Small Town Life

In 1980, I was 18 years old.   The drinking laws had just changed in Iowa.  Previously the legal age was 18. The law now stated that a person had to be 19 to be able to go to a bar.  I was still 17 when the law changed.  I was a few months too young to be "grandfathered" in.   In my world, this was the most unfair and cruel thing that could happen to me.

 I lived in a very small town.  There was precious little else to do.  I went to school, studied and worked.  I worked in the food service at the local college in town.  This meant that a lot of my friends and coworkers were college students. Naturally they were a couple of years older than I was. I was a high school kid, a townie.  If they were toddling off to the bar after work, I would walk with them part of the way but turn off to go home not continuing to the bar with them.  

It was December and the campus was closing down for Christmas.  Many of my friends were going back to their own homes in other towns or other states for the holidays.  On the last night before they left we thought it would be a great idea if I came with them to the bar.  It was their last night before they left.  I wouldn't see them for weeks.   It would be churlish to turn toward my house and sobriety on this special evening. 

I walked with them and boldly walked through the front door of Joe's (the bar). We squished into one of the booths in the small but crowded bar on the main street in my home town.   

Naturally the bartender (Clay) knew me and I knew him.  He was unsure how old I was so I was "carded" to prove that I was old enough to be in the bar and drinking alcohol.   Of course I didn't have it.  I was underage.  I gave some excuse as to why I was not carrying I.D. and the bartender left our table.  I thought I got away with it . . . until a few minutes later when the he came back to the table.  He had called my house.  Clay was informed by whoever answered the phone that I was only 18 years old.  I was rumbled and I needed to leave. 

With great eye rolling I left the bar and walked the few blocks back to my house.  I was greeted by my sisters and some friends who were visiting us for Christmas. They had answered the phone and told the caller that I was 18.  I think they were pleased with themselves for spoiling my illegal plans for the evening. 

I held a grudge against poor Clay for decades.  He didn't know. It probably never crossed his mind again.  This episode in my young life is fodder for a wonderful story. The story of life in a small Iowa town. Everybody knows you.  Everybody knows your business. You can't get away with anything! I never embellish this story.  It is great as it is. "You think you had it rough!  The bartender CALLED MY HOUSE!"

Moving Up a Gear

This summer my mother had a TIA.  For those who don't know, a TIA is a transient ischaemic attack.  It's a mini-stroke.  If any sort of stroke can be mini.  They just randomly show up and take a bit of your brain function away.    

The episode put her in the hospital.  From the hospital she went to a rehabilitation facility in the hope that she would regain enough of her faculties to return home. This hasn't happened.  She is not well enough to return home without full time nursing care and alarmed doors.   This meant that when my mother left her apartment in June, she would never return.

It strange how a planned life with schedules, cell phone headaches, dates to meet up with friends and  carefully archived mementos are gone in an instant.  The life my mother had is gone.  Are there any comforts from former busy lives on offer in care homes? I wonder if they can give patients hot coffee in care homes. I know there is a risk of scalding but sometimes  a good coffee, served how you like it, works wonders.  Can they have a beer?

I haven't been able to speak to her since she went into the hospital in June.  First she was in the hospital and there was no way to get the technology arranged.   Later she was moved from rehabilitation care and  became a permanent resident. During this shift a vital piece of her cochlear implant was lost.  She was then rendered almost helpless.  Without her implant there was absolutely no way to speak to her.  She wasn't able focus on the screen long enough to recognise the face at the other end.   The one time I tried to connect with her, it was really sad.  She was being fed her lunch at the time and wouldn't shift her focus from the food to the screen.  I kept hoping that she'd focus and see me but she never did.

My lovely sister has been down to see our mom again and taken her to all her appointments.  One of the appointments was the audiologist.  She has a fully functioning cochlear implant once again.   Scheduling an international FaceTime call isn't easy with a overworked (and caring staff) at her care facility. I have an appointment with my mom tomorrow.  I hope she can focus on the iPad.  I want her to be able to see me and have a conversation with her.