Joe Zeltzer

Grandmother: Shirley Berger, 77 yrs.

As a child, Joe and his brother Mark didn’t like to go over to her house. They made fun of her because "she was old and we didn’t know what the deal was". She was a "sweet, sunshine Grandma". Cooked Passover dinner (Joe remembered the specific meal). She has only begun to change recently. She mainly forgets things about herself. She doesn’t know if she’s eaten or not, or whether she’s done the dishes, she forgets what medicine she is taking, etc. Up until this year he had only spent time with her in family functions. There was a boundary of "family relationship". Now Joe is more willing to listen to her. "Everything slips her mind nowadays. She doesn’t remember what I’m doing… She seems less present, she just sits and looks back and forth and she talks to you, but if you don’t want to talk she’ll just sit. In the old days she used to laugh, and now the laughing has been replaced with a smile. It’s a subtle difference. She’s still all sunshine, but she’s dying and she knows it".

"I feel that there is more of a connection because I’m more willing to share more information with her because I realize that she’s not going to remember as much. I soak up every minute I have with her. I don’t mind repeating myself…I feel bad that I haven’t been talking to her all this time. I think that every time we see each other again we’ll go through the same motions of her asking me the same questions and me answering them but I think recently she’s been volunteering new insights about (her past)."

Recently she has begun to reflect with Joe about her husband who died ten years ago. He says he has begun to know her "as a person". Joe didn’t get to say goodbye to his grandfather (Harold) before he died of lung complications. Joe remembers his Grandfather teaching him how to make waffles, barefoot, early in the morning, and their garden. They lived (and she still lives) in Levittown, Long Island. She lives alone now, has been to the hospital for tests (she has cancer). She collects bells, displays them all (hundreds) in the living room, and has stories about each of them. She loves to get them still.

Joe fixes stuff around the house, which his grandfather used to do. And she offers him his grandfather’s old clothing and uniforms. She doesn’t like new technology. She knits all the time. Joe has her afghan on his bed. She knit hats for premature babies, but not anymore. Joe respects her more now because their relationship has deepened. And because of the death of his grandfather, Joe realizes he could lose her at any moment.

"Double hugs every time."

The rest of the family is taking it well. She engages less in conversation. There are less family dinners. Joe’s mother takes care of her, takes her to the hospital, whatever needs to be done. She’s strained, according to Joe, and is "taking it the hardest" because she’s doing all the physical work, exhausting herself, taking it out on her husband and son.

"She’s a lot quicker to yell at us."

But they are understanding. His grandmother never lectures, and trusts her children to take care of their children. Joe tells her about new things, the internet, etc.

It bother’s Joe’s mother that Shirley can’t remember some things. She forgot to knit Joe a hat that he asked her to make for him. He doesn’t want to remind her, because he feels selfish. He doesn’t expect her to remember.

"Being face to face with a dying person makes me want to fulfill my life now." "She just isn’t as quick as she was, and she’s a lot more mellow. It seems that she knows something’s not there, but she just doesn’t care. I think I’ll laugh my ass off (when I lose my memory)."

Joe has problems now with his short-term memory, which frustrates him.

"I hate it, but what can you do? I’m not a computer."