Old age realizes the dreams of youth: look at Dean Swift;
in his youth he built an asylum for the insane, in his old age he was himself an inmate.
: Soren Kierkegaard (1813–1855), Danish philosopher

Chapter One: Dementia’s Legal Sting

September 11, 2002

It had been a quiet day at my coffee shop. The people who had come in were reminiscing about the 9-11 tragedy only a year before.  Where they were, what they were doing… just like people tend to do.  Now that I was home, I too remembered that I was cleaning the kitchen when I heard the news.

My mother lived with us at the time and commented that she was “scared of planes and you couldn’t pay her to get on one.  People are so stupid.”

Experts say that dementia takes personalities to extremes – gentle dispositions grow softer, harsh temperaments become caustic.  My mother, always judgmental, easily blamed the world-changing horrors of the collapse of the twin towers in NYC on flight-goers’ lack of caution.  I didn’t answer her at the time, thinking – hoping? – that the symptoms of her disease would serve a kind purpose, that she wouldn’t remember the painful insensitivity of her remarks.  I also prayed she wouldn’t repeat her comments to anyone who might be hurt by them.

Taking care of my mother and trying to protect my family and others from the savagery of some of her outbursts and behaviors had become an exhausting, full-time job.  I confess to guilty relief that she had chosen to move out and that I was alone in the kitchen and with my memories.

The doorbell burst the quiet and brought me back to the present.  A young man standing on the porch asked:

“Are you Sue St. Clair?”

“Yes.”

“These are for you.”  He handed me some folded papers.

“Is Stan home?”

“No.”

“When do you expect him?” He tapped additional papers still in his hand.

Confused, I asked, “What is this?”

“You’ve been named in a lawsuit.  When do you expect Stan to be home?”

My hands trembled as I looked at my set of papers.  They were official, signed by the Deputy County Clerk, and notarized.

GERTRUDE CONRAD, V.S. STAN ST. CLAIR AND SUE ST. CLAIR,

NOTICE:

‘YOU HAVE BEEN SUED…’

I was in shock, my eyes tearing up.  I could hardly hold the papers in my hand.  In disbelief I told the man, “This is my mother.”  His demeanor softened as he asked about Stan once again...

(c) 2004-2010 Stan and Sue St. Clair