“Age Disna Come Its Lane…” My Granny used to say.

Last week, as I was walking home from the shops, a neighbour called out to me. “Call the police if you see somebody at my door!”

“Has someone been trying to break into your house?” I asked. I would not have been surprised if this was the case. There have been a few burglaries in the area and someone even tried to break into my house a few years ago. I was at home at the time and I know how unsettling that can be.

But I was very unsettled when my neighbour told me that is was her daughter who had been breaking into her house and had stolen checks, compromising her back account.

I asked her if she’d changed her locks. “Yes! But my daughter STILL gets in!”

I asked her what the police had done about it. She waved her hands vaguely and looked confused.

I suddenly realised that my neighbour was completely changed. For the 20 years we have been neighbours, she had always been impeccably dressed in subdued colours and understated jewelry. She had been full of energy, living happily independent in her small house and was always delighted to chat when we met.

Now I was talking to a dishevelled stranger. The neighbour I had known had gone away. I’d seen her as recently as three weeks before.

I started to feel skeptical about what she had told me about her daughter stealing from her. I did not know her daughter and the fact that my neighbour believed that she was still able to get into the house after she’d had the locks changed alarmed me.

I noticed that my neighbour had a sign indicating she had a home alarm system installed and asked if she activated it at night. “Oh No! It makes too much noise!”

My neighbour was anxious and my questions had added to her confusion.

I visited her the next day and offered to help her in anyway she needed. She’d told me she was going away and needed to prepare to leave her house. But, on that visit, she’d forgotten my name and that we’d talked the day before.

Now, it occurred to me that she might think I’d come to steal from her! Oh dear! I was a stranger in her house and any attempt to help her pack might confuse her further, so I did nothing.

I’ve heard a relative is coming to take her to live with her in another state and will deal with all the logistics of the move.

I’ll say goodbye to her, but I’ve already said goodbye to the neighbour I used to know.

No Jury

I was not required to attend jury duty at Oakland Superior Court on March 13, after all.

I called the court, as instructed, the evening before and the message was that I was not needed for the next morning, but to call again between 11 am and noon on the 13th for further instructions.

Again, I was not required and that is my jury duty completed for a year.

Relief, yes! But annoyance that I’d been fretting over the process and getting there by myself.

I don’t think I’m as independent as I used to think I am. I’ll have to work on this.

Mam

Mam kept a wee diary, in which she recorded a few sentences about what she had done that day.

I saw her writing, every evening, but I never looked at the diary, although she never hid it.

The ‘Collins’ diaries were still there, when I went to Buckie to prepare the house for sale, in 2002. I was tempted to bring them back with me, but in the end, chose to take only one. It’s the diary she wrote in 1965. I was 15 in 1965.

I was miserable in 1965 and I wanted to see myself from her point of view. But I couldn’t bear to read it, when I brought it home to California, and it’s only, in March, 2008, that I’ve looked at it.

So far, from her brief entries, I’ve confirmed what I already suspected about her life. She was as unhappy as I was. She’d lived the whole of her married life in the same house as her mother-in-law.

In the diary, she referred to her mother-in-law as ‘Ma C.’ Mam was always gentle, polite and her describing her mother-in-law as ‘Ma C.’ tells everything about how she felt about her.

Mam was often ill and spent many days in bed that year. She had severe migraine headaches and bilious attacks, which I am sure were stress-induced.

I read only the entry for the corresponding current date and from the beginning of March, she had spent most days in bed.

Even so, she made breakfast for her parents-in-law and lunch for me when I had a break at school. Dad was at sea during the week and oblivious to all this. He did not ever understand the urgency to get his wife a home and kitchen of her own.

I did understand, but I was 15. What could I have done?

Shoes

I wanted/needed summer shoes and sandals, but my search for them was getting akin to finding the Holy Grail.

I was close to getting coconut shells and clopping my way through woods and fields to help in my quest, and I thought I had a better chance of finding a nice shrubbery than footwear.

Stiletto heels are back in fashion as are the contrasting flat shoes and all are designed for young women with narrow feet and who have no concern for their feet or their backs.

Yet, I had a good experience in the Berkeley ‘Walk Shop’, the other day. I asked to have my feet measured, described my shorter right leg, with no ankle bending problem, and the salesman and I worked together to get me shod. This is what I chose; the style is R1702-51. They fitted and I think I’ll limp comfortably in them. They’re pretty!

As we say in Buckie, ‘Better tae be oot the qweets, than oot the fashion!’ (‘Better to twist your ankle than be out of fashion!’)

Bit it’s nae me that ye’ll see on thon stilettos!

Jury Duty

I’ve received a summons to appear at the Superior Court of California in Oakland on March 13.

This is problematic. The main problem is my getting to the courthouse. Richard will be in Washington, DC on that date and I’ve got get myself to the courthouse.

I called the courthouse and explained that I do not drive, don’t live near a BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) station and have problems with the buses. I blogged about the local buses in October last year.

The court clerk didn’t know how to help with my transportation requirements. Surely EVERYONE drives!

She consulted her ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act) manual. Am I blind? If I am, she could supply the court proceedings in Braille. Am I deaf? If I am, she could give a hearing loop.  At least, I think that’s what she said, if I heard her correctly.

Then she was completely flummoxed when I explained that I have the use of only one hand and that I might need assistance with attaching the juror badge, should I be required to attend the court. That wasn’t mentioned in the manual and did that mean that I don’t wear jewelry?

I’d need to get a note from my doctor, she said.

I’ve never consulted a doctor, in all the years I’ve lived in USA, for cerebral palsy. I stopped my six monthly visits with a consultant in Scotland when I was 15.  I thought I was wasting my time, because I knew there was no cure for CP. I chose to ‘get on with it’ and ignore cerebral palsy.

This has always been easier said than done, and my close friends and my husband have patiently borne the brunt of my frustrations.

I am very interested in the discussions of the models of disability; medical model versus social model.

I am not ill.

I just don’t want to depend on the kindness of strangers to pin my juror’s badge and I don’t want a doctor’s note to say I can’t.