Tag Archives: elderly parent

What Are The Odds?

Posted on December 31, 2014 by Tom Laughon

To one who has faith, no explanation is necessary. To one without faith, no explanation is possible. – Thomas Aquinas

Mom, Me and Cake

I must admit, I was down to the wire when it came to writing and posting my last blog for 2014. I knew I wanted to commemorate mom’s 95th birthday which was on Christmas day, and yet I really didn’t have a concept in mind. The only thing I had going on in my head was the image of Father Time trying to hand off his duties to a mere child. I had to work fast!

TICK TICK TICK was reverberating throughout my entire body. How could anyone write a blog with this much pressure and racket going on?

TICK TICK TICK.

TICK TICK TICK.

My goal … beat Father Time before he beats me and the kid takes over. Stop that damn TICK TICK TICK any way I could became my battle cry. So, I came up with what was a bit of a cop out. It would be down and dirty and hopefully somewhat engaging.

I took mom’s age … added it to mine … subtracted the total from 2014 … and came up with the year 1848. Then, I googled “what happened in the USA in 1848”.

The TICK TICK TICK provided the back-beat as I quickly read Wikipedia’s answers.

Before I share, don’t tune out until you read the last one.

TICK: Discovery of gold prompted the California Gold Rush

TICK: Construction began on the Washington Monument

TICK: Gas lights were installed in the US Capital

TICK: Wisconsin was admitted as the 30th U.S. state

TICK: Zachary Taylor was elected President of the United States

TICK: John Quincy Adams, 6th President of the United States from 1825 till 1829 (born 1767), passed away

TICK: The Shaker song Simple Gifts was written by Joseph Brackett in Alfred, Maine

STOP THE CLOCK!

This last entry wouldn’t even connect with most people, but to me, it meant everything.

What are the odds? The very first blog I wrote on May 22nd, 2011 was titled “A Gift to Be Simple” and featured the lyrics from Simple Gifts.

What are the odds? My mom’s and sister’s favorite song was Simple Gifts. They learned it while cutting silhouettes of Shakers (past and present) in Shaker Village, Pleasant Hill Kentucky. They sang the song all the time … it was not only their favorite song, it was their mantra.

What are the odds? On July 30th, 2011, I wrote another blog titled “By Turning, Turning We Come Round Right” … part of the lyrics to, you guessed it, Simple Gifts.

It featured a video of my mom, sister and me singing Simple Gifts. It is one of my greatest treasures, because my sister passed away of Alzheimer’s at only 64 years old in April of 2011.

What are the odds? This was the last video ever taken of my sister.

What started out as a desperate and arbitrary attempt to beat Father Time at his own game had me weeping.

Without warning, time went into rewind mode.

It was Christmas day. Mom was on the receiving end of her cake. It featured two candles … the numbers 9 and 5.  Mom’s 93rd birthday was the last for individual candles … after that year’s experience, we felt any more candles would be a fire hazard, especially in her house that was built in 1796.

What are the odds? Mom has lived to be 95! But, if you ask her, she’ll say she is six, ten or twenty-two.

What are the odds that mom’s two granddaughters (my daughters), her two son-in-laws, six great grandchildren and my wife and I would all be here … on her actual birthday to celebrate with her?

2014-12-26 13.34.52

Happy birthday, Mom!

Fast forward … Happy New Year, everybody!

 

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Leader of the Brand

Posted on November 1, 2014 by Tom Laughon

 

2014-11-01_16.18.15

Although the exact origins of the phrase “to a T” are unknown, and the fact that “T-shirt” is clearly at least 300 years too late, has no connection with the phrase and can’t be taken as a serious contender, our company’s Catch Your Limit T-shirt fits mom to a T.

TIP: If you read the opening sentence out loud, catch your breath before going any further. We don’t want to lose any readers or followers over this one long winded sentence.

My mom is right there at the top of my list of leaders who guided and helped me grow as a leader.

My dad and sister also share top billing in this regard!

What this means is that I won the Leadership Lottery when the stork decided to drop me off where it did.

I landed in the perfect place, with role models who had the courage to keep me, and the determination teach me the ways to of a true leader.

So, if other brands can have icons, celebrity endorsers, spokespersons, etc., I choose mom for Catch Your Limit. I say, when the shirt fits … wear it!

Unlike Betty Crocker, mom is for real.

Unlike a clown we all know, mom has been around and lasted longer than Ronald McDonald.

Unlike Tony the Tiger, mom’s actions speak louder than words. She didn’t just roar a sugarcoated, ‘They’re g-r-r-r-e-a-t!’  … she did whatever it took to lead people, teams and organizations to become g-r-r-r-e-a-t!.

When it comes to leadership, she still serves as the inspiration, the conscience and the guiding light for me and others who have been fortunate enough to have crossed paths with her.

When it comes to catching your limit, mom is the leader of the brand.

 

 

 

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Ooga Booga Boogie

Posted on October 15, 2014 by Tom Laughon

 Three things:

1. To my followers … you have noticed I have not blogged in a while.

Well, I am back in the saddle again, but there have been lots of changes since my last blog that have kept me going everywhere but to my blog.

Mom is doing well!

She has a new “Band of Angels”, full time caregivers, staying at home with her in shifts, and one of them is living there, so I don’t have to leave my home or wife to be with mom at night. The idea of consistently sleeping in our bed at home is like a dream come true.

The “Band of Angels” make sure Mom gets to and from Circle Center Adult Day Care Monday through Saturday … they feed her, dress her, undress her, and spoil her (and me) like you wouldn’t believe. This “Band of Angels” is up for any challenge and are truly a divine blessing for all concerned.  And, shout hallelujah, they get her where she needs to go in their very own chariots of fire, too.

They aren’t Charlie’s Angels … they are Tom’s Angels! They are Melissa’s Angels. They are Mom’s Angels.

Fact is, no matter what you call them, they come when you call … they are simply angels.

Oh, and a dog comes with ’em … they call him Jovi. Mom calls him Woof Woof.

More about Woof Woof (who loves to nip at me and only me} later … if he last that long. Look for the headline, Man Bites Dog, and you’ll know I have had my revenge.

I’ll keep you posted on all the changes going on, but what I know for certain is mom’s still her incredible, joyful self (as you will see in the video that prompted my/our reappearance). That’s what it’s all about, and we are all so grateful.

2. I made mom’s image in this blog look bigger than life on purpose. She is the star of this video and deserves as big a screen as I can give her.

3. To set the stage, I took this video in one take in mom’s backyard a week or so ago.

I know, I know … why didn’t I take it horizontally?

Because I am stupid. I never remember until it’s too late, and in this case, I was not going to mess with this classic video one little bit … so vertical it is.

You can’t get more spontaneous than this … because, with camera rolling … I impulsively asked mom if she knew what Ooga Booga was and the rest is history in the making! You see, there is no Ooga Booga Boogie … no Ooga Booga song of any kind … that is, until now.

There is a Camp Ooga Booga. I should know, because Melissa and I created it. We made it up a long time ago for one selfish reason … it was a reason for Melissa’s and my six grand-kiddos to come and spend an entire week with us each and every summer, without their parents.

Don’t get me wrong, we love their parents (two of them happen to be my daughters), but to have the kiddos to ourselves was the whole idea!

The fact is Camp Ooga Booga has two one week sessions every summer. One session for the three boys. One session for the three girls. And, for the Official Ooga Booga Counselors, Melissa and Tom, two jam packed weeks of summer fun, laughs, adventures, surprises and love … each and every summer.

Camp Ooga Booga is a memory making machine and the memories stacked on top of each other are taller than the sky!

Camp Ooga Booga has morphed into a wonderful, look-forward-to, wouldn’t-miss-it-for-the-world, summer extravaganza for all involved. We have Ooga Booga t-shirts, Ooga Booga cheers and chants, Ooga Booga picture books … all sorts of Ooga Booga icons and stuff, but no Official Ooga Booga song … that is until now.

To kick start the video, I ask mom if she knows what my favorite camp is? I tell her it’s Ooga Booga. She has absolutely no clue what that is, but like a champ, she takes it from there. She is making everything up while I am trying not to make my camera shake from all the laughter that’s taking place inside my entire being. It’s taking all I’ve got, and then some, to keep from laughing out loud and spoiling this impromptu performance of a lifetime.

So, without further ado, how about a big round of applause for this 94 year old little stick of dynamite’s latest, sure-to-be-a-hit, song … ladies and gentlemen … the Ooga Booga Boogie!

PS – Getting up, standing on your chair and wildly flailing your arms to the beat is perfectly acceptable! Do you thing! Do the Ooga Booga Boogie!

Added Bonus https://my91yearoldmom.com/2011/07/08/lessons-from-camp-ooga-booga/

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Shortest and Sweetest

Posted on May 22, 2014 by Tom Laughon

Mom Praying

I once wrote a song that I titled “The Shortest Song”. It went like this:

This is the shortest song,

It won’t take long.

Hold your applause, because, compliments of Mom, I would like to present “The Shortest Sermon”.

But, before I do, a little background might help set the scene.

Mom was a Baptist preacher’s wife… one of the best there ever was.  And one of her greatest achievements was making sure dad wrapped his sermon in time for his large congregation to leave the church at exactly noon in order to “Beat the Presbyterians to cafeteria”.

As a member of the choir, Mom strategically located herself in the choir loft so she would be right behind dad who was right behind his pulpit.

Five minutes or so before noon, those of us in the know would hear mom tap, tap, tap her foot on the back of the choir loft. And, even though dad was hard of hearing, the vibrations penetrated his whole being signaling, “Beat the Presbyterians, Fred … we have to beat the Presbyterians to the cafeteria.”

No matter where dad was in his sermon, he mastered creating a fast close following the tap, tap, tap signal.

Yesterday, on our drive to Circle Center Adult Day Care, Mom was pointing out all of the seasonal changes that were going on.

Mom: “Look at that … those trees are green all over. Look at those flowers … aren’t they beautiful. What do you call this?”

Me: “I call it springtime in Virginia, Mom. It’s springtime in Virginia!”

Mom: “Who made it?”

Me: “God, Mom. God made it.”

Mom: “Oh my goodness … that Man and his Boy up there are working for us all the time!”

That’s it … that last sentence of Mom’s was “The Shortest Sermon” … the shortest and sweetest.

It was so short, we still had time to pass the offering plate.

And, I could have slipped in “The Shortest Song” while parking our “Church on Wheels” smack dab in front of the cafeteria. Yep, even after all these years, we would beat those Presbyterians once again.

I don’t know about you, but this blog is making me hungry. So, let’s end it with “The Shortest Prayer”.

(tap, tap, tap) Amen!

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When the Rolls are Called Up Yonder …

Posted on May 9, 2014 by Tom Laughon

Mom in her Chariot

Me: (Driving mom to Circle Center Adult Daycare) That damn car almost hit us, mom!

Mom: That damn car!

Me: Did you say damn?

Mom: Yes I did.

Me: I am shocked … my mom says damn!

Mom: I say it sometimes. (Pause) A lot of times. I like to say damn.

Me: What else do you like to say?

Mom: Hell. I say hell all the time. Like, oh hell. Or, Helen Bolin.

Me: Helen Bolin?!

Mom: Helen Bolin. She was a good cook. I loved her. My daddy said she was the best cook in the United States of America.

Me: You remember Helen Bolin? She’s been in the land of angels for a long, long time. But, damnit to hell … I remember her, too!

"Henen's" Heavenly Rolls

“Henen’s” Heavenly Rolls

Note: Helen Bolin was the “house maid and cook” for my grandfather from when mom was in her early teens to when I was seven or eight.

I called her “Henen” as a little guy, and I can remember the warmth of her hugs to this day. Oh, and her homemade rolls … they were the best damn rolls in the United States of America.

It’s funny how memory works. I have not heard mom, or anyone for that matter, mention Helen Bolin in ages. But, the second she did, my first thought was, pass the rolls!

I could see them being served in a baking pan, right out of the oven.

I could feel the heat as I grabbed for the biggest roll with both of my hands.

The only way I could describe the smell would be heavenly, and the taste … hot, buttery, golden perfection!

I could hear my voice as a kid say, “Pass me another one of “Henen’s” rolls, please … please … please.”

My brain was filled with thoughts of Helen Bolin … long gone, but at this moment in time, not forgotten.

Hopefully Helen is looking down from on high and accepting my long overdue compliments.

“Henen,” just know that when the rolls are called up yonder, I’ll be there.

That is if swearing within earshot of your ninety-four year old mom doesn’t keep you from entering the pearly gates.

Time will tell.

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Hallelujah!

Posted on April 3, 2014 by Tom Laughon

Spring 2014

Behold, my friends, the spring is come; the earth has gladly received the embraces of the sun, and we shall soon see the results of their love!– Sitting Bull

Early last week it was nothing but chilly and cold … it chilled my body and my soul. I had had it with winter.

But, two days ago, things changed … almost over night … without advanced notice … a sunrise surprise … spring had sprung and was painting splashes of bright colors all over the dark, drab ones with giant brush strokes here there and everwhere.

My hands shot up toward the heavens and I shouted, “Hallelujah, you made it!”

Purple Martin MajestyI was not only cheering for spring’s arrival, but the purple martins had also picked this day to come back home … at least to their home in America.

Purple martins and I stand united in our lack of tolerance for winter. In late fall, they escape in mass to South America, and spend the winter months in the warmth of their second home. Then they fly all the way back here, where they were born, bringing spring with them.

Yep … these little North American citizens fly over 5000 miles each way, each and every year, like clock work. And, here they are, back where they were born, to find a match, and to hatch and raise the next generation.

My mom, dad and sister hoisted five purple martin bird houses up on tall poles in their backyard when they moved back to Richmond, forty plus years ago. That was the same time they planted the daffodils. The one mom is holding sprang up from the roots of those original plants.

As a result of my family’s efforts, Melissa and I will have plenty of daffodils and plenty of purple martins. My guess is, counting the adults and their babies, we’ll have well over a hundred purple martins hanging out and performing their aerial acrobatics for us in mom’s backyard (conveniently located next door to where we live).

My mom’s maiden name is Martin, which we have always said makes the purple Martins and us kin. Birds of a feather stick together!

This will be mom’s 94th spring … and spring has always been her favorite season.

Spring is a time of renewal, restoration, resurrection … it is a time for rejoicing.

Hallelujah, you made it!

 

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Naked Trees, Pet Zebra, Cannibals & More

Posted on March 17, 2014 by Tom Laughon

Driving mom to Circle Center Adult Day Care is the best way I know to kick-start a day.

Talk about a great attitude, no matter if it’s scorching hot, rain, sleet or snow, mom never complains or never says she doesn’t want to go … she just goes.

She is my poster child for a great attitude … and she is funny.

When we ride down the road together there is no way to predict what’s going to happen, other than something will happen. I call her my Happy Day Maker.

On this particular day, it was anything but happy outside. It was ice cold and damp, so I warmed up the car, and somehow that warmed up mom’s motor-mouth as well.

She was pointing out “naked trees”, telling traffic lights to quit changing all the time, asking … Where are all the cars going? Where was I born? Where did I buy our car? Who is my mom? … all this while clapping her hands and singing her old University of Richmond alma mater. She was one happy 94 year old out for a wild ride. She had no idea where she was going, but was having a great time going there.

When mom is on a roll like this (which is pretty much every day), I’ll ask her a question or two just to stir the pot even more.

All I have to do is pose a question like, “Mom, have you ever had God over for supper?” Her answer without hesitation starts with, “Yes, many times …”

“Mom, have you ever had a pet zebra?”

Not only has she, she taught it English, her zebra graduated with her from University of Richmond (insert mom singing her school’s alma mater at the top of her lungs here).

So, today’s question was just another crazy Tom question.

Me: “Mom, have you ever known a cannibal?”

Mom: “A what?”

Me: “A cannibal. You do know what cannibals are, don’t you?”

Mom: “Yes, everybody knows what cannibals are.”

Me: What are they?

Mom: They are people.

Me: “Well, do you know what these people do?”

Mom: “Yes, I know what they do. Everybody knows what they do.”

Me: “What?”

Mom: “They talk to each other.”

Me: “Yes, that’s right, but what else do they do?”

Mom: “They go to school.”

Me: “Yep. What else?”

Mom: “I don’t know what else they do. What do they do?”

Me: “Cannibals eat people, mom. That’s what they do. They eat people.”

Mom was dead silent for four solid blocks. And, that gave me plenty of time to think about how absurd, yet brilliant, my question was. I mean, this was the very first time one of my crazy questions didn’t conjure up an instant reply. It was the very first time I had left my mom speechless.

So, here we were, riding in our car, with nothing but the sound of tires on pavement to keep me company.

Then, out of nowhere it happened. Three words … that was all it took. Three adamantly stated words … “I — EAT — CHICKEN.”

I laughed so hard tears were running down my face. And, just like that, mom resumed her normal, non-stop, happy day making chatter. I’ll never know if mom knew just how perfect her comedic timing was or if she just knew that there was no way she wanted to be mistaken for a cannibal.  One thing is for sure … I have no idea why I asked mom about cannibals but I will remember and recount this morning drive with mom for a long, long time … especially when I — EAT — CHICKEN.

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The Day Hell Froze Over

Posted on January 8, 2014 by Tom Laughon

Cold as Hell!

When a preacher’s wife, who has been on this planet in all kinds of weather for 94 years says, “It’s cold as hell,” it must be as cold as hell.

All of the weather forecasters in Richmond were unanimously proclaiming we had a record low wind chill of minus 10. Not only that, but they were teaching us a new buzz phrase for the day … the polar vortex (play scary music behind this phrase and you get the drift).

Getting past all the highfalutin weather speak and scary background music, I figured out it meant weather of biblical proportions was blowing frigid air from either the North or South Poles or both our way and it was going to freeze the holy crap out of all of us.

I even heard the forecasters throw in the word cyclone for good measure. Does Apocalypse Now come to mind? I don’t know … my mind was too frozen to think.

All I could see while on the verge of hypothermia was a sign from God and it didn’t look promising.

Hell Frozen Over

What kept me going was the fact that I had to go to work and that I had to take mom to Circle Center Adult Daycare Heaven. When I told mom we had to go, she acted like a champ.

She asked if the car was warm and I said, check.

She asked me not to take too long to walk her to the car because she didn’t want to turn into a Popsicle. I thought that was more than reasonable, so I said, check.

Then mom asked me if we could get a Slurp (mom’s word for Slurpee) on the way to Circle Center. That was the last straw. I said, no way … not while hell is freezing over, mom … not on the day hell is freezing over!

With that, we marched double time, arm in arm, to the car … thankful we weren’t turning into ice on a stick.

Note: Arrest Me!

I just noticed the picture I took of mom and I forgot to put her gloves on. Whoops! Now NSA surveillance has me on their radar.

I am doomed.

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Mom’s 94th Christmas and Counting

Posted on December 25, 2013 by Tom Laughon

Birthday Girl

“Christmas is the day that holds all time together.”– Alexander Smith

Mom’s 94th Christmas and Counting:

Counting the Christmas Day mom was born on.

Counting the number of Santa’s knees mom must have sat on.

Counting the number of Santa’s knees she took my sister and me to sit on.

Counting the number of Santa’s knees she took my two daughters to sit on.

Counting the gifts of loving, caring, sharing and giving she has brought to our family and to so many others that there are just too many to count.

Counting the memories and the smiles she magically creates for us all.

For a meaningful, wonderful, joyful Christmas, you can always count on my mom.

My mom, Helen Douglas Martin Laughon, was born on Christmas Day, 1919. I believe the old Timex watch slogan was really made for her … she “takes a licking and keeps on ticking”.

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Mom & Santa

Posted on December 21, 2013 by Tom Laughon

Next to the North Pole and home sweet home in Richmond, Virginia, Circle Center Adult Day Care Services is mom’s favorite place on earth.

And, on this magic day, Santa came all the way from the North Pole to Circle Center just to visit mom.

When he asked her if she had been naughty or nice, Mom’s answer was YES.

She also whispered to Santa that her birthday was on Christmas Day.

He asked her how old she was and she said six.

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