A Series of Adjustments

 

Time chips away everything.

It takes an extraordinary man to deal with those chips and nicks in a courageous and kind way.

Such a man was my father.

Born in 1922, he, like many from that time, grew up on the family farm.

He was hard-working, doing his share of the family farm chores, and he was very intelligent, a superb student.  He had dreams of earning a degree and moving off the farm.

When it came time for college, he found it interrupted due to the decline of his father's health, and he was the only one able to keep the large family farm going.  This made it difficult to get the graduate degree he longed for.

So, rather than quit or get angry, he adjusted. It took him ten years to get through his four-year degree, but he never gave up.

He became a math teacher, one of the best in the state.  His theories on team teaching inspired the construction of an entire high school, one he would work at and eventually became Principal.

His time as Principal was long and successful, and he was well-loved by parents and students.  He insisted that his administrative staff keep their hands in the game and teach one class a day.  Quite unusual then, still rare today.

Even for the best of us, work-life can be difficult, and eventually, when it was time for him to be considered for Superintendent, they instead picked an outsider who had a doctorate degree (my Dad did not have one).  Immediately the Superintendent focused on my Dad as a rival and promoted him to Assistant Superintendent in charge of Purchases.  It was a position from which the Superintendent could better watch and control my father.

Consequently, my Dad, who probably thought he would work in education forever, retired in his early sixties. 

But he did not get bitter.  He pursued other dreams.  He took up real estate sales, and he and Mom bought a lake house where my Dad could go fishing.  He adjusted.

Later, this strong man, who was doing outdoor work and making things into his 70s and 80s, developed back trouble.  This was compounded by a fall from a ladder.

Yet, he did not despair.  As the lake house got too difficult to keep up with, my parents moved to a condo in East Lansing.  He continued to fill his life with what hobbies and joys he could, including enjoying his grandchildren. He adjusted.

As time went on, even the condo became too much.  Both my parents were becoming limited in their driving, and he could no longer go down the stairs to the condo basement.  

They moved to a nearby Independent Village.  They participated in the social life there and enjoyed communal meals with others.  He adjusted with grace and kindness.

His mobility became more and more limited.  At first, he needed a walker.  Then a wheelchair.  And then a mobile wheelchair.

Every step of the way, he adjusted.  

He started to have serious esophagus problems, and he had to slowly give up his most beloved foods.

He took up things he never did much before.  He watched more television, using Netflix discs to watch beloved old series, like Matlock.  He took up reading westerns. He loved visits from my family and me, and he adored Alison. I think he finally stopped worrying about me when Alison came into our lives.

He had to have more and more help from nurses and hospices.

Those who helped him always agreed  - he was unfailingly kind and polite and had a great sense of humor.

My father took his last downward turn in September 2013, passing at age 91.

At 66, I'm still pretty well off, but I know I am not what I was.  Whether it is one year or thirty years before I have to make the adjustments my Father did, I pray that I can face them with the same courage and kindness as was demonstrated by his love, strength, and spirit.