Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness around the world.

May 18, 2007

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Today’s Stories

~**~**~

 The Little People

Sharon Bryant

"I can't take anymore of this talk about the little people," she said when I answered the phone.

I sighed as I knew another episode had happened to her again.

"I went over to his house to tidy up.  I wanted to vacuum and clean the bathroom and kitchen when he told me not to touch anything, that the little people would do it that night.  I tried again to tell him there is no such thing as little people coming into your house to clean, nor do they live in your attic."

"Get out of my house!" he told me.  "The little people do come and they will clean the house."

Yesterday I got another call.  "You're not going to believe what he's done now," she said.  I asked what happened.

"He has a hole in the hallway wall now.  He told me the little people told him to put cement around the back door so that no one would break in."  I sighed again.  "What am I going to do with him?  He's so bullheaded about these little people, I can't talk to him, he kicks me out of his house," she said.

I don't have the answers.  I don't know what to do.  In ways, some of it is comical, but then knowing what's happening, I know it is a serious problem with him.

Three years ago he had cancer in his eye.  They removed his eye and he was given a glass eye, one he refused to wear.  He told me it doesn't blink so he doesn't want to wear it.  Plus he's lost it in the house before and we had to get on our hands and knees looking under beds, the couch, everywhere to see where the glass eye had rolled.

Now he's experiencing eye floaters.  I have those myself.  Just the other day I was sitting outside in my rocking chair in the sunlight reading a book when eye floaters started on me.  I could see the little black dots moving in front of my eyes, and I followed them when they would veer to the right then disappear. 

He's 88, and in good health except for what is happening to his mind right now.  All of this just began this past winter with him saying the little people moved in with him.

Last Sunday he was eating Easter dinner with his brother and sister when suddenly he said, "There goes one!"  His sister just looked at him and said, "I didn't see anything."  "Well one of the little people just flew by, I don't know how you missed them," he said.  She tried to explain that there is no such thing as little people and he told her to get out of his house. 

Yesterday I did some research on eye floaters.  I know they come in different shapes and to someone who will not listen, I guess they could look like little people flying by, as some floaters are shaped oblong, some look like worms, and some are just dots.

You see, Alzheimer's is beginning to show its mark on him.  He is saying things he normally never would.  There is no one else but his brother and sister left.  His sister lives 10 miles from him and daily she goes out and checks on him.  She's not in the best of health herself, having to fight breast cancer last year.  She gets tired often.  And yet she still finds time to check on her brother daily.

He won't go see the eye doctor who did the surgery on him.  She tries to talk to him about getting a check up and seeing if there is anything that can be done about the eye floaters.  He tells her she's nuts, that the little people live upstairs in the attic, they usually come out at night and they clean his house.

Last week she went over to check on him and he'd taken all the pictures off the wall.  She asked him why he'd done that and he said, "The little people told me they were going to paint the wall, so I had to get it ready for them."  She sighed and sat down, holding her head in her hands and tried once again to tell him this is going too far, that there are NO little people.  He told her to go home to her own place and leave him and his little people alone.

Now the hole that he has put into the hallway wall, that one is a mystery to her.  She asked me to explain how he did it.  He's on a walker and she has no idea how he got the hole in the wall.  Plus the fact that where he put the hole that he claims the little people told him to make and fill with cement, is the wall against the bedroom wall.  She told me even if he could get cement into the house by some miracle, it would run into the bedroom and spread all over the carpeted floor.

In the living room for several years was a huge entertainment center.  It has shelves filled with little mementos of his lifetime with his parents; trinkets, photos, etc.  When she went to the house Monday of this week, the entertainment center was no longer in the living room.  It had been moved to the bedroom.  She asked him who moved it and his reply was, "It's none of your business."

She knows no one comes to his house.  She knows he can't drive.  He can't walk across the highway to the mailbox.  He depends on her for his groceries, paying his bills, taking him to the bank, etc. 

She has no idea HOW he got the entertainment center moved.

"What am I going to do with him?" she asked me.  I told her I don't know.  I don't have the answers.  She tried to talk to him about maybe one day going into a senior center with medical help and he became livid that she would suggest he move from the home he has lived in for many years. 

I have heard different stories about people who are beginning to shows signs of Alzheimer's.  I have met people who have known people with full blown Alzheimer's.  My own father was beginning to shows the signs of it.  It comes in different ways.  It has different levels.  It makes each individual do unusual things in many cases.  But I also know it robs you of your past, present and future.  It is a horrible disease and it is heartbreaking for loved ones to see someone have to endure it.

I don't know what she's going to do with her brother.  I don't know how many holes he will put into the house walls.  But I do know no one on this earth will ever convince him that he has eye floaters instead of little people flying around.

Yesterday he told her, "I don't know what they eat, they never eat anything in the house.  But they are putting something in my coffee."  She saw that he had moved the coffee pot, cups, sugar and cream into his bedroom.

The sad thing also is that he lives in the country.  When he put the hole in the wall, the inner part between the hall wall and the bedroom wall....there were mice.  They are now running all over the house.  He won't let her put a patch over the hole.

In ways, some of the things people do when this disease is claiming their minds is comical.  On the other hand, it is sad.  In his right mind, this man would never talk about little people flying around.  Had anyone ever said that to him before the disease began attacking his mind, he would have told you that you were nuts if you ever mentioned such a thing.  And now he's there in the position of not knowing reality from fantasy.

I read yesterday that sometimes people will make up things to fill in gaps of memory loss.  I don't know if this is what is happening to him.  But if it is a story he's made up, he's made up quite a story.  One that continues every single day when she goes to check up on him. 

I pray she can find help for him.

Sharon Bryant

1946@bellsouth.net

~**~**~

Poetry Corner

~**~**~

 The Joy Of Kindness
Cynthia Groopman

As I walk down the vast highway of life,
It is filled with sorrows, confusion and strife.
But the joy of human kindness appears on the scene,
Lightening my load, soothing my heart with thoughts that are serene.
Through warm radiant smiles kindness is exuded far and wide,
As I am embraced by a comforting helping hand.
The cheerful voice of a friendly hello,
Adds sunshine to my days and inspires my soul to glow.
When trouble seems to be existing everywhere,
A listening ear, a gentle touch and a warm reassuring embrace,
are answers to my prayers.
For the joy of kindness are gifts bestowed to us from God above,
And those are caring, empathy, sharing and unrequited love.


Cynthia Groopman
Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

Copyright ©2004 Cynthia Groopman

 ~**~**~

Computer Woes
Cynthia Groopman

Computer woes bother me,
Annoying and frustrating, as can be.
Outlook Express begins to fail,
Server shuts down blocking email.
Viruses arrive on the scene,
Anti virus equipment is not so keen.
Screen reader's voice is so weak,
Sometimes it refuses to speak.
Then, the computer freezes and is stuck,
Oh, where is my good fortune and luck?
Oh, computer please do not bother me,
Let my time be spent productively.


Cynthia Groopman

Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net
Copyright ©2007 Cynthia Groopman

~**~**~

Oh Weary Soul
Cynthia Groopman

Oh, weary soul,
Clad with aging woes,
How can I help you to smile again.
Once smiles radiantly pranced all about,
Now, in pain and despair you moan and shout.
Where did the years fly?
If I begin to think, I begin to sigh.
A young princess were you,
With eyes sparkling like the bright morning dew.
Now, weary soul, sorrow in thee abides,
To God, I pray for peace and joy,
To comfort and soothe the aches inside.
Cynthia Groopman

Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

Copyright ©2007 Cynthia Groopman

Readers Feedback

 Carol,
    What a delight to find my article in Storytime today.  If anyone does some good in this
world it is you and all the wonderful writers of Storytime.  You all share your wisdom, truth,
and hearts with the world.  I wish all of you nothing but good in your lives.  Wishing you
every joy, Joe

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Clara Westerfer, Mark Crider, Rosanne Catalano, Paula Booher, Kay Seefeldt, Mariane Holbrook, Mary Ellen Grisham, Louise Nomani, Sharon Bryant, Angela Walker, Hart and Helen Dowd, Keith Ready, Ginger Morgenstern, Ellie Braun-Haley, Surinder Jandu, Bob Shaw, Carol Meeks