Light-fingered Lou

 

LIGHT-FINGERED LOU

Light-fingered Lou, like a moth to the flame
Was drawn to bright colours without any shame,
Her long, long fingers knew the secret of stealth,
Her stored up loot gave her plenty of wealth.

She would spot a bright trinket, she had to have,
She’d stalk that trinket her itch to salve,
Happenstance and her finger went to work,
She left no evidence not even a smirk.

Magic fingers and a smile like an angel,
Taking chances ’cause they seemed to be gainful,
Storing all her treasures in an old steam trunk,
She got the thrill, her victims got the funk.

Light-fingered Lou, Light-fingered Lou,
The people all chanted her name.
Light-fingered Lou, Light-fingered Lou,
She light-fingered her way to fame.

So slick was she she left no evidence
And no evidence is what her victims found;
What they found was an empty pocket or purse
And they’d let loose their lips with a mighty curse.

Light-fingered Lou nearly caught

But one day old Lou she nearly got caught,
Her victim took issue and the two of them fought.
Lou fought one-handed though she fought with dirt
Until an object fell out of her shirt.

That object wasn’t the item that was stolen
And Lou got off though her lip was swollen,
And it slowed her down for the next few days,
’Cause her head was in a bit of a haze.

Light-fingered Lou, Light-fingered Lou,
The people all chanted her name
Light-fingered Lou, Light-fingered Lou,
She light-fingered her way to fame.

Poor old Light-fingered Lou gave herself away.
“I can’t find it, it’s here, it’s gone, it won’t stay.”
And she wandered into her room to her trunk
And began to sort through her treasures and junk.

And there on the bottom lay a photograph
All sepia-toned and tattered and rough.
“Mama,” she cried, “I remember you now.
I promise to be good, I’m starting right now.”

The doctors could never explain why it was
But Lou was true to her word “Just because!”
Theory suggests it was memories she stole
In a desperate attempt to make her life whole.

Light-fingered Lou, Light-fingered Lou,
Her one lasting memory, her vow to her mom
To be good, and to that she was true,
And she lived the rest of her life with aplomb.

CREDIT: http://takingtotheopenroad.com/avoiding-pickpockets-in-europe/#comment-3235

Posted in Alzheimer's, Care Giving, Dementia, Hoarding, Humor, Justice, Love, Memories, Memory | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Trouble with Mercy – Part III

 

Trouble with Mercy – Part III

In Part II of Trouble With Mercy, the prime suspect in the run of thefts in the Mercy Home for Aging Citizens was not, in fact, the culprit. Attention then turned to another resident who was apparently falling ill.

After scouring two rooms for a missing portrait and breaking up a fight, Nurse Moody and student nurses’ aide Ruthie helped one of the combatants to her room. Lou of Room 321 had suddenly doubled over and clutched her stomach. As she had a history of stomach problems, she became prime concern.

When Nurse Moody persuaded Lou to sit down, a rectangular shape formed under her sweater.

“Oh Lou,” Nurse Moody crooned, “Perhaps this is the cause of your discomfort.”

Lou drew away from Nurse Moody’s hand as it reached out.

“It’s okay Lou. Do you want to show me?”

It took some persuading, but Lou pulled a picture frame from under her sweater. Nurse Moody had to plead for a while longer before Lou revealed the image in the frame.

Out of the gold frame smiled the young Lou, her golden locks shining, her perfect white teeth showing in a perfect smile.

“That’s beautiful,” Nurse Moody said. “Where are you going to keep it so it’s safe?”

Lou looked around and hesitated.

Student nurses’ aide Ruthie asked, “How about your hope chest Lou?”

Lou seemed reluctant, but again she gave in to Nurse Moody’s persuasion. She drew out a key that she had suspended on a chain around her neck and unlocked a steamer trunk that sat in the corner of the room.

When she opened the lid, a flood of memories floated out from a sea of treasures and mementos. There were piles of clothing, jewellery, gloves, scarves, and dozens of pictures, in frames and just loose photos. There were dentures and eyeglasses, cups, bits of food and candies, brand new blouses still in their cellophane wrappings and Army and Navy price tickets.

picture for Trouble with Mercy - Part III

Scattered on top and poking up around the sides were Christmas tree balls, ribbons, silver icicle tinsel and “angel’s hair.”

The oohs and ohs from Nurse Moody and Ruthie drew in a passing pair of aides.

“Hey,” one of them exclaimed with excitement, “that’s my scarf.” She pulled it out of the trunk.

The scarf was bright red and white with tassels and the word Freedom was emblazoned on it in a variety of type styles.

Lou snatched it out of her hands. “Mine.”

To prevent another fracas, Nurse Moody shut the scene down. “We’ll deal with all this later.”

Later, Ruthie asked Nurse Moody, “Do you think Lou takes things because she’s attracted to bright colours?”

“Partly, Ruthie, but mostly I think she’s just hoarding memories.”

CREDITS: The hoarder, top picture – https://www.ncl.com/ca/en/travel-blog/things-you-didnt-know-about-cruise
B
ottom picture:  https://pixabay.com/en/dependent-dementia-woman-old-age-63611/

 

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Trouble with Mercy – Part II

 

picture for Trouble with Mercy

 

Trouble with Mercy – Part II

In Part I of Trouble with Mercy, Nurses’ Aide Ruthie thought she had caught a, or the, thief who had been stealing mostly personal belongings from other residents in the Mercy Home for Aging Citizens. We pick up the story as Head Nurse Moody, nurses’ aide Dawn and student aide Ruthie are about to “arrest” the suspected culprit, Nell.

“Please open the door,” Head nurse Moody said, showing her pleading face to the brow, the eye and the tight-lipped mouth of Nell showing through the slightly ajar doorway of Room 320.

Reluctantly and full of suspicion, Nell opened the door and Nurse Moody, nurses’ aide Dawn, and student nurses’ aide Ruthie entered the room. They scanned everything, but all seemed to be in order.

Just then Jean from Room 319 barged in and aggressively examined everything in sight.

“What are you looking for?” Nurse Moody asked.

“My picture. She stole my picture. I saw her. I saw her coming out of my room.”

Jean lunged at Nell as Nell shouted, “My picture.” The two women scratched at each other, both screaming that the picture was hers. Nurse Moody stepped between them. “Let’s have a look, shall we?”

They scoured the room, but found nothing.

Well,” said Nurse Moody, perhaps the picture has been returned. Shall we take a look? Just to be sure.”

Nurse Moody guided Jean back to her room; Dawn ushered Nell along, and Lou “herded” them from behind with Ruthie bringing up the tail. They looked everywhere possible in Jean’s room, which didn’t take long. Room 319 was neat-as-a-pin perfect. They did not find a portrait.

“It was there,” Jean insisted, pointing to the bedside table unit. It was not. Everybody looked around the room again. Once they had scoured all surfaces and drawers for a second time, they decided to let it go for the moment.

But Ruthie, ever keen, opened the closet door and rummaged through all of its areas. “Aha!” she exclaimed, pulling a framed picture from under a pile of dirty clothing on the bottom shelf.

They were interrupted at that point when Lou, of Room 321, stepped into the room. “Did you find my portrait?” she asked. “Somebody stole my portrait.”

Ruthie held up the picture.

All three residents said, “That’s mine.”

And that’s the trouble with Mercy

In fact, it was a young Hollywood starlet from the 1940s. It had been on display in one of the hallway alcoves.

Lou became agitated. Her face twitched and she clutched her stomach with both arms.

“Are you all right Lou?” Ruthie asked.

“Leave me alone. I just want my portrait back.”

“Okay,” said Nurse Moody. “Let’s get you back into your room Lou. Dawn, take Jean and Nell to the concert area. They’re having music there in a few minutes. You love the music don’t you Nell?”

Nell nodded. Jean said, “I love the music.”

Having established peace for the moment, Nurse Moody led Lou toward her room. “Well! Glory be. They listened to me.”

“Don’t they always?” Ruthie asked.

“Oh yes. But certain circumstances. Hot heads. Now, Lou, lets check your tummy, shall we? Are you having pain there?”

Lou gave Nurse Moody that defensive, startled look that speaks of guilt. They danced around the situation for a while. Then Nurse Moody persuaded Lou to sit down. When she did, a rectangular object took shape under her sweater.

— —

To be concluded.

CREDIT: CC0 Public Domain. Free for commercial use . No attribution required 

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Trouble with Mercy

 

Trouble with Mercy

PART I

Things kept going missing at the Mercy Home for Aging Citizens, or M-Hac as the citizens would have it. So there was trouble with Mercy in this no-longer happy home.

Staff, of course, tried to keep an eye out for a thief. But that was difficult because, really, the home was understaffed and over populated. Some residents were sharing space in single rooms.

Citizens reported their eye glasses had gone missing. Even dentures disappeared. One citizen complained that his autobiography had been filtched from his bureau drawer. Items such as scarves, sweaters, and other personal possessions were gone; just gone. Even a painting disappeared off one of the hallway walls, and nobody noticed; until a relative pushing his wife in her wheelchair on a routine trip around the building, spotted a clean square shape on the faded wall beside another painting.

Ultimately, there was a clamour at the nurses’ station. The citizens were demanding action. But the staff refused to call the police. They said “the stuff” must me somewhere inside. But their cursory searches turned up nothing, except a deeper mystery.

However, a sharp-eyed student aide spotted something. Nell, a tall, willowy resident from Room 320 took herself apart from the noisy mob, which refused to obey the senior nurses’ aides. Nell quietly mosied down the hallway and slipped into Room 319. The student, Ruthie, tiptoed quickly down the hall.

Nell popped out of 319 just as she Ruthie arrived at the water fountain nearby. Ruthie ducked and hit the fountain lever. She slurped the water noisily. Nell took a quick look and scampered into her own room. She was carrying something, which she shielded from Ruthie’s view.

Ruthie, as nonchalantly as she could, sauntered toward Nell’s room. The door closed before she could catch a peak inside.

Ruthie returned to the nurses’ station, where the fray was raggedly dispersing. She snagged Dawn, one of the senior aides.

“I think I may have found your thief,” she said.

Dawn signalled the nurse and the trio walked down the hallway to Roonm 320. Nurse knocked on the door and called out, “Nell. Nell, may we come in?”

There was what is known as a pregnant pause. Then, slowly, the door opened a crack and Nell’s left eye, brow and cheek appeared.

It took some persuading, but Nell finally opened the door. The trio looked around. They could spot nothing out of place or anything that didn’t belong.

NEXT: PART TWO

CREDIT: Clip Art

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You Think You Have Time

 

Time flies

“You think you have time.” -Buddha.

My thanks to my friend Kat Wahamaa
at https://www.facebook.com/kat.wahamaa

You Think You Have Time

You have places to go and people to meet,
You have to fulfill the plans that you’ve made.
But that’s quite all right, there’s plenty of time
And so you go on and you’re feeling sublime.

You think you have time to fit it all in,
But it’s a race with the clock to get it all done.
Like always you’ve done, you can manage your time,
No problem at all! You think you have time!

Another request to fit in with the rest,
But that’s no problem, you’re filled with life’s zest,
You’ll tackle Job One, be done in no time
And on to the next. You think you have time.

But you get hungry and you have to stop,
Get something to eat—Oops! There goes the phone.
An hour goes by and you’ve handled it fine
Ten more calls – and you think you have time.

You lay out your plan for your future’s sake,
For you know the pitfalls and what’s at stake…
Be careful you don’t miss reading that sign—
You’ve spent your youth ’cause you think you have time.

Plenty of time for promotion’s career…
Oops! Now you have two more children to rear.
Your wife says the garden needs some lime;
It’ll cost an hour, but you think you have time.

Retirement plans made and Oops! They have gone.
The grey in your hair? Premature of course!
Must be the weather, trees covered with rime.
Still time for promotion…you think you have time.

The kids have gonne on, the wife’s going too,
She’s contracted Alzheimer’s her care’s up to you,
But you can handle this too and handle it fine,
’Cause you are strong and you think you have time.

H. W. Bryce

CREDIT: http://our-kings.deviantart.com/art/time-flies-305692328

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Spin Doctor

 

Picture for Spin Doctor

Spin doctor

Spin Me a Tale

Spin doctor, spin doctor, spin me a tale,
One that no one can ever assail,
Make it a tale that I can address,
Just get me out of this terrible mess.

Spin doctor, spin doctor, spin me a tale,
Make it of love, make it one I can wail,
Help me, oh help me, oh help me do please,
I need a new story for me to believe.

Spin doctor, spin doctor, spin me a tale,
Make it one that will lift the old veil,
I need a new start, some help for my heart,
Give me some hope to set me apart.

Spin doctor, spin doctor, tell me your plan,
I need some instructions to show me I can,
I’m off of my rail with no guide and no light,
I’m in this darn mess with no ending in sight.

Spin doctor, spin doctor, use all of your skill,
I’ve used up my strength and I’ve run out of will.
I know you can do it, you’ve saved many a man,
Now I ask you to save me, give me a game plan.

Spin doctor, spin doctor, spin me a tale,
All my attempts have had no avail,
I need a new start, I’m a desperate man,
Please help me out, I’ll be ever your fan.

Spin me a tale, make it a whale of a tale,
Make it so that the dog wags the tail.
Put me in charge to rule my own fate,
Help me to stand, help me to rate.

Spin doctor, spin doctor, I’ll make you a deal,
You help me up and whatever appeals
I’ll give it to you, on my honor I vow,
If only you’ll help me, and help me right now.

–H. W. Bryce
January 2017

As usual, I speak for the “speakless,” the tired-out care giver, the homeless, the forlorn…See the motto above the banner.

CREDIT: http://101fundraising.org/2015/03/storytelling-its-more-important-than-you-think/storyteller/

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My Prayer for You

 

picture - My Prayer for you

Waiting by the window

My Prayer for You

My prayer for you each morning:
That you are home and safe at night.
I love you far too much to lose you,
You know my heart is ever true.

My prayer for you at lunch time,
That you will think of me
And feel my thoughts are with you
That your troubles will be few.

My prayer for you come evening
Is thanks that you are home secure,
for love with us is everything,
I pray that’s what you’ll always bring.

My prayer for you at night time
Is that you sleep a peaceful sleep,
That I can hold you in my arms
And always live among your charms.

I’d be lost without you,
I’d miss your loving eyes.
Know that I am true dear,
I pray that that is clear.

So that’s my prayer for you, my dear,
That you are happy, safe and here;
I’ll do my part in every way
Untill we both return to clay.

Just as long as we’re together
And you are close to me,
I’ll know my prayers are granted—
And that our lives have mattered.

–H. W. Bryce

This might be a young couple’s prayer. It could be for newlyweds, or for any old couple; it could even be for a care giver praying for his or her wandering Alzheimer’s partner. — May you be spared the ordeal.

Or, it could even just be a love song.

But any way you take it, I wish you safety, health, well being and happiness in 2017.

CREDIT: https://www.google.ca/search?q=image+waiting+By+the+Window.jpg&espv=2&biw=1045&bih=555&tbm=isch&imgil=pZnCMe7uDtyGmM%253A%253BvvDqo3cynoe85M%253Bhttps%25253A%25252F%25252Fcommons.wikimedia.org%25252Fwiki%25252FFile%25253AWaiting_By_The_Window.jpg&source=iu&pf=m&fir=pZnCMe7uDtyGmM%253A%252CvvDqo3cynoe85M%252C_&usg=__29ovbPNhbe2GosQTrejDmXnATrM%3D&ved=0ahUKEwjqo7rA_63RAhVB8GMKHbScCZ8QyjcILA&ei=aM1vWOrPOcHgjwO0uab4CQ#imgrc=pZnCMe7uDtyGmM%3A

Artist: Carl Holsoe (1863-1935) – This is a “A painting that is in the public domain because of its age. It’s title is “Waiting By The Window”.” 

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