Teams Memoirs, Pen Pals, and the St. Leonard Veterans' Service Organization

Members of the St. Leonard Veterans' Service Organization share their stories with the memoirs group and the grade school pen pals.

Team Memoirs Group No. 6: A Place of Honor

The Honor Guard march

With measured tread

In front of the Tomb

Of the Unknown Dead

Many other heroes lie

Beneath a cloudless but

Brilliant blue sky

All in silence rest

Together as our country’s best

Recently joined by two friends

Who served in foreign fields of war

Inseparable once, now united forever more

To all of you, we pledge

Our love above the pain

As we fervently promise

You have not died in vain

—William McDonald



Team St. Leonard's Memoirs Group: Welcome to the St. Leonard's Memoirs Group!

We are all residents at the St. Leonard's Retirement Center in Centerville, Ohio. Although we have varied backgrounds, we all share in one activity — the writing of our memoirs.
In some cases, we have published our books. In other cases, we are still working on those books. And in all cases, we help each other accomplish our goals.

~Mary

Team St. Leonard's Memoirs Group No. 2: Memories of Him

My husband, Fred Ebert, died August 20, 2005, of the dignity-robbing disease, Alzheimer's, at the age of 85. He was a tall, handsome man who was a printer
by trade. He used to work in the garage a lot and have to measure many things
for the job. I remember one day, it took him five tries before he could get the proper measurement he needed, and this was so unlike him because he was normally good at this. It was at this point that I realized he didn't understand the way he once had.

The two of us traveled a lot; however, on one of our trips, I remember how he kept driving around in a circle and we always ended up in the same spot. I told him that we had been at this point before, but he insisted that we never had. This is when it came to the time that I had to sit myself down and ask myself ... is it him or is it me? Yet, with the occurrence of other symptoms of this disease, I realized it was him.

Therefore, I did all I could do to protect myself such as my assets, and my future. I had a general idea what I was in for. I knew that change was the worst thing to do for someone with his disease, but he was beginning to become unruly, and I needed to be secure.
I saw him failing and I needed the help.

I remember one evening as we were sitting on our screened-in porch, he kept leaning forward to look out toward the front door. I inquired as to what he was looking for, and he told me he was waiting for his wife.

In March, 1993, we made the decision to put our home of 33 years on the market and made arrangements to move to St. Leonard Retirement Community. It was a new environment for him, but turned out to be a good move, a safe decision.

He was in his own world. Many times, he ran away and I would have to go out and find him. One day, I took him to our Day-Away program and informed the instructor that I would return at 5; however, he managedto walk away from the building — walking 3 miles in 95 degree weather before the police found him down on 725.

Just before I admitted him to the Dementia Unit at our nursing home, I lost him again at Office Depot. He left the store and had walked away, with no identification on him. A customer recognized him and turned him around and I had no opportunity to thank her.

At this time, and as his condition worsened, he never asked how I was doing, or how the finances were, or anything of that sort. The six years he spent in the Nursing home were really tough, with lots of problems as the disease progressed. However, my eighteen years living here at St. Leonards has been a happy place and surely the best move I have ever made.

I will turn 88 years-old next November. I am a survivor and I just deal.

Team St. Leonard's Memoirs Group No.3: So Long 8365 St. Francis Court!

Norma and I were living in beautiful Bella Vista, Arkansas, in the late 1980s. Our son, Dan, and family were living in Dayton (actually Washington Township), Ohio. In 1991, our daughter, Deborah, and family moved to Centerville. Each year we made a trip to visit our Ohio families. On one such trip Dan began to urge us to move to Ohio and took us to visit Bethany Village. Nothing came of that. After Christmas of 1991 we came to Ohio again. This time Dan took us to see the cottages at St. Leonard. We were shown 8365-67 St. Francis Court. These two units had been built in a conjoined manner so that one couple could occupy the two units. Now they were to be remodeled into two separate units. We signed up for the 8365 unit and then went home to arrange to sell our Bella Vista house. Renovation of the cottage and selling of our house took some time. So it was August 1992 by the time we moved in.

It took some cutting back of furniture and other things from our spacious house in Bella Vista so as to fit into the cottage, but we were quite happy with it. Yet we did find ways to make improvements. We had the patio in the back enclosed. That was done by George Monington. While he was working there his wife suffered a fatal heart attack. I conducted the funeral. During our second summer there I noticed spots in the lawn where grass would die out when the weather got warm and dry. When I prodded these spots I found that there were rocks just a few inches under the surface. I dug the rocks out and the following summer the spots were gone. Except for one spot. When I investigated that one I found that it was a much larger rock. As I investigated further I found it to be a boulder bigger than I would be able to lift out once I had dug around it. So I tried to break it up. I drilled holes in it and with chisel and hammer sought to split it, but nothing happened. So there is still a spot that dies out every summer.

8365 faces south west by south. The high windows take in the sunshine every clear winter afternoon and bring a pleasant warmth to the central room. In the summer, however, that warmth is not so welcome. Even with drapes covering the windows a lot of heat comes in. The solution seemed to be plant a tree in a location that would shade the windows in the summer time. That is, of course, when the tree grows. Maples are fast growing trees. So I chose a scarlet maple. Only after I had planted it did someone tell me that scarlet maples are not fast growing. If you drive by 8365 today you will see the tree after about 15 years of growth. In another 30 years it will provide shade for the windows if it continues to be there.

Eventually the St. Leonard administration had a concrete walkway made down to the original pond. That made it possible for me to wheel Norma down to the pond in her wheel chair. Later a part of the path through the woods also was surfaced with concrete. Thus I could show her the beauty of the woods with its singing birds and high trees.

We made use of many of the activities which St. Leonard provided. A couple of times each year the activities directors arranged for picnics, usually at the park on Caesar's Creek Lake. We also joined others for the restaurant outings all over southwest Ohio. All through the years we made frequent trips to the Dayton Philharmonic concerts at Memorial Hall and later to the Schuster Center.

The people in our pod on St Francis Couirt were always congenial. We had at least one, but usually two, pod picnics each year at various locations around the pod. One was special enough to be reported with a picture in the Campus Voice. The picnic was centered around Charline Olwine's garage and Bill Grill grilled the meat on his electric grill. The residents of the pod have changed over the years but the congeniality has continued. The last few summers there have been the Thursday evening sit-outs. Everyone brings a lawn chair to the island in the middle of the pod, listens to a boom box and visits till sun down. I, like other former residents, have been invited to join the group this coming summer.

Norma was rather reluctant to move here. We had such good friends in Arkansas, and it is so beautiful there. But after only a short time we found great friends here and found the area to be quite beautiful.

As the years passed by Norma's many health problems began to make it necessary for her to have more and more constant care. Someone suggested the Day-A- Way program. After she and I had learned what we could about it Norma enrolled in the program. Each Monday, Wednesday and Friday she would be at Day-a-way from 9:30 a m to 4 pm .She enjoyed observing the other people and took part in many of the activities. It was while she was there that she did a water color painting that took a first prize in the Art and Writing exhibition.

Even with the respite that day-away gave me, my back became more and more troublesome. It showed itself especially in sciatic pain. Finally I decided that if l was to be able to continue to care for Norma I needed to have surgery. That meant that for the time being Norma had to have full time care during my surgery and the recovery time. At first she was in assisted living because there was no room in Health and Rehab. After a couple of weeks a bed became available to her in H & R

The back surgery was quite successful. However, when my recovery had reach almost completion neuropathy struck me quite viciously. I had numerous falls and needed considerable help myself The result was that Norma could not come home. Instead I visited her every day .. She was well cared for at th e H &R and was fairly happy there. But her physical and mental health deteriorated. Then, our youngest son, Paul, had a recurrence of melanoma and after some devastating chemo-therapy, died. That seemed to take away all will to live from Norma. About a month and a half after Paul's death Norma very peacefully left life in this world for the eternal life God had prepared for her and all believers.

My life at 8365 since that time five years ago has been rather empty, though I had wonderful neighbors and great friends from my church. In fact, during the early stages of my neuropathy men from the church arranged for there to be one of them with me for several hours five days of the week Another factor that has helped fill some of that emptiness has been the Memoirs Group. I am thankful to Gerri Ebert who told Barb Clark that Memoirs might be good for me and to Barb Clark for passing on that suggestion.

It was great to be surrounded by the things that Norma and I had shared in our cottage. But eventually, I knew, the time would be for those things to be in other hands. So that it might not be such a huge project for my family after my death, I decided to take a step in the direction of the disposal of my things in the process of moving into a small apartment.

Now it is done and I am glad. So I say, "So Long, 8365 St. Francis Court" So Long means that the 18 Yz years I was in that cottage was longer than I expected it to be. "So Long" also means "Good Bye".
—Art Schultz

Team St. Leonard's Memoirs Group No. 4: Merry Mix-Ups

It was a big, big-wig retirement party in a big banquet hall in a big building in Chicago, probably the Merchandise Mart, in the 1950’s. The company my husband Dave worked for was sponsoring the party and all the employees and their spouses were invited. We drove downtown from our suburban house and parked on the roof.

We sat at one of the long tables covered with white tablecloths, next to Dave’s friends, Mike and Al. On the tables were beautiful centerpieces of real flowers, and lots of silverware all carefully arranged beside the plates. Black and white garbed waiters kept our wine and cocktail glasses well filled and refilled..

We all chatted casually. Then we heard the people at the end of our table begin laughing very hard. We craned our necks and saw a frumpy, middle-aged woman, dressed as an old washerwoman in a blue and white striped dress and cap and dirty white apron, working her way down the table, wiping the tablecloth with a gray rag, reaching between people, picking up plates and wiping underneath, and switching a plate with someone else’s, never cracking a smile.

She would polish the back of someone’s chair, go back and pick up a napkin she’d clumsily knocked on the floor, and drape it over the wrong person’s lap. She polished the backs of some of the chairs, sometimes licking her finger to wipe off a spot, then dusted imaginary dandruff off a man’s shoulders. She was serious and businesslike, sometimes clucking her tongue in disapproval as she polished a man’s bald head. There was no end to her antics. When she finished with our table, she went on to another, and we heard laughter at table after table. We were still laughing when our first course arrived. She was a good comedian, our entertainment for the evening.

After dinner, we wandered around talking to Dave’s friends. A band played and some people were dancing and visiting the open bar, where Mike appeared to be hanging out. We didn’t stay long, as we had to get home to our children that we’d left with a baby sitter. Dave mentioned on the way home that Mike was drinking way too much, and he wondered how he would drive himself home.

We didn’t find out until Dave went to work on Monday. His friend Al had helped Mike, who was so drunk he couldn’t walk, out to the rooftop parking lot, and asked, “Which car is yours, Mike? I’ll drive you home in your car because you can’t drive, and stay at your place tonight and leave my car here. Then we can both come back early tomorrow in your car and I’ll get my car.” Mike gazed around at all the cars and pointed unsteadily toward a light blue Chevrolet. Al said, “Okay, where are your keys?” Mike fumbled in his pockets, found the keys and gave them to Al. They drove to Mike’s house and parked on the street in front of his apartment.

The next morning, Al and Mike, sober and very subdued and groggy, were having coffee. Al told Mike what had happened. Mike looked out the window overlooking the street and said, “Where’s my car? I don’t see it anywhere.” Al went to the window and said
“There it is. That light blue Chevy.”

Mike said, “That’s not my car. I have a light green Olds.”

Al was dumfounded. “But your keys worked and I used them to drive us here. How could that happen? I don’t know whose car that is, but we’d better get it back fast, before the owner finds it’s missing and we’re arrested for car theft.” As they drove back, they figured out the key problem. General Motors sometimes made duplicate keys for different models, and that’s why Mike’s key worked in the wrong car.

They hoped they would be in time as they drove back to the Mart, and finally, at the top of the ramp, breathed a sigh of relief when they saw their two cars parked there alone in the big lot, and whoever owned the blue car had apparently not arrived, or had gone for the police. They parked the blue car where it had been the night before and quickly got out..

They were almost to their cars when another car, with two people inside, came up the ramp. The driver pulled up beside the blue car and a nice-looking, well-dressed young woman got out.. As she unlocked the blue car, Al said, “Mike! That’s the old washerwoman! That blue car is hers!”

“Nah,” Mike said. “That’s not her. Too pretty. We’ll just never know.
Let’s go. I need more coffee.”
—Carol Vincent

Team Memoirs: Learning about Skype!

Team Memoirs learn to Skype with Memoir's Team Captain Mary Sikora, who was visiting friends in North Carolina.

Team Memoirs: Christmas and New Year's Celebration!

This team led by Mary Sikora of UD always has fun as they share their writing creativity and fellowship!

Team Memoirs Group: Talking to the Next Generation of Writers!

Young writers share their tips and ideas with the memoirs group!
~submitted by Dawn Arrowood~

Team Memoirs Luncheon at The Franciscan Center!

Writers gather at The Franciscan Center to share ideas, writing tips, and stories!

Team Intellectual Wellness: Memoirs Luncheon

Writers from St. Leonard's memoirs group gather for a luncheon and do what writers do: express themselves, contemplate, debate, and strive for intellectual flexibility.