Giveaway ends September 29, 2015.
See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.
Giveaway ends September 29, 2015.
See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.
Check out this article written about me and my book, A Slow Slide into Nothing, at:
http://www.saratogian.com/general-news/20150215/author-describes-parents-slide-into-dementia
A fellow writer has published a written interview I did with her on her site. You can check it out at:
You can now follow this link and go directly to my authors page to purchase my book, A Slow Slide Into Nothing in paper back and e-book.
https://www.amazon.com/author/rosemarychristlerenaud
Dear All,
I am very excited to finally realize my dream; I have finished my first book. Written in the beginning, as a series of essays, that allowed my emotions to escape from the confines of my stressed, weary mind and fall across a page in written word. These words eventually transformed into a memoir about the journey my mother and I were on as she slid into the depths of dementia.
I am PROUD to announce my book A Slow Slide Into Nothing is available for pre-order as an e-book on Amazon.com. The actual delivery date will take place on November 8, 2014. Just log onto Amazon and either type in my name or the title of the book. A soft cover traditional book will also be available beginning on November 8.
I truly hope you will take the time to read my book and when you are finished, post a review.
I am asking one more favor; please forward this email to all your friends. My hope is this; my book will make its way into the hands of others who find themselves on their own journey as a caregiver to a loved one with dementia.
Thank You,
Rosemary Christle-Renaud
Dementia touches so many families. Whether the diagnosis is Alzheimer’s, Lewy Body or one of the many varied names dementia goes by, it still affects the same. Memories are lost, loved ones grieve and struggle to face this new reality. My siblings and I were no exception.
Still, out of a family of seven children my mother began calling me for help. I thought my very capable mother was suffering from depression over the loss of my father a few short years before. But, the reality of my mother’s condition and consequently my efforts to help her led to years of sadness, family turmoil, laughter and a relationship that took me by surprise. My book begins with my mother’s life story as a member of the greatest generation and expands to include her last years. It is her story and our story as my mother began and ended her Slow Slide into Nothing.
It is laundry day. A chore I tackle in my household about once a week. Usually, by Thursday, I am in need of clean clothing. Besides, I hate going into the weekend with nothing to wear.
As I walked into my laundry room, a space in the basement converted for this purpose. I found the clothing I had hung to dry just a few short days ago. I looked at the garments hanging there and chuckled. Today I am in a lightweight sweater and jeans as I sit outside writing this essay. Apparently, less than a week before I was still in full summer mode. Here were my bathing suits and cover-ups, my sleeveless tops, my short skirts. And, I distinctly remember being too warm wearing these items. I wondered, why is it, at least here in the northeast that summer so quickly jumps to fall? This year, as many in the past, one day it was eighty something degrees, the next the temperature struggled to get out of the sixties. Our nights have quickly grown cold. In fact, frost watches are up for the northern part of my county. What is up with that?
I find the problem with such a dramatic change in temperature is that my closets, drawers and shoe bins are now cluttered with too many items. I’m afraid to put the summer weather gear away, in case it should warm up again. Still, when it is only forty-eight as I get dressed in the morning, I am hard pressed to put on shorts and a pair of sandals. Consequently, I try to squeeze two seasons of clothing into my storage areas.
It seems to me that summer should slowly fade out. So that by the time you realize it is fall you have gradually become accustomed to cooler temperatures. This would give me time to sort through my fall clothing, deciding what to save or give away. I could nicely store my summer wear, knowing I would not need to drag it out again until late spring. Clutter would not be the name of the game, spilling out overstuffed drawers, struggling to find an empty hanger in a closet that has no more space. I realize these are all very trivial problems. However, still thoughts that crossed my mind today as I sit here in the sun, suddenly feeling too warm for the outfit I have on.
The other day it occurred to me, my life had come full circle.
Recently, my husband and I traveled south to visit my sister and her husband at their lake house in North Carolina. Our first day the guys played golf and my sister and I caught up while enjoying the amazing view of mountains and lake. At sunset, we all climbed into their boat and drove to the middle of the lake to admire the beautiful sight. As we all sat their chatting, having a cocktail, relishing our friendship it dawned on me, this was the first time the four of us had been alone together in over twenty-five years. This very event was what we had dreamt about as young twenty something’s with small children. All those years ago we said to ourselves, someday when we are older we will have time to focus on our relationship again. Someday we will take vacations together. Maybe we will even buy houses beside each other and retire. The guys can play golf and the girls can talk without interruption.
How very surreal to be living your dream, to have it come true. To know we had made it through some difficult times, yet, here we were, just as close, still having as much fun as we did when we were all at Purdue University together.
It is a wonderful accomplishment to have shared a lifetime of experiences with my sister and her husband. I know for a fact that not all siblings remain close and that is why I especially treasure the relationship I share with my sister Roxann. We are sisters and more importantly, friends. I know I count her husband as a friend also. My god! I remember helping him decipher his freshman Purdue schedule by writing it out on a paper plate, apparently the only writing surface we could find. How fortunate we are to have each other, to be able to laugh at past silly memories, to understand why certain incidents cause our eyes to go misty. Friendships that stand the wear and tear of so many years go deep into your very soul.
As I sat in that boat enjoying the view of the sunset and my friends, I understood I could not take this moment or the next few days we had for granted. Who knows how many more times we will have the opportunity to share that dream we all had so many years ago. Life can change in an instant; I think most of us, at least those of us in our fifties, understand this. A moment watching the sunset with the couple I have known the longest in my life was rare indeed. 
I have been living in Upstate New York for twenty-nine years. I love this part of the country and feel this is where I belong. I have blossomed into a true up-stater. However, since I was born and raised in Indiana, my roots were solidly formed there.
Without roots, a plant can not live.The fibrous system underneath the ground gives the plant the stability it needs to remain standing and to grow. I suppose philosophically then, I gained the roots that give me my strength to hold on in life from growing up in Indiana, they ground me and make up so much of who I am. I will forever be that young freckled face girl who grew up in a small town in the middle of the heartland.
For the most part, peoples’ lives follow a similar trajectory. Almost everyone has their fond memories of childhood, their struggles through the teen years and then their gradual emergence into adulthood. My life is no different. I can still hear the call of the cicadas on hot summer nights. I see the twinkling of the fireflies. I feel the sway of the giant willow as I lay in its boughs reading my books. I also feel the sting of adolescence and all of its drama. And, on cool sunny fall days my stomach can flip with the remembered anticipation of a football weekend at Purdue University.
Of course, no memory, at least in my family, is complete without recollections of food. My mother was a great cook. Her fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy were to die for. I still replicate her turkey recipe on Thanksgiving, to rave reviews I might add. Mom could take meager leftovers and create a banquet. In the summer, the more green beans, corn and tomatoes the better and the thought of her potato salad causes my taste buds to drool.
One of Mom’s amazing recipes was an Indiana regional favorite, the breaded pork tenderloin. You would be hard pressed to find these sandwiches outside of the state line.
With all of this in mind, recently, I decided to throw an Indiana party. The main menu consisted of fresh corn on the cob, purchased at a local farmer’s stand. Fresh, ripe, picked from the vine tomatoes. And, for a treat to all of my unsuspecting Upstate New York friends, the infamous breaded pork tenderloin sandwiches.
I use my mother’s recipe. It is not written down but rather was passed to me when I helped her in the kitchen. The recipe consists of:
Pork tenderloin sliced into cutlets and pounded thin with a meat mallet. The cutlets are dipped in flour, egg, and then breaded with Kellogg’s cornflake crumbs. There are many variations on the breading, but my Mom always made them this way and I prefer the cornflake crumbs because it adds a hint of sweetness. The cutlets are then deep-fried or pan friend in oil and served on a bun with the fixings of sliced onion, lettuce, tomato, Miracle Whip, catsup and mustard, similar to hamburgers.
On Friday, my daughter, niece and I spent the afternoon getting the pork tenderloins ready. As you can imagine it is quite a lengthy process. Saturday evening our guests arrived in anticipation as to what exactly an Indiana party would be. They gobbled up the appetizers and managed to go through several beers. Just as the guests were beginning to wonder where the main course was, I fired up three skillets with hot oil and plopped a cutlet into each one. Cooking takes about five minutes and feeding this many people it took me a while to complete my task. As each tenderloin was cooked, I put it on paper towels and into a warm oven, until I had enough to begin calling people into eat. A buffet was laid out and the hungry guest filled their plates with the warm buttered corn on the cob. Then each in turn looked at me for directions as to what to do with breaded piece of pork in front of them. Over the course of the long procession of hungry eaters, I gave out my instructions of how to prepare their sandwich.
The trick to a great breaded pork tenderloin sandwich is the fact that is should far outsize the bun in which it is served. I laughed as my friends tried to cut the tenderloins in half or break them in two to fit on the bun. “No,” I instructed, “the point is to have the pork falling out of the sandwich so you can eat the wonderful sweetness of it first, then get to the bun.”
Hearing the sudden quite as everyone began to eat with gusto I came to believe the Indiana delicacy was a huge hit. My thoughts were confirmed when several guests returned for seconds. And, there were calls for making the party an annual tradition.
Each of us is made up of the lessons we learn throughout our lives. Some can be painful, others a distant glowing memory. Growing up in Indiana I knew early on that I would eventually leave. So many other parts of the country called to me. But, my roots were planted in Indiana and I still dream of the sycamores, On The Banks Of The Wabash Far Away. (Paul Dresser)
Summer in upstate New York, especially the Adirondacks, can be beautiful, and this past weekend was one of the top ten. Well, at least Friday and Saturday. The weather was warm, low humidity and the sky was a crisp blue. These realities alone would be enough to qualify for a weekend of joy, but a get together with friends who go way back was my additional gift. I started counting my joys upon my arrival.
There is nothing like a hug from a friend who truly knows you. A friend, who has pulled you through some difficult times and has brought forth laughter when the tears were flowing. I’m talking about a friend who knows all of your faults, and still overlooks them because they love you anyway. When I walked through the door, greeted by my friends and received those loving, knowing hugs, my heart filled with joy and I knew I was in the right place for the next couple of days.
Slowing our pace from one of a busy week to that of a relaxing weekend, we all grabbed our favorite cocktail and headed outside to the deck that overlooks The Great Sacandaga Lake. We smiled with joy at the amazing view. The water was slowly calming as weary, sun burnt, boaters headed into shore, their vessels awash in the last golden rays of the sun. Our ears filled with a joyful noise as birds began a chorus of praise for the day and the breeze kicked in just enough to bring the thought of a jacket to one’s mind.
After a joyous dinner, what many were calling a Super Moon because of its closeness the Earth over the next few weeks drew our attention. The friends gathered, paused mid-conversations to admire the beauty of the full moon as it rose above the water leaving a shimmering trail on the surface.
Mornings can be glorious on a lake in the Adirondacks. This past Saturday was no exception. At dawn, I rolled over in bed only to witness the rising sun. I sat up to admire the reds and oranges the sun shoved over the horizon of the Earth as she made her appearance for the day. The birds greeted the growing light with songs of joy and I was lulled back into sleep with their chorus.
After lunch, we all donned our bathing suits, sunscreen and hats. With drinks in hand, we headed to the dock for a boat cruise. The water sparkled with the glimmer of the sun and as always, I appreciated the fact of how clear a mountain lake can be. The cruise was en-joy-able as we admired the other passing boats and the attractive homes lining the shore. The sun was hot and so our captain stopped the boat long enough for all of us to jump in and swim around for a while. I love the feel of the softness of the water and the coolness it brings as it overcomes the heat from the sun. We lingered in our swim for quite some time.
A day on the lake cannot be complete without a cookout and ours was grand. We started with cocktails and beer accompanied by fresh steamed clams. Then, just when we thought we should not eat anymore the steak, corn and salt potatoes arrived. The wine was corked and we all dug in as if none of us had eaten in days. Yet, the atmosphere and dinner was only complete with the sweet sound of joyful laughter that arose from the table. Laughter derived from friends who can finish each other’s sentences and still laugh at the same worn jokes told at every gathering.
The joy I felt all weekend filled my heart to bursting and it was then I recognized, life does not get much better than this.
Rosemary Christle-Renaud 