REBECCA

     Rebecca has Alzheimer's.  More accurately, Alzheimer's has Rebecca.  For this once elegant, kind lady would never have willingly submitted to the indignities that this thieving disease imposes.  I learned this sad news when I saw family members this week in a local restaurant.

   I initially met Rebecca and her family in 1991 when I became pastor of their United Methodist congregation.  From then until 2000, when I was reassigned elsewhere, I knew her to be one of my trusted advisers, confidantes, and friends, although she was not a member of the Pastor-Parish Relations Committee, the formal Personnel group. When I was completing the various requirements for Elder, i.e. Ordination in our tradition, Rebecca provided feedback and insights for the many 'hoops' that I needed to satisfy.  Along with Clarice and Lola, two other loving matriarchs of the congregation, she was always a leader in the church's  work and an 'example' for the younger generation--women and men.

    In the years since leaving that community, I have seen her infrequently, most recently at the festivities around weddings of two of her grand-sons.  Last Summer at Seth's wedding, she seemed quite lucid, although other indignities of aging  were 'slowing me down'.  Retrospectively, she was already becoming adept at concealing the early manifestations that have since become obvious.

    Earlier I wrote about people who allow us to 'stand on their shoulders', and hence make it possible for us to 'see further and more clearly', as well as about 'kar-ak-ters', folks whose individuality adds seasoning to the 'vanilla' of the mundane places of life. Rebecca has been such a  person for me. 

    I mentioned that she was 'elegant'.  But that did not preclude her working alongside Scotty in the gritty tasks in their large chicken houses and other farming jobs.  They also liked to 'go places and do things', especially when he still had his own airplane.  A favorite story, often retold, was of their drive to Alaska.  The original plan was for shared driving.  According to Scotty's version, sleepiness overtook her on one monotonous stretch and thereafter he opted to do all the driving.  Ocracoke on the Outer Banks of North Carolina was a longtime favorite fishing destination.

    Books were a passion for her and she read constantly.  When we first met, she worked part time in a bookstore in a nearby mall.  For her, that was like being a child in a candy store.  As Alzheimer's has exacted its toll on her cognitive strengths, her reading fare is no longer of the same depth and literary styles.  No doubt, Rebecca could have written her own book because she and her husband have been raconteurs extraordinaire.

   The many insults to the dignity of one's previous Being that Alzheimer's can bring are now often Rebecca's experience.  Her son and daughter-in-law who live nearby are primary caregivers who know the many challenges described in The Thirty-Six Hour Day, one of the best books about caring for someone with the disease.

    Selfishly, I hope that my earlier efforts to express  appreciation for her influence were adequately conveyed and heard.  Because now, alas, although I know my debt, I also know that she can no longer 'hear' it.  At the risk of sounding trite and trivial,  I am aware that there are several other 'Rebecca's' to whom I would be remiss not to say 'Thank You'.  Do you have any?
    
       Satchel