(Episode 1)

Melissa is my enlightened caregiver and I am her patient. When our family decided that it was not safe for me to be wandering and fending for myself, the search across the San Fernando Valley began. Agencies sent people for the caregiving position. My response to all of them was, “No Way!” One was so large she could not fit through the door. Another one waited in the rain to be picked up by her husband who never came. For all I know she shriveled up and floated away. A friend of mine of many years, my Lovely Brendie, found Melissa. Thanks to God, Mornings with Melissa, an important, and life giving relationship, was born.

Melissa is kind and has strong caregiving skills that she has gathered over the years. She is dependable, and her skills and knowledge is shared freely with everyone who tends to me. She puts a warm spirit all over the house, sees to the watering of special plants that would heretofore not be able to be present without her care. WE have a bird family in the yard and Melissa feeds them our breadcrumbs. As soon as Melissa goes into the kitchen, Mr. Bird flies to greet her. Melissa is welcomed by everyone for her love, warmth, and understanding of life.

Yes, you want to know what Melissa does for me. When you wake up tomorrow pen and paper should be in your hands, or placed near by. Start your written notations of everything you do for yourself. Think back a few days and add some things you remember that would have been much less frustrating with help. Your list should be long. Now it is my turn to tell all. I was chosen to suffer from a disease that not even the devil could have concocted. The Spells are horrid and cannot be explained in any way I can think of, except to put my foot in my mouth and say perhaps childbirth is something you cannot describe and each person’s pain is different. My spells come and go at their will. I do not know when they will come but I know it’s too often. They course through the body and must have a roadmap, because they are right on task and never deviate.   What Melissa does for me, is eases me through each session and lightens my load. Without Melissa, the devil wins and who wants that?

Thank you for reading so far, and when you share your comments with us, they will become so important, in helping all of us to develop growth as we share our skills


Growls and Grins

Growls or Grins, it’s the state you’re in.

Roommates for 58 years, through many growls, grins, and tears.

Happy days and dreams are sure, but just make certain you have plenty of ice cream.

For some of us, ice cream is the cure, and for some of us it is the curse.

Either way, just be sure you’re in line first.


By: Sheila Clapkin

Dixie, We’ve Come A Long Way Since Elementary School


Dear Dixie,

I have wanted to say hello for a long time and Barbara magically came up with your address. Skip and I are trying to make it through each day. He finds it very difficult to walk and I have broken bones from Osteoperosis. Oh well. Then I have been diagnosed with Parkinson’s and that is horrible.

But then again the magic of life still wins and we awake to a new day with new challenges. Gosh we are getting older and older. When we were all young, I never gave aging a thought.

I hope you are as well as can be and enjoying what you can. I used to paint and write blogs, but if I can get my hair up in a bun that does it.

Something interesting: They make dresses that are really pajamas and have a robe that looks like a jacket over the pajama dress. So there you have it. We can wear our P.J.s to dinner. Lovely huh?

I love you dear long time friend forever!

Sheila Levin Clapkin


Precious Memories Flood My Soul



Precious Memories Flood my Soul.

On such a quiet morning scenes unfold. Is it a memory or a dream that I am experiencing? I see Mother, Father, family, friends, home, and remembering a warm fireside glow.


I lie down under the apricot tree, without you, but with memories following me, spiraling free. How they come and go at will to fill me is a mystery.

Sights and sounds come marching through.

Passages and extracts from the past cross my mind’s path.

The preservation of my memories not only resides in my head, but in the cells of my body. I carry them gratefully.

I wish that you could hear what memories I hear and what I see. I wish that I could hear and see what you see, so that we would be able converse about them and honor their being.

Let us share precious memories, precious scenes, signs, and settings.

Once again let us lie under the apricot tree and feel our memories fill our minds, starting our hearts to throb with remembrances abounding in our precious, sacred recollections

Time is passing and we are inspired to fly across the years and once again enter our heart and soul zones, which have filled nearly to the brim with wonders of wonders to share.

A comforting thought is that I know you will always be there and you know I will be there for you in our precious memories.



Dear Friend



Dear Friend,

I want not to like you!

I actively work, and plot not to like you,

but, to no avail.

I like you.

I like you a lot.


It Is What It Is, Until It Isn’t


She received a gorgeous slip for her 16th birthday and learned women wore slips inside and under outer clothing to smooth the look of the outer clothes.

She thought that it was much too beautiful for her to wear, so it slept for 52 years in a bottom drawer until yesterday. It awakened fully on the hips of this 78 year old woman. 

The woman twirled and glided across the floor wearing the slip among other tidbits of clothing, creating a miraculous change in thinking. 

It is a dried up old slip saved for half a century and revered as a treasure. Today was the debut of the slip. It was just a rolled up forgotten rag and today it has become a center of interest, therapist, and a way to change and reposition the tales told, therefore a way to change the flow of thoughts. 

Once upon a time this slip was too elegant for the receiver and today it has turned the tide in such a positive direction. The receiver of the gift, so long ago, has carried it into the present as a positive boast upward into self-acceptance.

So now once again it is what it is, until it isn’t.


It’s Tough Being Me

It’s tough being me,

But who else can I be?

None can be me, but me.

The me that was then

Can never be again,

Gone and replaced

With Gratitude and Grace,

In a shawl of linen and lace

There you can see the me that was me

And the me I am trying to be

Someone wrote in my book, “You were kidnapped from who you were.”

Who wrote this?

Indeed, could it have been me?

If it were me, I’d climb a tree and wave a flag.

How very observant and how very important to finally know what needs to be fixed. Give me back!


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