Lingering Impressions

Learn From a Horse

  CHAPTER ONE

LEARN FROM A HORSE

At one time, I was talking to someone about having 4 children and 9 step children. As we continued our discussion, I was ready to move on when she said,

“Don’t stop!  I want to hear more.:

As time has passed, I have from time to time jotted down notes, but one item keeps coming to my mind., my youngest daughter. 

I arrived home from work one day to hear her mother say, “If you will give me a divorce, I will let you have your daughter.”

Before any of my readers ask how could a mother do that, let me hasten to explain that her mother knew that she didn’t have the skills necessary to raise children and was doing her daughter a favor by allowing her father to raise her.

To continue my story, as a single parent I raised my daughter.  Every year I went to her school for parent-teacher conferences.  And every year, I heard almost the exact same words and to paraphrase, the teachers would say;

“I don’t know what to say.  She is no trouble, does all her work.  She is a ‘joy to have in my class’.

From kindergarten through high school, I heard these words.  So I begin this post with a number of experiences from my children and step children and hope that someone out there may capture some nugget of truth that they can apply in their life.

Before I begin, I would like to relate an experience that recently occurred.  This has to do with horses. 

I have yearned to have a horse most of my life.  When the opportunity came for me to have a horse, I realized that I didn’t know anything about horses.  So, as a reader, I purchased some books and began reading horse magazines. 

One of the books, “30 Minutes a Day to a Better Horse”  by Jaki Bell, touched on an important concept.  If I want to have a horse that I can control and enjoy, I had better spend 30 minutes a day with that horse.  Now I thought that was an interesting concept.  To spend 30 minutes a day grooming, talking to, training, devoting the entire time to that horse.

WOW!!

Would that principle apply to our children.  At the bottom of this blog is a ‘comment ‘ note,  I  welcome you to write in with any of your comments or experiences.

But to continue with my horse story:

As I read the books on training horses, one fact kept coming into view.  One needs to gently guide the horse to do as you wish.  One book even mentioned that the goal was to exert only 4 oz of pressure to lead a horse.  If they pull away, try to run from you or control the direction of their movement, only apply enough pressure to let them know you are still there.  Using your strength to control the horse will only make the horse stronger and more able to over power your wishes.  So gently you exert your influence and when the horse responds to your pressure, then reward the horse with kind words.  NO!  Not goods or treats, but soft, sincere words and stroking of his skin, touching him so he knows that he is OK.

Then I have to think of all the conflicts I have seen between mothers and daughters, fathers and sons, parents and their offspring and so many times we see the expectations of the parents being imposed upon the child with a forceful manner.  The child fights back. The parent pushed harder. 

I remember reading that some Native American (Indians) tribes did not allow the father to raise his son.  The men of the village raised the son and maybe this was a way to prevent the push-pull of family relationships.  There are many societies where the grand parents and uncles and aunts are very involved in the raising of the child. 

So maybe the horse can teach us to take time, gently guide and show appreciation to our child.

My First Encounter

Chapter one of No Pictures, Please!

Some ten years ago, while visiting my dad in a rural community, he wanted to take me on a trip in the country.  Along with my mother, he took me out toward the old homestead where I lived as my dad made our living on a farm.  We passed one farm after another where a large house had been erected and usually, an even larger barn.  On the road and in front of many of the houses were horse and buggies.  Our neighbor hood had become a place for a community of Amish farmers.

One day, sitting on the front porch with my dad, a buggy pulled into his front yard.

“Would you like to sell that sixty?”

My father replied that he wouldn’t and besides it was in a government set aside program.

As the years passed, my father many times took me on a ride to see the new houses and barns springing up as more Amish moved into the area.  Later, I would find that they called their neighbors a “community”.  I would also learn that each community had a Bishop who helped determine the rules for that community.

Near the end of my father’s life, he mentioned to me that he sometimes wished he could live like the Amish.  I guess that it brought back memories of his youth.  Many of the Amish had tools that my father didn’t have when he was farming with horses.  As you follow the rest of this blog, you will see how I came to understand the meanings behind his words.

My mother passed when she was 88 after 65 years of marriage.  While visiting my father a few months later, he said,

“I worked hard all my life. Why can’t I just fly away?”

I had no answer. 

My father passed on a few months after my mother.

New Category

I am beginning a new post for quotes that seem to have meaning to me.  You are welcome to send me your favorites at my e-mail.  My first post is
"To the world you might be one person, but to one person you might be the world"
and as to the author, quoteland.com    couldn't come up with an author

Pete Williams

Other Characters

                    VII

At the firm I worked for, every patient was to have some outside activity every week.  Many times the patients would suggest or choose what they wanted to do.  From musical productions, (in the park and/or in a commercial building), to Sat night strolls in a local mall, each and every one of the patients had a chance to get out into the world.

The brothers above, enjoyed going to malls.  Although both would talk with other visitors of the mall, the younger brother was the flirt.  He had a crooked smile that won over the hearts of many a young lady.  Although his older brother could converse with almost anyone, it was this younger man who could attract the attention of the ladies. 

We would travel the length and breath of the malls eating at fast food restaurants and window shopping.  Occasionally someone would buy some item.  The patients received a few dollars a month and were quite good at saving up for a radio or a stuffed animal or whatever item caught their fancy.

As with any home situation where there are a number of people, ever so often tempers would flare and words would be spoken. 

One of the ladies in the home normally spent her hours in her own room.  But she would come out ever so often usually demanding some item or something to be done for her.  Her voice was one of those voices that just grate on your nerves.  The older brother above could hardly stand the sound of her voice.

He could be just as demanding as this lady.  His most common demand was to shut her up!  What made this so comical was that his voice was just as grating.  More so, he usually spent his time in the living room and he talked almost continuously.  So he is yelling at her to shut cause he can’t stand her voice and she is yelling back at him- at least this didn’t happen very often.

Before I continue on , let briefly note a couple of other examples to allow you to see the variety of characters we had in the different homes.  We had one lady, probably in her late 40’s or early 50’s who had a bad habit of lying.  And usually her lie had something to do with the fact that she had stolen the cigarettes of one of the help. She seemed to spend a lot of time wandering around the yard.  Another little lady in her 60’s had been the child of a rich couple who had traveled the world taking her with them.  She had a slightly nicer room because they had left her secure in her old age.  She worked as a bus lady at a local restaurant on Sundays and the help at the restaurant loved her.  Every time I saw her she had to show me her muscle and I just had to feel how much bigger it was getting.  One time she picked up a bowl of pine cones from under a tree in the yard and gave them to me.  For some time, every time I saw her, she had to know if I still had her pine cones.

But now we go to another patient who would “get under my skin”.

Sneak a Feel

To see previous posts on this subject, go to Out of sight-Out of mind on the left side bar.

                VI

There were two other brothers that I cared for in this home.  Both were in wheel chairs.  They were not twins as the afore mentioned brothers.

As with many brothers, each had a unique personality.

The oldest brother, quite soon after my arrival, asked for my help.  He needed to make a phone call and was having problems.  As I helped him in this effort, I learned that he had just returned from a trip and had met a girl who had promised to write him. 

The care center made a couple of “vacation” trips a year.  These trips would last for two or three nights and would entail visiting some spot where they could experience music or rides or other avenues of entertainment such as any young person would enjoy.   Usually, there were others there from other care centers who were handicapped.    Evidently, this older brother had met someone who appealed to him.  For several weeks, each time I helped care for him, we made phone calls and sent letters, all without any response.  This was the only time I ever saw him express any interest in the opposite sex.

His younger brother-that is a different story!

Neither one of the brothers could get in or out of their wheel chairs without help.  One of the problems with this, as well as with all the patients, was that the patients used this handicap to their advantage.  Any new help would soon find that these patients needed all types of tending.  The care centers had a policy that each patient was to do all he could on his own.  Sometimes, new help learned this principle slowly and worked a lot harder than necessary.

In the case of the two brothers, they even needed some one to transfer them from their wheel chair to their beds at night. But they could feed themselves, although needing some one to clean their face as well as the space around where they sat at the dinner table. We also allowed them to undress themselves before bath time and allowed them to dress themselves for bed.  With a strap around their waist to prevent them from falling out of the wheel chair, they struggled to put on socks and pants; by the time they finished dressing themselves and taking their medicine, it would be bed time and they would be wore out.

Bathing could be a problem.  Most usually, the majority of the help was female.  Our procedure  was to transfer them to a water proof wheel chair after they had taken off their clothes.  We had a large shower area and a flexible hose on the shower head and made them, as best they could, lather themselves before we rinsed them off.  The had to lather their own private parts.

Nurses bathe male patients in hospitals all the time.  No big deal, RIGHT?

Except this younger brother, well, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself!!!

He was always "sneaking a feel”.

And when we hired an especially well endowed lady,  eventually she refused to give him a bath.

           

Talk to Me Dad!

We invite you to visit our web site Talk to Me Dad for one of the books by Pete Williams

Almost an Animal

                                                                V

I began work in one of the homes as an extra, working shifts as a fill in. The first home I worked in had 8 patients. Not one of these patients could have survived on their own. Not only were they incapable of cooking for their selves, but many needed some one to bathe them. A few were in wheel chairs and some were even incapable of moving from the wheel chair to their bed. As I have mentioned earlier, they were incapable of even reading. Of the patients I dealt with during my stay as a helper, the one who had the least amount of control over himself was a young man, only slightly better than his twin. This young man looked almost like a body builder, but was incapable of walking. One of his legs would not extend and support his weight. When we took him anywhere, two of us, one supporting him on each side, helped him struggle to the van. In the home, he roamed the house by crawling. He had his own room, but spent most of his hours on the floor in front of the television. I never heard him speak. He never appeared to be watching the TV, just laying there. Occasionally, I would see him look at me or someone else with his head cocked to the side and his mouth opened wide as if he could bite someone. If you have ever seen a picture of a bear roaring, you would have an idea of how he looked. In fact, any time I walked by him close enough for him to reach out to me, I kept a wary stance around him. He had attacked staff and even took a bite out of one lady’s breast. Although he reminded me of an animal, our job as staff was to treat everyone as humanly as possible. I would speak to him as I passed him and sometimes lay my hand briefly on his shoulder. Never was their any response. As time went on, I noticed that sometimes he would lay on a couch across the room from the TV, still without any response to outside stimulus. There were times when feeding, bathing, and other chores were done and we would have time to socialize with the patients. One evening I noticed this young man lying on the couch and I went over and sat down at the end where his feet lay. After I had did this several times, I picked up his feet and lay them on my lap and for some time massaged them. I never saw any response of any kind from this man, but he would allow me to massage his feet as long as I had time. Earlier, I mentioned another man who was losing all control of his muscles, yet his mind was still clear. Whether this man that I just described, was even able to have a thought was unknown to me or the rest of the staff. At one time in the near past, he would have been stuck in a room with maybe a mat and maybe a change of clothes and allowed to spend his life in solitude. I think of both of these men, neither able to care for their selves through no fault of their own and think that I could have been either man. Today we are caring for them. Maybe we have become a little more civilized.

Shouldn't Have These Feelings

 

                                                                        IV

 Part of the clients that I picked up were from another agency which took care of the patients at night and on weekends, but sent the patients to the day care center during the week. I picked up three people at this center. As I have already related, the young man who lived inside a shell of a body lived in this center. There were two others that I picked up at this center. One was a man, an older man, who could hardly walk. His legs bent out at the knees and to move from one place to another, he had to use a walker. I remember one time when I arrived early and was waiting for everyone to get ready, he asked the lady in charge why he couldn’t get a motorized wheel chair. She patiently told him that if he quit walking all the time, soon he would not be able to walk at all. He accepted her response. When he got into the van, he usually needed some assistance because of the height. This man only went to the day care center 4 days a week. While I would be waiting he sometimes would ask me to come to his room because he had something new. I remember the last time I was over at this center, he showed me his desk. A large desk worthy of an executive with a matching chair. When I left, he was sitting at his desk doing what ever he does. Remember this man as later we have another encounter. There was a lady at this center who rode all 5 days to the day care center. She loved sitting in the front chair helping me drive. If the person whose turn it was to be in front would happen to get out before we reached her home, she would ask if she could come up and sit. I would check to see if any one else was interested and usually they weren’t and she would move up front. There was a tremendous difference about her. After a couple of turns, she stopped giving hand signals and began having serious discussions with me. I do not remember how they started. Maybe she would talk about things that happened at her home or at the day care center. I don’t exactly remember. But I do remember one day her talking about having anger control problems at her home center and at the day care center. She went on to say that she didn’t have this problem when riding with me in the van. One day we are getting close to her home and she said that she would like to say something to me. As near as I can remember: “I know I shouldn’t say what I am going to say; but I am having feelings that I should not have toward you.” Not to long after this incident, the day care center closed down and I didn’t give her any more rides. But when the day care center was ready to close she asked me if I could get her any books for her to learn. It was at this time that I learned she was about at the 4th grade level. I happened to have a demo book for some encyclopedia with lots of pictures that I gave her. On the last day, I went to tell the director of her home good bye and this lady was there and I told her good bye. The director told her it was ok to give me a hug and like some bashful young lady of 12 or so, she was reluctant. Then we hugged goodbye!

So Small, So Quiet-I almost missed her

        III

After a few days of picking up and dropping off patients, some conversation was beginning to occur and I was beginning to pick up on some of their traits.  One evening, after they had all loaded and I had checked to make sure they all had their seat belts on, I turned in my seat and addressed them. 

I said, “Would any one like to sit in front with me?”

It was quite oblivious that they were interested, so I continued, “We will take turns and the one in front is not to talk, but is to help me drive.  When you see a stop light turn red, you will raise your hand for me to stop.  When the light turns green, you will move your finger forward to let me know it is alright to go.  When we go by streets that have cars coming down them, you are to point at the cars so I will be careful.”

I was talking to them as though they were children.  Later I would find out more about their abilities as each had different afflictions.  Only one was able to read or study and probably at about the 4th grade level.  Their ages ranged for middle 30s to past 65.  I gathered that many had had their parents take care of them until the parents became unable to continue that responsibility. 

One of the first to take his place up front helping me to drive was a man well into his 60,s.  He would sit in the passenger seat and use his hand and finger to help me drive.  Sometimes I had to hide the urge to smile as from outward experiences, he seemed to be a normal older gentleman with child like actions and they didn’t quite jibe.  With a rotation twice a day, each rider would have a chance to be up front at least once a week. 

Although I told them that I expected them to “not talk”, I would engage in conversation with them and I would ask him a question or make a comment about some happening on occasion.  He would barely reply if at all.  One day, he pointed over to a little suburb as we passed and said, “I lived in one house over there for 64 years.”

We never had a long conversation, but from that day on, I would have some response on a regular basic from him.

I tried to talk to and treat each as a person and even though their IQ may not have been very high, we still had some interesting conversations.  One day when we were getting ready to leave for our trip taking them home, I happened to look at the small lady sitting in the middle of the seat right behind the drivers seat.  She had Downs’ Syndrome and could have been maybe 50 along with a very small stature.  I had been told that she was deaf and could not hear me and as she never needed any prompting, I had no reason to believe otherwise. I had not included her in my rotation of help drivers,  Yet she sat there studying my every move and seemed to hear word.

I said, “Would you like to drive?”

Her eyes lit up and she shook her head rapidly up and down and so I put her in the rotation.  From the first day as my assistant driver, she knew exactly what to do raising her hand to stop and signaling me to go.  Her concentration was totally on her job.  I will never forget that look on her face when I asked her if she wanted to help drive, more so, I wonder how many times we over look some one because they are small or quiet or we have been told something about them, in the process not only depriving them of the pleasure of helping, but depriving us of skills never to be used.

A Mind Trapped in a Body

II

 My van had two front seats and two rows of bench seats directly behind. Behind this space was room for two wheel chairs side by side. Normally I would have 6 passengers that occupied the seats and two wheel chairs with patients strapped to those chairs. Before I can explain the next incident, I must first explain the music and how we determined who would sit where. Who ever had this route before me, had placed the passengers in the two bench seats. The passenger seat in front remained empty. The radio station had been set by the director and was not a station that I enjoyed. So, on one of my first trips, I asked the passengers if I could find another station. As I was turning the dial, I happened upon an “oldies rock and roll” station. I asked if this station was ok and since we were all new to one another, I was met with silence. In time, various patients would join in and sing along with a familiar song. Each trip, morning and evening took around an hour and a half not counting the time involved before I picked up my first passenger or after I dropped off my last passenger and headed back home. At my first pickup point on the morning run, I picked up one young gentleman, I suppose around 30 or 35 years of age. He was almost always a little late. Not enough to cause any problems with my route, but giving me a few minutes to become acquainted with the staff of the home. The reason that he was late was that the nurse responsible for getting him dressed and fed worked at another job and always ran a few minutes late arriving at this home. This man had Lou Gehrig's disease. He had been a tour guide before becoming ill. He had progressed to the point that he could not control his bodily functions, so he wore a diaper. He could not control his hands, so he had to be fed. He had to be cleaned by a caretaker. About the only thing he could do was manage a mis-aligned smile. You could tell when he was happy and that was an almost constant thing. While waiting for him, I would go into his room and talk to him. Of course it was a one way conversation as even a grunt was almost beyond his control. As I understand the disease, even though he gradually lost the use of all muscles in his body, his mind remained clear. He had a collection of base ball caps and pictures from Playboy. He seemed to enjoy watching TV. I loaded him along with his wheel chair into the back of the van and the other two passengers also climbed into the van. We began the lengthy trip to pick up the rest of the patients. We picked up the rest of the patients and as, by time, the patients were becoming comfortable around me, the van was fairly noisy. Then out of the blue, I heard this young man trying to sing along with the song on the radio. An outsider would not have recognized any “music” in the noise he made, but as I looked in the rear view mirror, it was oblivious he was trying to sing. The effort required soon took its toll and he was quite again, just as I had always known him. His soul, his mind, trying to escape the prison of his non-responsive body.