Poop

Baby Alan

I went out to see Mom again on Wednesday. We sat in the dining room of the facility and talked for awhile. Me, Mom, and her tablemate, Marie. After a bit of time we noticed that the room had cleared out and it was just the three of us sitting there. So I asked one of the employees where everybody had gone. She told me that she didn't know, but maybe it was to the 'Sensory' session over in the fireplace room. Well, that's Mom's favorite place to hang out, next to the fireplace. Mom gets cold very easily and loves getting close to that fireplace. Anyway, we rolled on over there. Mom in front of the fireplace, me in a chair next to the fireplace, and Marie in the chair on the other side of the fireplace. Around the rest of the room were about seven other residents of the facility and two employees. I think the 'Sensory' session is a great idea. Basically what they do is get the old folks to talk, to have a conversation. While one of the employees goes around asking each person if they would like some moisturizer on their hands, the other one asks a few questions of the group. Question one was, did we know that Marie was going to have a birthday next week. Marie is going to be one hundred and four years old. We also learned that Marie has never been married, that she had no children, and that Marie traveled a lot in her life. We learned that another lady, Irene, was now one hundred and one years old. The group learned that my mom had pushed out eleven babies and that I was one of them. And I made a joke about Mom being the youngest old lady in the room. Everybody laughed because Mom is ninety eight.

All this made me think about life, how long you can live, and my first memories as a newly minted human being in 1949. There are two things that I vividly remember from being very, very young. The one that goes furthest back is me in my crib in the bedroom I shared with my older brother and sister. I remember pulling myself up to a standing position so I could look out at the room. My face was even with the crib railing that at one point had cracked and my dad had repaired by bolting the two pieces together. I remember chewing on those bolts, the metallic taste, and my mom coming into the room and telling me to stop sucking on those bolts. My second oldest memory might explain why the word "Poop" keeps popping up in my stories. I remember being put on the child's seat, on the toilet. It was made out of wood and had a canvas belt that was used to strap me into it so I wouldn't fall out. I remember chewing on the end of that belt while I sat there, expected to do my thing in the toilet. I was being toilet trained. After what seemed like a long time, something came out and my mom came into the bathroom to check. She looked down between my legs, into the bowl, and exclaimed, "Good, he made some marbles." It was my first big boy toilet poop.