Saturday, November 23, 2024
33.0°F

True stories

by Barbara Elvy Strate
| August 10, 2006 11:00 PM

My Daughter Jan told me this true story.

An eight-year-old boy waited in the car for his mother. Every weekday morning she dropped him off at school before going on to her job. She worked with Alzheimer's patients.

The mother hurried into the car and backed out of the driveway. About a block from home she said, "I'll have to go back. I forgot some papers. I can't remember anything these days. I must be getting Alzheimer's."

"Mom" the boy said, "You're not GETTING All-timers, you've GOT Half-timers."

"What do you mean?" she asked indignantly.

"Half the time you don't know the difference between —-and Cineole".

And now my true story…

"That was Ada," I told my husband after hanging up the phone.

"Who's Ada?" he asked.

"I don't know. We just talk on the phone."

"What does she want?"

"I don't know that either. The next time she calls I'll ask her."

Ada and I became acquainted with that phone call in March. We had a lovely long chat. She detected my English accent (I don't think I have one) and that set us on common ground as Ada has traveled throughout England many times and knows the area where I lived.

My mind at that time was channeled on the things I needed to do before traveling west to Seattle, and South to Australia. I blanked out everything else that didn't apply to this purpose.

Early in May, about three days after our return from Australia, I answered the telephone. I recognized the husky voice on the other end of the line. It was my Jewish friend Ada. I remembered that little bit about her from our first chat.

"Where in the world have you been?" she asked. "I've been trying to get you for days. Did you take a trip to the moon?"

"No. I took a trip to Australia".

Her hearty laughter rattled the phone. "I was joking when I said that."

"I wasn't joking about my trip."

We had a short chat about passports, the hassle of going through customs and jet lag.

You don't want to be bothered with this now" my friend said. (She knew all about jet lag. She'd had it a few times). "I'll call again at the end of next week".

I appreciated her understanding of how jet lag can stay glued to one for days. When I hung up the phone I tried to remember the reason for her call. I couldn't and I hadn't bothered to ask. While Ada talked, my subconscious kept telling me not to add anything more to my very cluttered thinking compartment.

Thirty hours of air travel and airport layovers, plus two days of traveling by car from Seattle to Bigfork can do strange things to one's mind and body.

True to her word, Ada called the next week.

"Anyone from Surrey, England should be having a sunny day." Her husky voice was tipped with laughter.

"Not a good day."

"Still trying to shake off Australia?" she asked.

"That and many other things."

"I called because Marion will be in Bigfork this afternoon and I wondered if we could set up an appointment for three o'clock. She won't be down that way again for a couple of months."

Appointment for what? Who is Marion? I felt like knocking my head against the wall to see if it would activate my recall button which seamed to be permanently stuck on blank.

"Our insurance agent is coming this afternoon." I explained. "I'm still a little rummy and I can't handle too much in one day."

"I understand." my telephone friend said. "How about me checking with you in a couple of months."

"That sounds good. By then I hope I'm back on track."

I hung up the phone.

"My friend Ada again," I said to my husband.

"Did you find out why she keeps calling?"

"No. Whatever it is will keep. When she calls later this summer I'll ask her. I hope she's selling memory loss potions."