Sam’s stay at the University of Utah hospital, including about three weeks in their neurological rehabilitation program for stroke victims and other brain injuries, was almost a month long and he finally got to come home the last week in October.

Even that was a result of miscommunications, as the team up north was under the impression that we had an almost full-time team here at home to look after his needs. It turns out that “team” was primarily me, and it took all of five days for me to become physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted. That resulted in his admission here to Allen Memorial Hospital.

From my own experience three years ago with a stroke, I know how debilitating, demoralizing and frustrating it is not to have full control of your body, body functions, speech, and personal self, which is to say, I understand Sam’s current state of mind. But his speech isn’t affected at all, so whether he is at home or down at Allen Memorial, he would appreciate visits from friends. Just don’t expect him to challenge you to a foot race.

–aft–

While Sam was away, I had my 70th birthday. My sisters, Ariel and Brangwyn, said I had to plan an observance of this milestone, or they would do it for me, and by darn, they were coming to Moab to make sure I did, plus they were bringing our brother, Brant, with them.

I notified a few of my fiber friends, and had a sewing party the afternoon of my birthday. That’s where you bring whatever you are stitching, crocheting, knitting, spinning, etc., and each shows and works on her project while the group visits. It was lovely.

That evening the extended family went out to dinner. Afterwards, among the gifts one was tagged “From Mother,” who has been dead several years now. This was a “Cornet” magazine (is “Cornet” even around anymore?) from 1952, containing one of mother’s favorite stories entitled “The Littlest Stork.”

This gift from the past had us all looking over that old magazine: the hair and dress styles, the products advertised, and so forth. It reminded me that, just before the old Holyoak house was slated for restoration for the Youth Garden Project, I had visited the place and found a pile of old “Improvement Era” magazines about the same age as my “Cornet.” What this past teaches us, I have surmised, is that the problems people faced then are almost identical to the ones we face now.

The ancient Greek authors taught that lesson, but then it seems to be one we have to learn again and again.

The day after my actual birthday, Molly, Zane’s wife, took us siblings on an afternoon float trip, thence to have our portrait made at the old time photo place, thence on to the Grand County High School football game, and big day.

And a great time was had by all, and my siblings returned together to Denver the next day, and peace was restored.