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Tag: senior moments

  • Seeing the loving bond of parent and child under the hardest circumstances

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    It was the one-week anniversary of Nancy Guthrie’s kidnapping, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what was in her heart.

    Not the cardiac pacemaker that regulated her physical heart, but the heart of feelings.

    “Mommy, you are a strong woman,” said her daughter, “Today” show host Savannah Guthrie, in a video post. “We love you and will not rest until you are found.”

    The love, the angst and the devotion in her voice portrayed what was in her heart.

    It also told a lot about her mother, the woman who had nurtured and inspired an unbreakable bond.

    Nancy’s sweet face and gentle demeanor reminded me of the women in the poetry class I taught many years ago at the former Scripps Retirement Home in Altadena, many of whom, at the time, were the same age as Nancy is now.

    Gracious at their core, some were retired teachers and nurses who believed life was a gift and used it well, the kind of people one was honored to have as a friend. I sense Nancy had a lot in common with them.

    “What’s in your heart today?” I once asked my class just before Valentine’s Day. The women ranged in age from 82 to 96, and I wanted to know what they held dear at this last stage of life. Their poems were personal statements of simple lives well lived.

    “Papa, you always ‘enoughed us’” Pearl Fillmore, 85, wrote with gratitude in “An Open Letter to my Papa.”

    Although Pearl had never been a parent, she understood that a parent’s job was to give their children enough love, guidance, understanding and kindness. She knew because she had been given the gift of enough.

    From the devotion she has shared with the world, I think Savannah and her siblings feel their mother “enoughed them.”

    As I write this, there is no definitive news of Nancy’s whereabouts. I hope her quiet strength and faith have their arms around her.

    Email patriciabunin@sbcglobal.net. Follow her on Patriciabunin.com 

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    Patricia Bunin

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  • Why growing gopher mounds could mean a flurry of furries

    Why growing gopher mounds could mean a flurry of furries

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    My late father-in-law was an avid gardener.

    He was a pleasantly calm man but his feathers would ruffle when he found evidence of gophers in his garden. He spent hours every weekend trying to outsmart them. The only time I ever heard him utter an expletive was when his latest defense against them failed. 

    I thought of him this morning when I discovered two neatly sculptured dirt mounds in my front yard. I don’t recall ever having seen an actual gopher before. I had just witnessed the aftermath of the damage they did. So I knew what the mounds meant. Now I finally understood my father-in-law’s frustration when, in the short time it took me to walk to the driveway and pick up the newspaper, another little mound had popped up.

    “What are you doing down there?” I barked into the hole at the top at the mound. Picturing gophers in the underground tunnels turning my front yard into food storage pantries, I was wondering about the set up. Do they live in little apartments? Is it a condominium with a homeowner’s association? Should they be paying me dues?

    Listen, guys, if you are here now, could you make some kind of sound to let me know? Maybe you can teach me gopher speak

    Remembering how my father-in-law took personal offense when the G-guys messed with his fruit trees, I panicked that my lemon tree could be in danger. It’s ridiculous how much I love that tree.

    I tip-toed up the driveway so they couldn’t hear me coming. This was the first sign that I was unraveling. Would I be driven to set painful traps and spray poisonous deterrents, things to which I am morally opposed?

    “Have they been here?” I demanded of the ripening lemons.  There was no evidence, at least not yet. Would the tree be sinking into an underground tunnel by the time I awoke in the morning?

    Should I set up a lookout point on the deck where the lemons overhang the trellis? 

    I imagined a flurry of furries digging around the concrete footings that George had so carefully poured when he built the deck 35 years ago. Over time the deck has unwittingly hosted coyotes, squirrels, a raccoon and an opossum with a shockingly long snout. Maybe the gophers got jealous.

    Email patriciabunin@sbcglobal.net. Follow her on X @patriciabunin and Patriciabunin.com 

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    Patricia Bunin

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