this and that

Dodie is more playful than she lets on.

She loves to tease and banter. But maintaining a proper image has always been high on her must-do list.

So how the folks at Oakleaf Village talked her into this get-up is anyone's guess. Had to be one of their activities directors -- maybe Fran, who has since retired, or Allison, whose energy is unflagging.

Even though Mom will tsk-tsk at PDAs, even among octogenarians, someone charmed her into tarting up for this photo. It's one of my all-time faves and deserves a place of honor in this account.
From the bottle-blonde wig and smeared lipstick to the feather boa and red rose, Dodie stepped way out of character and loved it. This shot was on her frig at Oakleaf until we moved her out last month.

It's way more fun than the shot below, an Olan Mills special Dode must have had taken when she lived in Dayton, among the rest of her highly proper family.

You really see the resemblance to her younger sister, Anne, and some of her brothers in this shot.
Note the matching beads and earrings.

In her later years, Mom really got into ornamentation. No outfit was complete without multiple strands of beads, at least one brooch, and a scarf.
Her red walker also was trimmed with a bright lei from some theme party. Kiki, her greatgrandaughter, had first draped it over the front and there it stayed. Later, new decor joined the lei. It was a point of pride for Mom.

Spending time with an aging parent is at best bitter-sweet. There are all those lingering quirks and preferences which drove you crazy 40 years ago and they're STILL THERE!

But into the mix goes the slowly creeping dementia. It must be a comfort to Mom, as it allows her to ignore so much going on around her and yet remain steadfast about what makes her feel herself and who she is.

Only recently, since her rapid decline late in January and subsequent move to Ebeid Center, have we come to realize how hard Mom was working to maintain an appearance of normalcy, how important it was to cling to that prized propriety. These days she seems much more relaxed. In fact, she says, "I feel safe here."

Much of the paranoia that came naturally to her had blossomed in recent years at Oakleaf, as Dorothy struggled to tell the difference between what was real and what only seemed real. After all those decades battling the very real depredations of paranoid schizophrenia (more about that in posts to come), Mom had been able to somehow compound an inner world view only barely tethered to reality, yet comfortable to her.
Much of the fear that accompanies the delusions and strange sensory prompts for those with PS seemed to have been resolved. That's been a blessing.

And now her memories seem to swirl around her like butterflies, the real and the imagined dancing together. It doesn't look all that bad from my perspective.

Of course, I think Dode no longer recalls her days of glory in 2004, when residents at Oakleaf voted her in as their queen, Miss Oakleaf Village. Her election there was her entree into a much larger arena: the My Fair Lady contest held each July during the Lucas County Fair.
Women of a certain age (plus 20-40 more years) all gathered in their best polyester on a sunny summer day inside one of the airplane hangar-like buildings at the Lucas County Fairgrounds.
Most had family, friends, and fellow residents to support them. A busload had come from Oakleaf to cheer Dodie on.
With a local entertainer, Eddie Boggs, as MC, the contestants were put through their paces. There was, thankfully, no swimsuit competition, but there was sashaying, strutting, and waving. (Mom had practiced her royal wave and it was perfection.) Instead of a talent component, contestants were asked for advice to be shared with the younger generations.
"Always be honest and kind," Mom said. She was the favorite early on, but another contestant, Ruth Davis, who had founded an eponymous business college decades ago, won by virtue of her age: 101. Mom became a runner up and was she proud.
It was a wonderful moment for this lifelong striver.