Losing My Acquaintance

A perspective on the dilemma of Dementia and Altzheimer's - condensed version

Losing My Acquaintance

 Authored By:

Don Wiggins

Table of Contents

Prologue. 4

Key West – The Early Days. 9

Panama – A New Beginning. 11

For Priscilla - my wife, friend, confidant and companion for nearly 50 years

For many, music is among the most effective vessels for nostalgia - a timeless and ever-present conveyance through the past, present and future…

“I can't light no more of your darkness

All my pictures seem to fade to black and white

I'm growing tired and time stands still before me

Frozen here on the ladder of my life…”

“Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me”

Elton John

“…Now there's a wall between us something there's been lost

I took too much for granted got my signals crossed

Just to think that it all began on a long-forgotten morn

"Come in" she said

"I'll give you shelter from the storm…"

“Shelter from the Storm”

Bob Dylan

“…She's the one makes me feel so good

When everything is against me

Picks me up when I'm feeling down

So I've got something to show…”

“Empty Pages”

Steve Winwood/Jim Capaldi

 “…And if the dam breaks open many years too soon

And if there is no room upon the hill

And if your head explodes with dark forbodings too

I'll see you on the dark side of the moon…”

“Brain Damage”

Pink Floyd

Prologue

As we gaze at the rapidly passing scenery along an iconic stretch of highway, our mind’s eye wanders through our past and all the while navigating the present and contemplating how we’ll play our next hand. And despite our desire to slow things down a bit and perhaps seize a moment or two to savor it, life continues to whirl by far too quickly. Ever urging youth to blossom like wishing winter in to spring it seems we’re compelled for one reason or another to live in a continuous state of tomorrow.

Continuing on that fast-paced journey, accelerating as we lean into the curves, we’ve only a suggestive guardrail – little more than our conscience and the lessons learned along the way to keep us on track. And in the process, we’re left with a collection of fading memories of people and places we’ve experienced along the way that have in so many ways formed the very fabric of our being. Despite a lifetime spent collecting them, with very few exceptions the countless acquaintances we’ve encountered along the way will have long since forgotten us in the passage of time. As much as our faculty will permit, we relish the retrospect whether it be a little league home run or the saving of a life. Despite how distant those memories become we’re each a willing and captive audience to the playback.

For many of us, it’s a smell or a song that add color and texture to the places of our past. The lingering aroma of an aunt’s cream candy curing in her cool dark garage pantry or maybe it’s Tommy James and the Shondell’s soothingly melodic “Crystal Blue Persuasion” playing on the radio in Mom’s ’62 AMC Rambler with its "Flash-O-Matic” push-button transmission. However seemingly insignificant in the passage of time, each of these little nuggets make our vivid recollections of the past possible.

Maybe one of the most powerful conveyances of both the past and present and a constant companion to introspect and inspiration, music gives us each a handle with which to hang on to the past, a means of cherry-picking moments we’ve both relished or regretted along the way. As a melody rekindles a moment, we’re able to reflect and get some perspective. With eclectic tastes ranging from Jimi Hendrix to James Taylor, as with myself it’s clear that we each have a fondness and identity with a genre or flavor of music. For my brothers and I growing up, JT’s “Mud Slide Slim” remains more a family definitive than a casual classic. And for yours truly, singing every word to a raucous group of weekend pirates under a star-littered sky while anchored off of Dry Tortugas is as much a religious experience as any other. That being said, there was nothing stopping us from grooving to some soul along the way. Al Green and Marvin Gaye both had equal play and as the tequila began to flow, it was on to the sounds of Santana before we settled in to Gregory Isaacs’ “Night Nurse” and a litany of classics till the last soul stirred.

Even the far-reaches of early childhood can on occasion provide a great source for nostalgia-rich recollections. And while only providing perhaps the smallest measure of intrigue for those you share them with, they often serve as a great left over dish from the past for those recalling them. One early memory takes me back to the ring of a school bell at Poinciana Elementary school in 1970’s Key West, fifth grade to be exact. Like a starting gun, we scrambled to the cluttered hallways and swarmed outside to meet the Snow Cone man perched next to his three-wheeled Cushman, to buy a treat for the bike ride home. A kind old Cuban gentleman of few words, like clockwork he would crank out dozens of perfectly drawn multi-flavored fifteen cent snow cones as we all maneuvered for a position in line. He usually had some salsa music playing low on a small battery-powered AM radio that he propped up just behind the ice cooler. His actual name escapes me now but the Snow Cone man was an important part of our daily routine as kids growing up in the Keys. It was there that I had my first opportunity to earn favor with the fairer sex as I without hesitation ordered up a second cone one day for Mimi Sawyer – a girl I would just a couple of years later steal my very first kiss from.

We all have literally thousands of similar memories, most of which lay in stasis like shelves of dust covered books – each a fond or occasionally disturbing distant memory. We’ve all been there. Invariably a trigger comes along from time to time to float the occasional gem to the surface so that we can savor it once again.

The human mind truly is a marvel, capable of boundless capacity but caveated with a quirky tendency to slip its gears on occasion. Some of us can solve complex problems while at the same time forget where we left our keys. I like to think of the mind as a knife that sharpens over a period of time with regular use but even with the greatest care eventually begins to lose its edge.        

 It’s probably fair to say that once our ambitions and accomplishments have run their course what remains is a single desire when it’s all said and done – to achieve a lasting and endeared legacy. As mere mortals, it’s our version of immortality and how we live our lives to earn it is entirely up to us. There will certainly be people and events along the way that will influence our perspective and resolve to make our mark upon the world before it bids us our final adieu - hopefully we will have the presence of mind to appreciate those course corrections along the way.

And much as a sound conscious offers sound slumber, our journey through life is often far more rewarding when influenced by our humanity. A good friend of mine once shared with me how he would occasionally mix things up a bit by doing something a little extraordinary whenever the opportunity presented itself - a simple act of kindness to fuel him through the mundane and often frustrating reality that we all grapple with in our daily existence. Glancing into his rearview mirror in a fast food drive-through, he spied a young mother and her three small children idling behind him in a rusty rattle trap, about to treat themselves with money they really didn’t have. As he wrapped up his transaction with the cashier he’d pay her bill as well and quietly drive away. He did similar deeds at various times to help folks out while also preserving their dignity in the process. I like to refer to it as an ongoing “humanity restoration project”. We’re often so caught up in the act of consuming that we often cheat ourselves of maybe the most rewarding part of being human – the act of giving.

I was fortunate enough to befriend another kind soul - Mike, a general contractor from Seattle who was working a big painting project on the local military base in Anchorage Alaska where I found myself as a serviceman in the early 1980’s. As a nineteen year old newlywed father, times were tough and it was made worse by the fact that we found ourselves with no wheels during the height of an Alaskan winter. Long walks in subzero weather and several feet of snow was miserable, if not a great character building experience! Mike had just gotten home from work one evening in time to spot me walking up Muldoon Avenue when he had a thought.

As I got within shouting distance, he asked me to come upstairs for a beer. As I walked into his apartment, his wife Rowe sent a warm smile in my direction as she finished up dinner. After shedding my parka and boots, Mike asked me to take a load off on the living room couch and we started some small talk. He jokingly asked if I was fond of the outdoors because whenever he saw me, I was there! I told him I’d like to see a lot less of it but it wasn’t really in the cards at the moment – owning a vehicle of my own at that point was pure fantasy. I guess he felt that was a good time to spring it on me and so he did. He asked what I thought of his small fleet of pickup trucks that he and his crew had bought for the six month stay in Alaska and if there was one in particular that I had taken a liking to.

He had masked his intentions so well that I was still oblivious as to where this conversation was going – it had simply never occurred to me that someone could or would do what he was about to do for me. I told him that I kind of favored his red 1974 Chevy Cheyenne C10. It was in really good shape, had a nice set of snow-grade Cepek’s on her and made for an excellent Alaska vehicle. With only a moment’s pause, he said “she’s yours”. Leaving the couch long enough to sift through multiple sets of keys on the kitchen bar, he threw me a set and told me the truck was mine. I sat there stunned for a moment. The deep lines in Mike’s rugged, bearded face, along with his squinty blue eyes began to break into a smile – he knew at that moment that he was freeing me from the bonds of misery and more importantly, doing my small young family a huge solid.

Once this incredible act of kindness had finally settled in, I gave him a firm handshake and half hug (Mike, like most other men who embraced their masculinity wasn’t the kind of guy to solicit full frontal hugs from other men) and I began to thank him profusely. Rowe gleaned over at us silently as she opened a couple more ice cold Rainier beers for us - popularly and affectionately known as Vitamin “R” in the Great White North. At the same time, I could barely wait to climb into my “new” truck and fire her up. Instead, we went through a few more beers, signing over the title as we continued talking. Mike and Rowe were special – I had developed a brief but very meaningful relationship with them and while it’s likely that I’ve become a distant memory in their past, I will never forget them nor their act of kindness.  

Aside from great memories that surface on occasion, what really makes this ride through life interesting is that occasional, inevitable life-changing event. We’ve all had one – witnessing the birth of a child, a loved one leaving this world or that incredibly joyous moment when we make or fall in love for the very first time. Even as we slowly succumb to old age, few will ever forget that first deep kiss that eventually led to the most intimate of encounters as innocence yielded to a welling tsunami of heated passion. I think few will argue that sex remains one of our greatest perks in life and a regular healthy dose of it is perhaps the most powerful elixir for mind, body and spirit. From that very first awkward teenaged encounter to the regretfully few windows of opportunity that present themselves once life’s complexities have set in, there is simply nothing quite like it. When the ingredients of sex remain equal heaping measures of love and passion – it remains a favored past time for every living soul who has ever experienced it.

Equally moving, a new parent never forgets their child’s first utterance of “momma” or “daddy”. It’s at that very moment that you realize that you are here for a greater purpose. Validation comes many years later as those small children grow into adults who become, despite the occasional ups and downs that life throws at us, among your best life-long friends.

The fact remains that at some point in our lives we’ll each be confronted with a defining moment, one where we’ll discover what we’re really made of - something that for a few indelible moments shakes our foundation and pries our grip from our collective comfort zones. And as unpredictable as the breeze, that unscripted moment will in all likelihood present itself when we least expect it.

In life’s mixed bag, sadly, we’ll also at some point likely be faced with far more difficult moments - unspeakable physical trauma, a debilitating disease or the suffering of a loved one – an inevitable reality where we’ll be forced to explore the full measure of our character and the notion of unconditional love. And rest assured, the decisions or indecisions that we make along the way will ultimately determine how prepared we are when that pivotal moment arrives. This certainly doesn’t imply in any way that we’re not up for the challenge. To the contrary, millions of people are courageous and compassionate on a daily basis. But it’s certainly not a simple equation that comes to be. Rather, it is the culmination of how we’re raised, the life we live and the level of humanity we derive from it. Much as an education prepares one for their livelihood, our ability or inability to embrace and express love and compassion will ultimately decide our fate when we need it most. 

The human experience in of itself is ripe with intrigue, and perhaps none more so than the one that we hold unto ourselves. While most of our existence from cradle to grave is centered on lending and currying the favor of others, it is our inner voice that commands us and from which we rely on most for counsel. From the meager beginnings of childhood to the learned station in life when that characteristic blend of knowledge and personality emerges to define us - that complex, highly developed intellect becomes our crowning achievement as individuals.

In a sense, we’re all given a small sack of gold at birth. Not all of us are raised to appreciate that gift; but we’re certainly all appreciative of the fact that, at some point in time we squeezed it in our palm. We know that we’ve been given a unique and incredible opportunity to learn, love, taste, embrace, explore and endure this ride we call Life. From the well spring of youth to the melancholy retrospect of old age where we begin our accounting of how it’s played out for each of us, it’s from there that we play back the memories and realize how incredibly fortunate we are able do so.

That period in our lives where our inner light shines brightest is all too often extinguished for many by a betrayal of our own faculties. That quintessential moment when decades of knowledge, accomplishments and a fountain of wisdom begins to give way to the rigors of age and a progressive, erosive tumble into jumbled recollections; an absence of self and ultimately a haunted reality that envelopes and debilitates even the most assured of one’s former self.

It is at that point in time when we truly lose our own acquaintance – a stranger among ourselves. Our once stolid inner voice of reason yields to a chorus of unfamiliar voices and a world now completely void of familiar way points. A simple trip to the corner grocery, an errand once taken for granted for so many years becomes a frightful journey in a skewed reality. Once familiar faces have become awkwardly inquisitive strangers who grapple with how to engage with what remains of a longtime friend or acquaintance who has lost his way...

Key West - The Early Days

My childhood has always been a largely enjoyable point of reference through the years. A fortuitous series of events enabled some rare experiences that I will always savor. I was born in Key West in the mid-1960s and spent the first 10 years of my life there with my mother Wanda, father Jim and three older brothers David, Rick and Jim. Life in the Florida Keys in those days was much different. Doors were left unlocked, kids ran free across the island (until the street lights came on, a signal that dinner would soon be ready and it was time to head home). It was a relatively brief but impactful period in time for my family, friends and I who were fortunate to live in paradise during that time.

Snorkling off of Thompson's island for lobster, the occasional fishing trip with my father and his friends in the boat with brief stops at the small island outcroppings of Ballast Key, Sand Key and the Marquesas to take a dip and get a short reprieve from the boat. My friend Larry and I would attempt to outrun an afternoon rain squall - a wall of water that quickly raced across the island as we rode our bikes down Eagle Avenue. Many empty lots back then, which have long since become residential homes provided great spots to explore, catch snakes and stake our claim as one of many hideouts across the island. The mangrove wetlands that once surrounded Key West Airport, serving as a nursery for Tarpon and other fisheries are long gone to commercial development and condominiums.

As my brothers each began transitioning into adulthood, my father, a Retired US Navy WWII veteran (served as an ET1 on minesweepers in the South Pacific) was enjoying a second chapter in his professional life with the FAA and suddenly announced an opportunity that would forever change the trajectory of our lives. In 1975, he was informed that a position of interest in Balboa, Panama Canal Zone was suddenly available - we spared no time in packing up and headed to Central America for the next 5 years.

We moved in to Cardenas Village during the summer of 1975 as the Viet Nam war was slowly coming to a close. Ft Clayton, a mere mile away from Cardenas was where the Huey chopper pilots trained for duty in Viet Nam while jungle combat training was conducted at the other numerous military bases that surrounded us in the area. While my departure from my birthplace of Key West was difficult to reconcile initially, I was quick to put it behind me as I discovered the proximity of a jungle, two oceans and at the time the world's largest manmade lake (Gatun) where I would spend countless hours exploring over the next 5 years. I was fortunate to establish a handful of life-long friends during that brief but impactful chapter of my life who will reach out on occasion to reminisce about the times we had there growing up.

Panama was magical but the time there passed far too quickly and we soon found ourselves returning to the States for my father's retirement following 36 years of federal government service. Tragedy would strike only 6 months later as my father decided to take a quick ride on my moped. Rounding the final curve around the block, he took a spill that eventually resulted in two brain surgeries, complete permanent blindness and incapacitation for the remaining 6 years of his life. I was only 16 years old at the time but had to transition into an extended caregiver for my father until I eventually joined the US Air Force at the age of 18 and moved away. Sadly, my father passed only a few years later - robbed by a 5 minute joy ride on a moped of the retired life he so richly deserved.

Deciding more help and support was needed that what was available in Key West, my mother and I moved my father up to Dayton, OH where his extended family lived. It was there that I met who would become the most important person I ever enountered - my soon to be wife of many decades to follow. During a brief neighborhood encounter as she decided to investigate the "new kid" who moved in down the block - we immediately hit it off and she was willingly supportive of my plight with my father. We would marry a year later and begin my 22 year career in the Air Force together with 3-4 year stops in Alaska, Arkansas, Ohio, Japan, Germany and finally Washington DC where I eventually retired in 2003.

I spent another 20 years working in varied capacities in the IT industry, the final 10 years or so at Equinix. I had always feared that I might inherit dementia, which claimed my mother's life. All too aware of the toll it had taken on my wife and I as we cared for her in those final years, it became an eternal preoccupation and concern of mine that my life might at some point as the years passed by begin to manifest the horror show that we knew all too well. And should that be the case, I was certain that our four children would be traumatized in dealing with the effects of the disease and certainly didn't want to put my wife through this again.

As I reflect now, I've come to realize that we must all live our life in the moment and unburden ourselves as best we can with what might happen along the way. That being said, as my wife and I enter our 60's, I remain cognizant of any potential symptoms that might begin to appear and I'm eternally hopeful that they won't. As so aptly stated by Sally Field's character in Forrest Gump, life is very much like a box of chocolates with no will surety of what we're going to get along the way. As we stare down that uncertainty head on, we embrace what remains for us as we eventually complete life's journey - it continues to be a great ride. From the many lessons of the past, I do know this - should life throw one of those regretful curveballs our way, living our lives the right way with a capacity for compassion long before then will prepare us for that moment when we need it most. I'm eternally grateful that whatever life should decide to throw our way, I couldn't be better equipped to manage it with my best friend and lifelong partner Priscilla.