In writing the stories that appear in the feature, I interviewed professionals, caregivers, and some incredible people living with Alzheimer’s.  I was humbled by the experience, and struck by how dramatically things have changed since my mom’s death.  When my mom was in the early stages of the disease we never uttered the word Alzheimer’s in front her.  We spoke in hushed tones, and told strangers she had “mild cognitive impairment.”  We struggled with how to help her interact at the grocery store or when ordering coffee, and tried to shelter her as much as possible. 

This is not the case for the families I interviewed.  They’ve embraced the disease in ways I never could, and in doing so are paving a new path for those who come behind them.  Rather than shrinking away, they’re standing tall and saying, “Yep, I’ve got Alzheimer’s and I’m still here. Talk to me!”  I know that a decade or so from now, we’ll look back at this time and recognize this is the moment that Alzheimer’s became a cause.  I’m forever grateful that I was able to witness it.

To read the section in its entirety click here.

While you’re reading take a moment to read this year’s winning essay “Disappearing Act.”  It’s also about a mother/daughter relationship through Alzheimer’s.  The piece is beautifully written and definitely resonates with me.  What I love about the fact that the Quarterly chose two Alzheimer’s essays in this year’s contest, is the tipping of the scales. 

The stories we tell shape our understanding.  As we dive into the personal and universal tale of grief and loss and learning to find the hidden moments of happiness, perspectives shift.  It’s through sharing our stories that we teach, heal, and hopefully pave a smoother path for those who come behind us.  For far too long stories about Alzheimer’s have been tucked away in family albums, but that trend is changing and with it, we are too.

First, the Vancouver Voice, where I write my column Couv’ Connections, is venturing into subscriptions.  Now instead of grabbing a copy of the Voice at your favorite coffee shop, it will arrive nicely bundled in your mailbox for a steal of a deal.  Click here for more info on how to subscribe and kick back in your pj’s to read the next issue of the Voice.

Second, I recently learned that I’m a finalist in the Oregon Quarterly’s Northwest Perspective’s essay contest for an essay I wrote titled, “Pack It Up Kids-We’re Leaving:  Lessons Learned from an Unlikely Football Fan.”  I love the kind of writing and features that the Quarterly publishes and am thrilled to be connected with their incredible writing community.  Plus, this essay is an homage to my Duck-loving dad who so deserves to be recognized.  As soon as the essay’s live on the web, I’ll share it widely. 

Third, early this summer I’ll be writing a column about Alzheimer’s for a new publication.  More details to come but as always, I welcome your suggestions, and for this particular column, any caregiving stories you’re willing to share.  I promise to change names and protect the innocent!

Saving the best for last…a release date for Underneath the Ash is coming soon.  That’s all I can say for now, but stayed tuned!

As with any writing project I tackle, I interviewed master gardeners and local green thumbs.  They imparted wisdom on everything from container gardening to the best methods for stringing up peas.  I researched succession planting and the benefits of shade versus sun.  Once I’d gleaned enough content and my article was complete it was time to tackle my next project:  my own garden!

The best part of writing my column each month (or other freelance projects for that matter) is that I’m able to write about things that interest me.  Cultivating a plot of land in my back alley was high on my interest list, but the reality of actually making it happen remained to be seen.  I worried about the scandal that would ensue should my own garden fail after expounding the virtues and ease of city gardening in my writing.  Imagine the horror should a Voice photog happen along to find my alley sprouting weeds rather than an assortment of fresh veggies.

So, on a somewhat damp late April day Luke and I donned garden gloves and dug into the thick weeds taking over our back alley.  We tilled soil, pounded stakes, and sprinkled seeds in dainty rows.  We took delight in watching the garden transform over a relatively short amount of time.  Within just a few weeks tiny green sprouts poked up from the dirt.  Even when we admittedly forgot to water the garden for a day or two, or when the neighbor’s cat decided to mark his territory on our little seed-lets, it continued to flourish. 

And yes, the proof is in the peas…just in time for summer our small container garden is busting with crops:  sweat peas, butter leaf lettuce, dill, cilantro, and tomatoes ripening on the vine.  I sleep easier at night knowing that my words were not lip-service.  It was quite easy after all.  And, I have to say quite tasty too.

Writing the book, which took the better part of two years, now seems like the easy part.  Now it’s all about platform, which is another word for marketing.  When I mention how important marketing the book is to my dad, he scoffs and mutters things like, “can you imagine Shakespeare selling the queen on his platform?”

Fortunately and unfortunately I have two things in my favor:  extensive marketing experience and extensive personal experience with Alzheimer’s disease.  That translates into platform.  Alas, even this might not be enough.  I also need “by lines” those little words which appear under a feature article in a newspaper or magazine.  So here it is, in print, my first “by line“.  The feature appeared earlier this week and for those of you wanting a taste of the book-read away.  Although the process of marketing a book before it’s even sold sometimes feels daunting, seeing my first ”by line” is definitely worth it.