Mary McAdams

My dad doesn’t drive anymore, but that’s a good thing. Dad is 87 years old and has been forgetting things for a few years. Us kids have known that it was time for him to give up his keys. But let me tell you folks, you don’t just ”take” the car keys away from your aging parent.

I don’t live at home anymore. I moved away. It’s my siblings who’ve stayed who do the heavy lifting. They deal with the daily dilemmas that arise from dad’s declining health, his forgetfulness and his anger at what age has taken from him. I told them one by one that I thought we needed to take dad’s car keys away. They knew and agreed, but hey, we’re all still a little afraid of our dad. He was a formidable presence growing up. Discipline was his middle name. “Spare the rod, spoil the child” stuff. No one was spoiled.

I decided about 3 years ago that this situation called for a good cop, bad cop approach. I was gonna be the bad cop. It seemed only fair. Yes, dad had a ”right” to drive, but I feel that one loses that right when you’re not on top of your game behind the wheel; the rights of the public supersede an individual’s right when it comes to safety. I didn’t deal with the day-to-day of dad’s care and if someone needed to confront him, I would do it. All the kids were already talking to him about it, but I was going to push it.

I thought my dad should stop driving, and I told him so. In fact, I told him every chance I got. I knew my sibs could do it only with kid gloves (see remarks on discipline, above) so I began calling him every week. I started the conversation exactly the same way each time, “Hi Dad. Are you still driving?” He responded, “Hell yes” or “What do you mean? Of course I am. I’m fine to drive, Mary Kay.” I told him point blank that I did not think he was ”fine to drive.” I said that he had a stellar driving record and that’s the way he should go out. I asked him to think about how he would feel if he caused an accident and injured (or worse) a young mother and her children. I didn’t beat around the bush. He put forth his argument and we agreed not to agree. We did this every week. I always ended by asking him to “just consider it.”

You take away a man’s keys and you take away his mobility, and really so much more than that. It’s a milestone, and not a good one. How will he get groceries? I called the cab company in town and got the details. But try convincing a man who owned a Ford Model T that he can just “take a cab.” My dad has probably never taken a cab in his whole life.

I was home this year for Thanksgiving to see Dad and my sisters and brothers. They sold dad’s car last month. I’m not sure he remembers the details of the sale. All the better. The streets in my hometown are safer tonight, folks. I thank my sibs for doing the thankless work of prying those keys out of his hands and getting that car gone. It’s not work for the faint of heart.

I hope you all get a chance to go through this with your parents. It will mean they lived to be a ripe old age. A good friend of mine lost his father suddenly and unexpectedly last month. This is the first Thanksgiving without his dad. And another friend last year, this is his second Thanksgiving with out his dad. I’ve read his Face book posts; two years out ain’t a picnic, he’s still grieving. Another good friend never met his father–although he was alive, his father never attempted to make contact with him. If these friends knew about my dad and his driving dilemma, I’m sure they envy me in my position of parenting an aging parent. No credit goes to me; it’s my sibs who do the daily work.

We went to say goodbye to dad this morning before we headed back to Iowa. It was 9:30 a.m. and he was just waking up. This man who awoke before 5 am to a hard days work every day of his adult life. He was a little ”foggy” and misremembered, thinking I was on my way back to Missouri, not Iowa, but that’s okay, that’s close. My husband asked him if he “had any big plans for the upcoming week?” and Dad responded, “Hell, no, I’m 87……what do you want? Chimes?!”

Dad after getting out of the Navy

Not the Model T, but another of his cars

With his favorite kid, (and 3 of the other kids too)

A Thankful Thanksgiving 2010, no chimes.

Just a quick note to say what a good time I had up at Big Top Chautauqua in August.  I got to spend time with my bro and listen to so much good music.  We stayed at a place right on the lake.  Pretty sweet.  My brother and I got to hear Eliza Gilkyson in the round with JohnSmith, Cheryl Wheeler and John Gorka.  Afterwards my brother went and bought all three of her CDs and she signed them for him.  This is when he asked her to marry him…. I said, “Jim, you can’t do that…”   I think he said something like, “Like Hell I can’t.  I just did”.  We’re Irish.  And we’re from Wisconsin.  We do stuff  like that.  Eliza Gilkyson, she was almost my sister in law.

Mary and Eliza Gilkyson

I’m in denial – I’m not denying that.  It happens every year.  A part of me is denying that winter is really on its way.  I used to love winter, and I don’t just mean when I was a kid.  I’ve loved winter as an adult.  You see, I used to cross-country ski.  From the time I was in high school until I had kids, and that’s 15 years, I XC skied every chance I got.  I had friends and family who also loved XC skiing so someone was always ready to go.

We would go out for an hour or the whole day and ski in all sorts of weather.  We ate a packed lunch outside on the trails and took in the white, the blue, the shadows and the quiet.  It’s so quiet in the deep Wisconsin woods on a Sunday in February.  We skied groomed or ungroomed trails.  Groomed trails are nice but they can be crowded.  Skiers in groups, jibba jabba, jibba jabba.  If you wanted complete solitude, like my husband did, (boyfriend at the time, he was perhaps testing my mettle), you found the ungroomed trails.

He was always faster than me so he would ski on ahead, burn some energy and double back and re-ski the trail with me at my pace.  That way we were together and alone.  He’s always been a long distance runner so he could be three-quarter of a mile ahead of me, but sounds carries so well in the quiet woods that even at that distance, it was like we could still hear each other.  Whoosh, whoooosh.

He never got too far away because he had the pack with the lunch and the whiskey.  Pack light but pack a punch.  Those were the days.  We both still have our equipment in the basement.  Probably would need new boots but the skis would just need a quick refurb at an outfitters.  Every year I think I’m going to get back out there.  We’ve got more time now.  The kids are older.  It’s a heady peaceful in the woods no matter what time of year it is, but especially in the winter.  Just you, the cold, those crazy jumping bugs on top of the snow, the shadows and the deep quiet.

And the whiskey.

July Blog….

July Blog….

I’m doing one of my favorite things in the world–sitting outside on my deck with my coffee in the early morning, while the kids and most of the rest of the street are still asleep.  It’s been a crazy tropical summer here in Des Moines, but the weather broke yesterday to low temps and low humidity.

I don’t feel totally alone out here on the deck though.  The giant pumpkins we planted are about to grow straight into the house.  We planted seeds right below the deck and the monster vines crawl their way up my clematis arbor and assault the deck; chaise lounge be damned.  I love them.  I hand over my deck to them each summer in recognition of their elephantine genetics.  Let’s hear it for indeterminate growth.

I love green.  That’s the problem.  I’m Irish.  Everyone knows an Irish mom paints everything green.  These will be the giant variety pumpkins, if they make it.  We’ve made it past the dreaded Squash Vine Borer threat and now it’s just even moisture, even moisture, even moisture … right up to Halloween.  We’re walkin’ a tenuous tightrope now.  We could be disappointed on any given morning and find them wilted and gone.  That’s the part I don’t like.  When that happens, it’s a scratch of the head and an autopsy of the soil.  We think we’ve got these beasts figured out, but you can never get too cocky.  I’ll keep ya posted.

July found me back in Utah.  I was lucky to be chosen as a finalist in the 14^th Annual Susanne Millsaps Songwriting Showcase at the Snowbird Mountain Music Festival.  I won Second Place!  What a great festival and what great people; I had a blast.  The talent was astounding and I was honored to be included.  If you ever have a chance to attend this festival, don’t hesitate.  I took the gondola up to the top of the mountain with Steve Seskin, RJ Cowdry and Rebecca Eaton.  Amazing.  Rebecca lives and skis there so she gave us a guided tour of the top.  Seriously, can you doubt the hand of some other worldly force when you’re up on those mountains?  I ain’t sayin’ I know what it is…but it’s not of this world.  I can’t wait to take my kids to the top of that mountain next year.  I think we’ll take the trail and walk down.  Really, there are no word to describe how beautiful it was up there.  It brought tears to my eyes to see it.  (I know, I’m suppose to be the writer, I should have the words…).  Suffice it to say that Snowbird, Utah is one of the most breathtakingly beautiful places I’ve ever been.  Mountains, huge blue skies, vistas that speak to the hand of God, clean air, friendly people and appreciative audiences.  All a girl singer could ask for.  I stayed at The Cliff, part of the Snowbird Resorts.  Beautiful rooms and great restaurants.  If you go, try to stay there.

Thank you, Snowbird Mountain Music Festival!  Let’s meet up again next summer for another go ‘round, shall we?

June Blog

So I’m back home in Madison, WI. My childhood home anyway. I guess that’s what I should call it, now that Des Moines is finally starting to feel like home. I scheduled this trip to coincide with my brother coming in from the far NW corner of Montana. These days I mostly come home to Madison to see my Dad. Dad is 87. Dad would tell you “the wheels are falling off” and “don’t ever get old”. He’s said this at least 100 times to me. We took him out to lunches and dinners and always went to his favorite restaurant, “Sir Hobo’s” (that’s not a typo). It’s comfort food and it’s familiar to him. That is important when you’re 87. He knows how far the drive is and how long it takes to get home. We did this for a couple of days. It is eye opening to spend time with an aging parent. My brother drove Dad and me on mini road trips each time we got in the car. I think we may have driven down just about every street in that town. It was fun checking out the old stomping grounds. I’ve been wanting to do this for years but it’s not possible with 2 little girls in the car who couldn’t care less where “Nancy Konicek used to live….”. My brother has been out west since ’76 and I’ve been gone since ’91 and much has changed in the little suburb of Madison that we grew up in. We spent time randomly driving down streets and pointing out houses where friends or teachers or bosses or coaches or boy/girlfriends, etc. used to live. It seemed like we could pick out at least one house on every street, usually more. The houses were so much smaller than I remember.

Late today we said our goodbyes to Dad because my brother and I both fly out early tomorrow morning. Driving back to one of my other brother’s house to spend the night, we decided to swing by the house that we grew up in. Mom and Dad raised 7 kids in (mostly) that old house. We drove the back way to look at the ½ acre back yard and not be gawking and blocking traffic from the main street. I wanted a little bit of time to really look at the old place. We got out of the car, stood there and took in our childhood home from behind. I saw that a tree that Dad and I had planted was now 75 feet tall. I saw the volunteer Sugar maple that looked like it had some potential 35 years ago (so we decided to start mowing around it instead of over it) was now 60 feet tall. We were both pointing at different things when the lady of the house came out to see who the heck was practically in her backyard. We walked over and introduced ourselves. “I grew up here” I said. She must have seen that my eyes were watering just being there because she said, “We’re just about to leave…..but would you like to come have a quick look inside the house…..?”. My brother Richard said “No, that’s okay”. I said, “Yes. Please!” We walked into our former backyard and we told her where the garden used to be and the dog kennel, etc. etc. We walked up to our old garage and I asked if I could look in. She said yes. My instincts found the light and my eyes found Dad’s old tool bench with the piece of wood where we kids had carved our names. Still there. I started to cry. I reached up and found the nook where we had always hidden a house key in case one of us kids got locked out. Still there. I fully expected to find a key still hidden on the secret ledge, but there was no key. We walked to the back porch. I touched the hand carved posts. The posts hadn’t been replaced, they were still there. I had to touch them and run my hands over the familiar gashes and dings put there by 7 wild children; 4 boys and 3 girls, in that order. We walked through the back door. I saw the coat hooks Dad had made. For 9 people. Still there. I looked in the back bathroom. It was exactly the same, even the light fixture over the mirror. I knew this place, every single square inch. I couldn’t hold back the tears. The owners’ seemed nice and I knew it would be a losing battle to try to fight what was coming. I didn’t sob, but I was crying pretty hard. So many memories, some good, some rough. I didn’t know this was going to happen today. We didn’t plan this. This house shows up in my dreams all the time… at least once a week, and here we were, back inside its walls. We walked through the first floor. The rooms were so small. In my memory the rooms are huge; 16 foot ceilings at least. Of course, now I see they were all mostly 9-foot ceilings. We came to the front door and the steps leading to the second floor. It was exactly the way I remembered it from my childhood. For some reason the stairway got me. I was crying at a pretty good clip again. We walked really slowly up the staircase. These were the steps I had run up a million times. Always two steps at a time, always running. In my memory, these stairs are so big and so long and so steep. Now they seemed small.

We went up and saw all of the old bedrooms and the house’s only full bath. First room on the left, this was Jimmy’s room, then it was Stevie’s, then it was Patty’s. We went through and remembered the occupants of each room. With 7 kids and 4 bedrooms, there was always jockeying for the best room according to seniority. I looked in each room and felt my history. So many years in one house. I wanted to stay. I want to go back. But the new owners had said that they were just on their way out….their kids were in the car waiting. We didn’t want to keep them. We thanked them for their kindness. It was outta sight that they had invited us in. A lot of living happened in this old farmhouse. A house that used to be on the edge of town and was now in the middle of it. I’m still processing this unexpected serendipity. If this ever happens to you, take the chance to go through your old home or give the chance to someone else. I’m not sure how or why all of the pieces fell into place to allow this to happen. I’ve been wanting/needing to walk back into that old place for years. I’m thankful that it happened today.

Thank you to everyone who voted! I made it into the Semi-Finals. Now we wait. I’m so ready to play this festival. I lived in the Twin cities for years. I got married up there and we had our daughter there. Good good memories and many good friends are still up there. Pick me Lilith Fair, pick me!!! Me and the boyz (or me solo) would make you proud!

Love,
Mary

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Use THIS LINK. Judge me in the Minneapolis division.

Please please vote for my song Bubbles and help me get to play the Lilith Fair. I am so so ready for this. You can vote as often as you’d like. We only have 10 days left. I’m currently #3 out of 61 songs. I am so ready for this. If you would like detailed directions on how to vote, please email me at mary@marymcadams.com.

It should only take you about 5 minutes, probably less.

Big love and many thanks for your support!

~Mary