “Yes! My mother is dying of cancer and so is my brother.”

            “That’s terrible!” I exclaimed in empathy. We discussed this for a few minutes as she finished and started preparing our lunches.

            “Jean, Oh, Jean!” Mom yelled from the bathroom. Jean dropped everything to help my mom, who was in her eighties now, get dressed.

            I followed right behind her and peeked over her shoulder. “Hi, Mom!” I shouted.

            “Hi, Laura!” she responded back. “You had a safe trip?”

            “Yes and the weather is perfect out there.”

            Jean came back out and finished preparing our lunches of tossed salad and fried tilapia. I picked them up from the counter and brought them to her dining room table.

            We hadn’t taken but a few bites of our meal when I noticed Jean had disappeared.

            “Jean!” Mom yelled. “You can dust the coffee table, the end tables and the bedroom window sill. You know?” She snapped and her voice lowered, “the sills have never been dusted in one whole year. One whole year.”

            “Really? That’s bad.” I responded.

            “Yes, ma’am!” we heard from Jean has who hurried to finish her work so she could leave early.

            “I like her,” Mom continued, “but you have to tell her to do everything. She has no self-initiative, you know? She doesn’t put away the pots or pans, either. Then she always wants to leave early and get paid for the full time.”

            “Yeah, I see. She said her mom and brother are dying from cancer. At least, that’s her excuse.” I said as I crunched on the big bowl of salad. “Why don’t you tell the agency about it?”

            “I will, but I’ve been so busy, what with my friend, Dr. Sarah, staying with me for a whole month and all.”

            “That was too long a visit, Mom! You should’ve just told her to stay only two weeks.”

            “No, I couldn’t do that to a friend.”

            A determined look came over her aged face.

            “But, Mom, sometimes friends stay too long.”

            She said nothing more but we ate a few minutes in silence. I noticed she had three prominent pictures of my younger brother, Frank, on the wall. One had him smiling with his First Holy Communion outfit on looking almost like a priest, smiling down on us. The rest were when he was little, too.

            “She always did favor him more.” I thought to myself but I kept my musings to myself.

            Jean left about an hour early and Mom explained she wouldn’t be paid for the hour she didn’t work.

             We finished our meal and I cleaned the plates off the table and finished putting away the pots and pans.

            “Are you ready to go shopping?”

            “Yes! Yes! Let’s go! Where’s the list?”

            “Right here,” I responded and tucked it into my pocket. “You want your sweater?” I asked her.

            “No, I’m good. I don’t need a sweater.” She got up from the table and plopped down in her lounge chair.

            Suddenly, the cocker spaniel started barking loudly. “Oh, Roxy has to go out before we go!”

            I said I would do it and grabbed          the leash. I went outside with her and she tugged hard on it as we tramped down the sidewalk. I noticed all the azaleas were blooming early this year due to our mild weather. The neighborhood of condos and townhouses was quiet this early Tuesday afternoon. However, you could hear the laughing and playing of the children in the daycare.

            I forgot the pooper-scooper and ran back to get it. I had to remember the exact spot where the dog went. It broke when I was using it and I guess we’ll have to buy a new one today if we could find one.  I tried to patch up the old one with masking tape.

            So we got ready to go and I took my car instead of her Cadillac. It’s too hard to back out of her narrow one-car garage.

            But I took a detour first…