The Lost Kitchen, A Book Review

Miriam Green, author of The Lost Kitchen
and I finally met in person

Last week while waiting for one of the classes to begin at Herzog College's amazing Tanach/Bible Yemei Iyun, I heard my name called. It was Miriam Green, fellow blogger and facebook friend. We finally got to meet in person f2f. I've been a fan of Miriam's blog The Lost Kitchen for the longest time. First of all it's a well-written honest blog. It's posted weekly and follows the saga of Miriam's mother's life with Alzheimer’s. Each post is accompanied by a recipe.

Alzheimer’s and/or one (or more) of the more difficult to diagnose/name dementias dominated both my parents' final years, so I'm neither objective nor inexperienced when it comes to the topic.

The Lost Kitchen is a brilliant way of titling the blog, book and Miriam's mother, Naomi. One of the first skills many people lose is caring for themselves, knowing what to shop for, remembering to turn off the stove, prepare food and even remembering to eat.

Green's book opens with her mother's diagnosis of Alzheimer’s. I was really spooked by the fact that her mother was younger than I am now. We're spared the difficult period before that made them suspect that something was very wrong and getting worse. The focus of The Lost Kitchen is how Jack, her father, and Miriam deal with the constant deterioration, challenges and dilemmas of Naomi's Alzheimer’s. Miriam's original idea was to write a cookbook chronicling Jack's unplanned introduction to cooking and the recipes he has adopted for himself as cook.

Even though I'm a loyal follower of the The Lost Kitchen blog, I found reading the book to be a new experience. I wasn't bored. The Lost Kitchen book isn't a simple compilation of the blog. Besides recipes, there are poems. If you like the blog, you'll love the book. And if you've never read the blog you'll find the book a wonderful loving memoir following the gradual loss of a loving mother.

The Lost Kitchen begins after the diagnosis, when Jack is still able to care for Naomi.  At first he manages with Miriam's weekly visits, but then as the Alzheimer’s gets worse, it's clear he needs more help and then even more. Their story is honestly and sensitively told by Miriam.

Dealing with Alzheimer’s seems to be a growing genre as people live longer, and their bodies outlive their cognitive abilities. I reviewed My Mom My Hero by Lisa Hirsch a few years ago, which was written by a childhood friend. Last I heard, her mother is still alive.

I recommend reading The Lost Kitchen, whether you've had to deal with a loved one's Alzheimer’s or any other form of dementia or not. After a half a century in Israel, I sometimes forget that there's a whole other world out there in other countries, and life can be very different. The Lost Kitchen is also a Jewish Israeli story, because the assistance, facilities, society and health care system are probably specific to Israel. Of course the family dynamics and dementia itself, no matter what the specific diagnosis are international. Dementia can happen to anyone, anyplace and any age, due to all sorts of causes.

Miriam Green has written a valuable and unique book, a universal story. As a bonus you get a cookbook, which is valuable on its own. Unlike many cookbooks, this one has easy to follow recipes, without too many exotic, hard to find ingredients. The poems add a gentle touch. Yes, if I haven't been clear, I highly recommend buying The Lost Kitchen for yourself or as a gift for others.

Product details

• Paperback: 274 pages
• Publisher: Black Opal Books (May 4, 2019)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 1644370816
• ISBN-13: 978-1644370810
• Product Dimensions: 5.2 x 0.7 x 8 inches
• Shipping Weight: 11.4 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)

Remembering My Father

I just posted about my father, three years after his death, on Shiloh Musings.
My Father, Sidney Spiegelman, Z"L, 3 Years
You can read about him there.

BTW, in one of those strange quirks of Halacha, Jewish Law, I got up from shiva before he was actually buried.

Two Years Since My Father Died...

Sidney Spiegelman, Z"L, 1920- 2016

It's now two years since my father, Sidney Spiegelman, passed away.

His generation was larger than life.

All of my grandparents made their ways from Eastern Europe to New York when they were young. Both of my parents were born in Brooklyn, New York. So was I, but we moved to Bell Park Gardens, Bayside, NY when I was an infant.

My father's father came from Nesielsk, Poland. His family had a business there, and within a few years, most of them started businesses in New York, also. My father's mother was born in Rogotshov, Belarus, the second of six daughters. Even though my great-grandfather Brynien had little money, he hired a teacher so his daughters would have an education. All of my father's grandparents eventually moved to New York, so he grew up within two large clans of grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins.

My father was the second son born, a year and a half after his older brother. They spoke Yiddish until they began school. Around then their younger sister was born. All of them were expected to succeed and get good educations. They all went to college, which was rare for that generation.

My father studied Accounting  in City College and did it as quickly as he could. He wanted to have an academic degree before enlisting in the United States Navy. World War Two had already begun, and he didn't want to be an ordinary soldier.

In order to get the position he wanted, my father also had to hide the weakness in his left eye, which he did. He was trained to use and repair radar on the enormous Navy ships, which was a new technology. They discovered that the radar needed care and repairs to what had been predicted, but his problem solving talents were perfect for the challenges.

After the war, he married my mother, Shirley Shankman, whom he first met before going overseas. No, they hadn't kept in touch while he was serving in the Navy. They took advantage of the Veterans Benefits and moved to Bell Park Gardens when I was a baby. We were living there when my brother and sister were born. My father worked for the New York State Insurance Fund, studied for his CPA certification and began a private practice as an accountant. In 1962, we moved to Great Neck, NY.

My father didn't have hobbies and never watched sports. He was not a spectator. When he had the opportunity he liked to swim. My father liked watching the news and read the New York Times everyday.

Although my father was a proud Jew and called "The Jew" when in the Navy, religious practice didn't appeal to him. He was secular by nature. It was incomprehensible to him that I, his daughter, had become religious. Once he got to see Israel, he was attracted to the dynamic growth and could understand our living here.

A few years before his death, my father lived here in Shiloh with us. At that point my mother was in early stages of dementia and couldn't care for him. We had hoped that she, too, would come to Israel to live. But when she insisted on living near my sister in Arizona, that was set up for both of them. My older son and I took him to join her in Arizona, where they both died. They are buried in New York.

One Year, May His Memory Be A Blessing

Now our family calendar has a new pre-Passover "event" to remember. Last year just a few days before Passover I got the call from my sister in Arizona that our father had just passed away. In a sense it had been expected, but he had always recovered from illness, injury etcetera, so I really thought that he'd pull it off again.

Sidney Spiegelman, 1920-2016

He had outlived my mother and his siblings and the rest of the aunts and uncles of all my first cousins.

My father was the middle of three children, with an older brother and younger sister. He and his siblings were born in Brooklyn, NY to parents who had emigrated from Nasielsk, Poland, and Rogachev, Belarus. He grew up knowing well his grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. Both sides of his family, with the exception of two maternal aunts, had left Europe well before World War Two.

My father and his siblings all went to college. My father studied to be an accountant, and since the war had already begun in Europe rushed to finish his degree, so he could be an officer in the Navy. He worked with radar on the ships in the Pacific but didn't like to talk about any war experiences. It wasn't until the year he lived with us here and Shiloh and spent time with a neighbor of his generation and similar background, that we heard stories. They, davka, died just a month apart.

After the war, my parents married and my father began working as an accountant for the NY State Insurance Fund. He would audit businesses and didn't have a desk job. That suited him fine, since he worked quickly and managed the quantity of "cases" in less than than week. In his spare time, he began getting private clients and studying for his CPA exams. His aim was to work for himself.  We lived in Bell Park Gardens, Bayside, NY, where my younger brother and sister were born, with lots of other young families, at the time.

In the summer of 1962, former neighbors told my parents of a great deal, a small house in Great Neck at a bargain price. They bought it. I was shocked, because I was away in camp at the time and hadn't a clue. Then suddenly, at work my father was to be promoted to a supervisory desk job. This was actually bad news, because he wouldn't have the time and freedom to run his own business. He would have full-time office hours. So, just then, with the expenses of a new home, a couple of years before he had planned and just short of a pension, my father had to leave his government job and really hustle.

He did alright as a CPA, but besides sharing a secretary with another few in a shared office, he didn't form a big company with workers.

I'm not exactly sure when my father sold his practice. After a number of years, as both my parents aged and couldn't take care of themselves, we knew that they'd have to leave their home. Like many, they hated the idea and wouldn't downsize when they were capable of making decisions themselves. Then one time when my mother fell and had to be in rehab for a few weeks, my father ended up with us for almost a year. My mother couldn't take care of herself, certainly not both of them.

Finally, my mother agreed to move to Arizona near my sister, so my sister took care of clearing the house and moving her. My older son and I then took my father to join her. And that's where they spent the rest of their lives together. My sister was nearby, and I visited at least once a year, sometimes more. And my children also visited as much as they could, considering distance and expense.

My mother died almost four years ago, less than three years before my father. They both lived longer than their parents and all siblings.

My children and oldest grandchildren have strong memories of them. And so do my cousins and their children. Basically, that's all we leave in this world, memories.

BDE, Sidney Spiegelman, Z"L, 1920-2016, As An Israeli

My late father and I on the plane to Israel when he made aliyah in 2009



One of the reasons I was glad to be privileged to sit shiva for my my father here in Shiloh is because he lived here with us for close to a year and had many friends.

Around Rosh Hashana of 2009, my mother had fallen badly and needed to be in rehab for a month. My father was in no condition to live on his own, so it was decided that I would bring him on aliyah, which is blogged about quite a bit way back when.

Aliyah To The Land of Israel At 89
It certainly wasn't an easy thing, but with the help and support of my children, husband, cousins and neighbors, I think we gave my father a wonderful experience. His brains cells may not have remembered it for long, but for sure my family here and neighbors certainly do. Many of the neighbors who came these past few days to menachem avel, comfort the mourner told me how much they had liked him and admired him.

Casting A Shadow


We had planned/expected/hoped to have my mother along with him here in Israel within a few months, but it just didn't happen. That's why after less than a year, we packed all but his heavy winter coat and took him to live in Arizona, with my mother and near my sister, who then had responsibility for both my parents.

I Explained That They Were Like Spies


But while my father was here in Shiloh he joined in all of our activities. One was the annual visit of "the spies."

Dementia is a very strange and variable condition. I'll have to blog more about it at a later time, but I must say that although my father hadn't been able to take full responsibility for himself for many years before he came to live with us, his "social genes/brain cells" were unaffected. Many people who got to know him during the time he had lived with us were completely unaware that he suffered from dementia. He could still win playing cards. His game of choice was "Casino," which requires planning and addition. That was a favorite in his family for kids and suited his CPA mind.

Keeping Busy, Arts, Crafts and Exercise


I must say that the father I had live with us was not the same father who had raised me. When I was growing up he was busy and stressed out working, supporting the family. But decades later--remember that I was already a grandmother--I got to meet a really wonderful loving person. I had to stop working that year, and although we really didn't have enough income to live on, it was a year of great value for the entire family and our Shiloh neighborhood.

My Father, Sidney Spiegelman, Z"L

I am sitting shiva for my father until Friday noon. His funeral will be in New York on Friday, but I'm not traveling in for it.

My parents and I over ten years ago or more, maybe even twenty years ago. In a few months it will be three years since my mother, Shirley Spiegelman, passed away.



I was always certain that my father would live forever. He was a powerful person in his way, and he survived war and illnesses, even recently. The doctors were amazed by him. But in the end, he had enough. He never liked being idle. He wasn't a spectator and didn't watch sports at all. I remember that a cousin's husband kept trying to convince him to bring my brother to watch a baseball game with him and his sons. He finally did it once, but that was it. My father liked to be active. Once he and I went with a friend of his and his daughters on a fishing trip. They rented a boat and we caught fish to bring back home to cook. I wouldn't touch the live bait, so he'd put the bait on on the hook, and I fished and even caught some. That was fun.

Sitting in an audience watching wasn't his thing, except if it was to accompany my mother to a play. She loved the theater. I don't know how much he enjoyed watching plays, but he loved my mother and would go wherever she went. During one of my visits to New York without my kids, when my parents were still functioning pretty well, we went to a folk music production on the shore of Steppingstone Park in Great Neck. It was one of those settings in which you sat in your own picnic/beach chairs you had brought along. My father immediately fell asleep and slept through the entire show. Afterwards he complained about the music, but he would not have been happy staying home alone. He liked people and was never put off by strangers.

We have my father's album from the time he was in the US Navy. He was on the western, the Pacific front and went to Japan, Manila and more. He returned home rather cynical about war and fighting. Before being drafted he had rushed himself through City College, NYC, because he knew that war and military service was imminent. He wanted to be an officer in the US Navy, to enlist and be able to choose the basic type of service, rather being drafted and be at the mercy of the military bureaucracy. For that he needed more than the university degree, he needed to find a way to hide the fact that one of his eyes was much weaker than the other. And that, too, he succeeded in doing.

The US Navy trained my father in electrical engineering, and on the ships he had to figure out how to assemble, use and repair radar. "Problem solving" was a specialty. Also when he did his CPA exam as an accountant, the first section he managed to pass was the "problem solving," not the laws and basic calculations. He could figure things out.

Sidney Spiegelman, 1920-2016, 5680-5776

Baruch Dayan Haemet ברוך דיין האמת 

 My father, Sidney Spiegelman, passed away yesterday after a long active life.

He was born in Brooklyn, NY, to parents born in Nasielsk, Poland and Rogotshov, Belarus.

During World War Two, my father served in the United States Navy and was involved with early radar systems, assembling and running them from the ships in the Pacific Ocean. He was saved from almost certain death when unexpectedly transferred from the USS Indianapolis just weeks before it was torpedoed. He told me that his transfer had been due to the fact that he was a good card player, learned from his father. Apparently there had been informal gambling--playing for money among the crew, and some higher up officers owed him a lot. They had him transferred to avoid payment.

After the war, he married my mother, Shirley Shankman, also of Brooklyn, whom he had met briefly before being drafted. They were married from March, 1948 until her death in June, 2013, sixty-five years. He adored her to the end.

I'll write more in later posts, Gd willing. My father's funeral will be on Friday, before Passover, in New York. Since I can't travel in for it, I'm sitting shiva at home in Shiloh at present until before the Holiday.

Blogging About Elderly Parents

my father walking around our Shiloh neighborhood

on the plane to Israel

Six years ago we had my father living with us for almost a year. I blogged about it a lot. Aliyah To The Land of Israel At 89, Keeping Busy, Arts, Crafts and Exercise, Casting A Shadow, I DID It! The latest episode in the saga of my father's aliyah at 89 and more. In the end, my mother (who was supposed to have joined him in Israel when health permitted) and sister decided that they would be better off in Arizona near my sister, so my son and I took him there. That's where he now is, in a "memory center."

visiting my parents in
Arizona

When he was living with us, I didn't know of any other blogs about taking care of the elderly, coping with dementia and all it entails. Now I follow two blogs about elderly senile (not the modern pc term) parents. One is a very interesting one that combines the saga of the blogger's deteriorating mother with recipes,  The Lost Kitchen: An Alzheimer's Memoir and Cookbook, and the other,  Alzheimer's - My Mom My Hero, which is davka written by a childhood friend of mine. We were even nextdoor neighbors in Great Neck our teens; our parents had been close friends for about forty years beginning in Bell Park Gardens, Bayside, NY, and then until hers moved to Florida.

There are dozens of types of dementia and how it affects the person. No two are identical, though there are patterns and signs that we should be aware of. And sometimes this disability develops so slowly affecting very isolated brain cells that the effect is very subtle and hard and traumatic to recognize.

My Mom My Hero, Book Review

First of all, I must admit that there's nothing objective about my relationship to this book, My Mom My Hero, by Lisa Hirsch. It was due to Hirsch's publicizing the book on a facebook page that I rediscovered Lisa and renewed our friendship. Lisa and I had grown up together in Bell Park Gardens, Bayside, NY and then were next-door neighbors in Great Neck, NY. Her parents were family friends.

Now that I've admitted this, I must tell you about the book. It's based on the journal-like blog, Alzheimer's - My Mom My Hero, Lisa has been writing about how she deals with her mother Ruth's Alzheimer’s disease. Lisa writes with great openness and honesty, not only about her mother today but about her childhood relationship with her.

Many of us, of our generation, who have surviving parents are dealing with the same sort of problems and situations. Most frequently, the brain does not stay as sharp as the body. In other cases, it's the body that can no longer function as well as the brain. Old age is no picnic for sure, and dealing with parents who are no longer capable of making basic decisions or care for themselves is a very complicated situation. My siblings and I have also been dealing with these issues. Our father is now in what's called a "memory center," where he is cared for 24/7. He's physically hearty, but needs help with his daily care.

Ruth Elian, Lisa's mother, still has her sense of humor, although she sometimes forgets the name of her daughter. Lisa chronicles her vists and phone calls. This is not a depressing book. It's joyful and a must-read, especially for those who are facing or expecting to face such a situation. Actually, it's a book that everyone should read. There's a lot of wisdom. It's written simply and honestly.

• Paperback: 200 pages
• Publisher: Logan Shawn Press (March 15, 2013)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 0615773982
• ISBN-13: 978-0615773988
• Product Dimensions: 5 x 0.5 x 8 inches
• Shipping Weight: 8.5 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
• File Size: 888 KB
• Print Length: 202 pages
• Page Numbers Source ISBN: 0615773982
• Simultaneous Device Usage: Unlimited
• Publisher: Logan Shawn Press (March 8, 2013)
• Sold by: Amazon Digital Services, Inc.
• Language: English
• ASIN: B00BZC9LBQ
• Text-to-Speech: Enabled 
• X-Ray:
  Enabled 
• Word Wise: Enabled
• Lending: Not Enabled

I can't sleep...

...so I'm doing my nails.

After I posted the previous post, I washed the dishes etc, tweaked the packing, then I went to bed...

but I couldn't fall asleep.  I kept thinking of all sorts of things I still have to do. 

So, I packed some herbal tea for the planes, yes, not a typo, more than one plane.    I rinsed apples and some cucumbers.

Soon it's going to be time to get up.

I don't like morning flights.

When the kids were little and we went/flew to NY, I'd pull these all-nighters to pack etc, but I packed a couple of days ago.

I can't sleep.

Trying to Calm Down

1. Nowadays many people do all the flight arrangements online.
2. When I called British Airways, the woman said that I can do things online.
3. The British Airways site is very easy to use, and I did fix the food to kosher.
4. I shouldn't have any reason to panic over that part, even though their office won't be open until we'll already be in the air.

Almost everything is packed, including the eticket, though I have to go through my flight pouch and take out old tickets etc.  I have a special flight pouch for tickets, passports etc which I wear in addition to my usual money and camera pouches.  I end up looking like a kangaroo carrying quintuplets.

My book-supplier neighbor was over yesterday with a selection of books.  I packed two in the flight bag and two in the suitcase.  I'm sure I can get more reading material in NY from people who have books to get rid of.  I'd love that "Castle" book, written as if it's the book the TV character wrote.  But it's still a bestseller.

Of course, noshes must be packed at the last minute, or night before.  A big disadvantage of not going El Al is that you need more noshes.  I have to bring cookies for my father, because BA's won't be kosher.  The nosherie on El Al is kosher.

Only one (as two) cousin confirmed a date to meet. The rest of the NY visit will have to be planned when I'm in AZ.  Thank G-d for cellphones.  I hope my USA one will be OK.

G-d willing, in another hour and a half, I'll be in the pool.  The kids are coming today to see my father again, at least some of them.  I wonder if I should have my husband buy bourekas.  That's what I served last week for late lunch.  For many years, when they were still home or at least home for Shabbat, that was the Friday menu.  Potato bourekas with cottage cheese and big pieces of salad.

A few neighbors came over yesterday to wish my father good luck.

I've made a ridiculous amount of typos this morning.  I'm glad I have the google toolbar with spellcheck.

Until The Coffee Kicked In

I woke up totally foggy-brained this morning.  Could it be because I got such little exercise and too much stress yesterday?

As we're getting  closer to departure, I'm getting more hysterical.  Taking my father to Israel was much easier.  Of course all the Nefesh b'Nefesh and Jewish Agency personnel who had to do their bureaucratic miracles in record time may not agree on that, but I find that packing up his Israeli life and getting him ready for Arizona aren't that easy. 

My daughter came yesterday to help with the actual packing and sorting through clothes to see what we really don't have to send with him.  He hasn't worn short-sleeved shirts for years, between trying to prevent more skin cancer and feeling cold, so any shirt which can't be used as an undershirt will stay here.  If my sons don't want them, we'll give them to a g'mach, one of those charity stores where people can buy clothes for very minimal prices.

About my own packing, I've done it "in my head," meaning I'm constantly mulling over what to take.  I'll probably do the basic packing today.  It's just that too many days in a suitcase isn't all that great for clothes, especially synthetics, but tomorrow will be full of pre-Shabbat and last visits by the kids.  I hope for photo-ops with my father and them.  Printing and framing I'll have to do in Arizona.  I'm the one people generally call for large family portraits.  I'll have to ask a neighbor to come by.

I still have to arrange a ride to the airport and sign up for the American Airlines frequent flyer club. 

I feel the coffee finally and it's good.  Now for my day...

Fear of Change

Dark becomes light...
Well, I have this gorgeous picture I took, but blogger isn't cooperating again.

My parents waited too long for their move out of the house.  I don't think that either will get full enjoyment from the assisted living place.  It's very sad.

My in-laws died more suddenly, a bit younger and in better shape, so we (and my sister-in-law and her family) didn't go through what we're (including of course my sister and her family) going through now.  Also the grandchildren have better memories of my in-laws because they died with all their marbles.

This should be a lesson, a wake-up call for all of us. 

"Old age isn't for sissies" may be true, but it's worse even watching it in others.  Very sad...

Packing Up

This coming week we'll be packing up my father's things so he can move to Arizona.  He's desperate to reunite with my mother but not at all happy about Arizona.  He really likes it here in Shiloh where the community has been so welcoming and friendly.

I'm not sending a lot of his clothes, because he gained weight here and his old pants are too tight.  Here he eats three meals and snacks, while before he came he barely ate two meals a day and fewer snacks.  Also, he's very sensitive to the cold, so it doesn't seem sensible to send him with short sleeved shirts he doesn't wear.  Yes, Arizona is hot, but it's air-conditioned, too, making it chilly.

He came with so many pairs of shoes they stopped me at customs.  I don't think the shoes are comfortable, so I won't send them back.  He'll have to get new shoes in AZ.

It's sad that he's going.  The kids are coming over before Shabbat to see him and make him an early 90th birthday.

Is it Really Thursday, Already?

This week has sped by.  I guess it's because I had to take my father to Jerusalem twice.  The assisted living place in AZ demands a TB test which is a two stage procedure.  First they pricked him with something and then two days letter they check to see how the skin reacts.

Of course since he's very elderly, almost 90 (August 9,) his skin is very thin and sensitive.  Also, he's on blood thinners, so he had an ugly dark blue-purple thing where he was pricked.  The nurse felt it for a rash and declared him clean, negative.  I told her that the test was for America, so she brought out an English report form in addition to the standard Hebrew.

That second trip was yesterday and it really knocked my father out.  He enjoyed looking out the car window and seeing Jerusalem.  He was also so happy to return home to Shiloh.  The flight to Arizona will be a lot longer and more exhausting.  That's why my elder son will be coming along with us.

I've already started cleaning for Shabbat, since my married daughter plans on coming with the family, and Friday afternoon the whole crew will be over to see their "grandpa."  Today I have to cook some of the side dishes besides the meat and poultry, since I'll be busy on Friday.  I  also have to launder the linens which haven't been used for months.  They've been on the beds.  I'll try to put most in the final rinse cycle to save time and water.

A neighbor will be over so I can go to the pool this morning, G-d willing.

Next week we pack and get rid of the clothes my father won't be wearing again.  Busy day and week...

My Fault

Today, after my father got up, showered, dressed etc, he was acting very out of it, more than the usual until breakfast kicks in.  I decided to check the hearing aids to make sure the batteries were still working.  I took the first one out and realized that I had never turned it on.  Then I checked the second, the same.

Oops! My fault. 

"Off" hearing aids in the ears diminish hearing.

Taking care of my elderly father is always a challenge, and sometimes I'm the problem.

"I Remember Seeing The Original."

I was a bit trepidant about my choice for the today's Movie Club, "Good Night and Good Luck."  There's lots of talking and no real action. 

My father doesn't always follow things.  He's missing a few brain cells, no, not Alzheimer's.  There's a big difference in types of dementia.  His is from an aneurysm and hardening of the arteries, not a deterioration of the brain.  The cells which remain are very intelligent.  Sometimes he amazes us with his intelligence and memory.

I make him choose which direction for our walk, and he makes a point of varying it:

"Yesterday we went this way, so we'll go that way today."

Recently, he is enjoying watching the news less and television shows even less than the news.  But he's not the only one in the group, and I'm running out of movies to show.

He followed the movie in its entirety, as did the others in the group.  They all remembered when it happened, even the ones who had lived in New Zealand at the time.

Afterwards my father said:

"I Remember Seeing The Original."

I have no doubt that he did,

Thursday, Already?

This week has been speeding by.  I can't believe that it's already Thursday, and I haven't found guests for Shabbat yet.  Maybe I can still catch last week's cancellations.

The chicken is out thawing.  Maybe I'll stuff some peppers again.  That was both easy and impressive when I experimented a few weeks ago.  I'll try to remember to photograph them.

A university student here called the other day saying that she had to spend time with an elderly person as part of her studies and would visit with my father.  She may come over today.  That may be nice.  He needs more company.

New Hearing Aids Help

I guess I shouldn't have taken such a close-up.  This picture isn't very clear.  My father got new hearing aids.  I had been very cynical, doubting as to whether it was worth the investment, since his previous ones didn't seem very effective/helpful.

But as time passed since his old ones broke, I could see the strain of trying to hear what people said causing a depression.  Since my father has been living with us in Shiloh, we have visited HaOzen a few times, and that's where we went for the new hearing aids.  They recommended a model with the mechanism behind the ear and a transparent plastic insert in the ear.  As you can see from the picture, it's barely noticeable and even less noticeable when he's wearing his usual "baseball cap."

The only problem with these new ones is that he can't insert them, remove them or see them.  And of course, there's no way he can change the batteries.  I have to do all those things.  They are among the new skills I've learned since bringing him home to Shiloh.

We no longer have to shout, and the television is at a normal volume.

Easy and Tasty Tofu and Vegetables

Cooking can be easier than calling for take-out deliveries if you have the right food in stock.  I keep serving size pieces of tofu in the freezer, each separately wrapped in a plastic bag, so I can cook a tofu dish without any problems.  (And my tofu doesn't spoil in the freezer as it would if I had kept it in the fridge.)

A couple of weeks ago, I decided to bake instead of the usual saute` in a large covered frying pan or cooking the tofu with leftover vegetables in a small pot.

As you can see, I cut some onion, squash, tomatoes and carrots.  (You can certainly add other vegetables such as peppers, mushrooms, cauliflower, etc.)  Then I placed them all with the still-frozen *tofu, some oil and Tamari (soy) sauce in a baking dish, covered and baked them on a medium heat.

When I could see that the vegetables were cooked, my meal was ready.

I served it with a simple salad.  Yes, I'm a very lazy cook and don't obsess over details.  Meals like these are healthy.  If you don't or can't keep all the fresh vegetables in stock, you may use frozen.  (Check what's written on the bag.  Some frozen, ready to cook vegetables have salt and preservatives.)  Cooking really is easy.  By home-cooking you can control your salt, carbohydrate and sugar intake.

Since my very elderly father has moved in with us, his blood pressure has been steadily going down and we've been reducing medication.

*You can make the same basic recipe using fish, beef or poultry.  Left-over (already cooked, which can also be kept in the freezer) takes less cooking time than raw.  Cheese can also be substituted for the tofu. Personally, I don't eat cheese and haven't served it to my father.  Most cheeses are terribly processed and contain a surprising quantity of salt.