Once again, I’m joining my cousins Nancy, Janette and Debbie, and my wife Isabel for the Walk for Alzheimer’s.
Last year, I told you about my Tio Zé—the man who ruled the head of the holiday table after announcing that he hadn’t “eaten for three days." This year, the walk feels a little more personal as I navigate this journey with my mom.
My mom, Rosa, grew up in rural, 1950s Portugal, where life had a very specific, often quiet, set of rules. She used to tell me how she’d sing at the top of her lungs, alone in the fields watching the family cows graze, only for her mother to tell her to pipe down because it was "embarrassing." Her father died when she was only six, and the singing had to stop—in those days, music (and happiness for that matter) was seen as a lack of respect for the dead.
By the time she was 30, she was a widow herself with two small kids. A single mom working shifts at Chrysler, there wasn’t much time or breath left for singing. Yet, she made sure we had the music she didn't. She paid for my guitar lessons, let me take over the basement to make noise in bands, and dragged us to Portuguese Rancho practice [11 year old me was not happy about this, but I grew out of that].
Since her diagnosis, the music has come back.
When I pick her up on Mondays to take her to her OSCC55+ Adult Day Program, I have a playlist of old-school Portuguese concertina music ready to go. Because of this, she thinks I listen to 24/7 concertinas in my spare time. “É uma alegria entrar neste carro... tem sempre musica boa.” [It’s a joy to get in this car... it always has good music.]
And she sings… and tells me stories about being that little girl in the fields. Last week, Roberto Leal’s “Bate o Pé” [Tap Your Foot] came on. She told me she was getting too old to dance, then, without missing a beat she changed the lyrics on the fly to “Arrasta o Pé” [Shuffle Your Foot].
The reality is that while I'm finding these moments of joy in the car, the "long goodbye" is still happening. More families—mine, Nancy’s, and likely someone you know—are leaning on the Alzheimer Society to help navigate the parts of this disease that aren't as easy as a song on the radio.
If you have a few bucks to spare, toss them in the donation box to help keep the music playing for families like ours.
Appreciate it!
David