Recipes for Living Guyla Patrick

The following, entitled A Life Less Ordinary-An Interview with Guyla Patrick, was written by Josh Patrick November 9, 1998, for his class on Aging. It is being used with permission.

If one were to be asked to picture a seventy-year-old woman in their minds, they probably wouldn't picture my grandmother. Guyla Patrick is a woman who will always be an inspiration to me as a representation of strength, kindness, and everything that I want to see in myself as I grow older. I had a chance this Fall Break to interview my grandmother about the issues surrounding aging and how she, herself, has experienced them.

Much like anyone would expect, my grandmother expressed the fact that as she has grown older she has noticed that her energy level and strength have diminished in relation to her abilities to do physical labor, making the work more burdensome. Due to the onset of asthma in later life, physical activity became that much harder. Another thing that she noticed that she pointed out quite candidly is that she is significantly shorter than she used to be. However, that is not uncommon amongst all adults, as they grow older due to the "pressing" effects of gravity. One more thing about her physical state that she noticed is actually linked to a specific incident involving a deep cut that she had on her leg. Now, to a younger individual this cut may have healed in a relatively short amount of time. However, for my grandmother it took nearly four months and whirlpool therapy for the wound to heal. This may lend itself to the biological theory of wear and tear, where the body is not as able to repair itself in the case of injury. However, just because my grandmother has experienced a lack of physical ability has not limited her ability to remain active and alert.

Which, as it happens, leads me into the following part of our conversation about psychological changes. Just from speaking with her one can tell that she has a sharp wit. She has the ability to recall instances that happened years ago that neither my parents nor myself can recall. At the same time, however, she told me that she noticed a distinct change in her ability to remember to do errands, which, for the most part, she has to write down to remember to do anymore. Another instance regarding her psychological capabilities, was her apprehension in learning new things and stretching out on her own. For the longest time my grandfather tried to teach her to use the computer, but she was afraid that it would be too complicated for her. However, since my grandfather has passed away, she has taken it upon herself to learn and is now an avid web-surfer and e-mailer. She says that she isn't quite sure whether or not her abilities in regard to learning new things are affected because of her age, or whether it has to do with that fact that she is doing them alone now that her husband has passed away. In any stretch of the word, she is a bright and interesting woman who defies the age-old disengagement theory.

My grandmother, when asked about programs that have affected her had little to say except that she has been treated very well under the government programs that have provided for her, with a few exceptions. She was pleased with her medical benefits coverage which is a combination of Medicare and Blue Cross & Blue Shield. However, she was dissatisfied with the pharmacy bills that she and my grandfather were used to paying (when he was still alive). They used to rack up almost seven hundred dollars a month bill for medications alone! Another worry that she and most others have are the costs of funerals and burials; anymore the cost to put someone under six feet of ground is unbearable. However, she also found a program that allowed her mother to afford the costs that will be incurred when she passes away without having to worry about who will bear the brunt of it. To me it seems a rather sad chapter in our society when we make it almost unaffordable for people to pay for medicine to keep them well and when we don't allow them that, we then exploit them further by making it almost too expensive to die! However, with regards to my grandmother, she will not have to worry about her financial situation because she was well provided for by my grandfather through life insurance programs and through her ability to collect his and her Social Security benefits since my grandfather's death not but a month ago. Which, incidentally, leads me into our next section.

Changes in the Family System & In Roles and Responsibilities

These two categories, I believe, go hand in hand. My grandmother, as I have mentioned earlier has experienced a tremendous shift in her life since, not only my grandfather passed away this fall, but also my uncle, her son, passed away this summer. This was obviously an emotionally draining time for her; however, I would also like to point out two contrasting situations concerning both my grandmother and grandfather. After their son's death they both felt a loss; however, my grandfather seemed to experience it in a much different way. Over the course of the next few months, not only myself but also others noticed a change in his attitude, as if he were "detaching" from society. I believe in the end, this attitude coupled with an impaired health condition led to his death. My grandma, on the other hand, has experienced things in a much different way. Of course, in both cases she has experienced a traumatic loss; however, I think that because of her responsibilities, energy, and "lust for life" she has been able to overcome adversity.

One of those responsibilities that has kept her going is the mother role being rekindled. Since her son's death she has been taking care of a 16 year-old girl. Of course she was a mother once before, but now she has to start all over again at 70. Surprisingly, she has taken on this project with open arms. Now, instead of being alone, Grandma is able to have a companion to have conversations with, laugh with, argue with, and cry with. She admits to a period of adjustment that came along with the responsibility, like learning to discipline a teenager again, but says that it keeps her busy. Next week she is going to parent-teacher conferences and all the meanwhile is teaching Kara to drive. Paired with this responsibility to be mother, she still meets and talks with her own mother almost every day at her elderly care facility.

Overall, I really enjoyed this interview and it allowed me to learn more about a woman who I truly admire. From what I have presented is it any wonder why I admire her so much? I just believe it to be a tremendous accomplishment to be able to live as long as she has, experience so much trauma and all the while remain so active, witty, and upbeat. If nothing else I would just like to say that I admire and love my grandmother, Guyla Patrick.

GUYLA HARSH PATRICK

Guyla was so pleased not only with what Josh had written but that he had written about her. She went on to fill in the gaps:

I was born August 9, 1928, to Delbert and Helen Harsh. The three of us children, my older brother James (Jim) and older sister Margaret, were born at home in New Virginia, delivered by Dr. Jardine, the only doctor New Virginia ever had. The three of us all went to school at New Virginia, and unlike kids who think it is great when school is called off because of weather, we hurried to get there before we found out. Then we spent the day playing basketball in the gym and we'd eat lunch in the cafeteria.

There were a couple of incidents when the not-so-peaceful times in our sibling relationship showed up. One is in Mother's story, when I was jealous because Margaret had a new coat and I didn't. Another was when Jim bought a bicycle with money he earned and wouldn't let us girls ride it. We might scratch or bend it or something. We begged and coaxed but he wouldn't give in. To make sure, he even locked it whenever he left to go to work. One day Dad got so disgusted that he broke the lock so Margaret and I could ride. Thank goodness we didn't damage it!

Jim and Margaret graduated from New Virginia but we moved to Osceola when I was a sophomore in high school and I finished here. For at least two years while I was in high school and two years after I graduated, I worked for Sam Windrath in the drug store. It was a popular hang-out for kids because of the soda fountain. That was an institution in itself. We had a malt machine and malts were really popu1ar when farmers came to town on Saturday nights. It was in the days before cans of pop so we made cokes, green rivers, and other flavors of phosphates that were very much in demand.

In the spring of 1946, when I was a senior in high school, I met Phil. He had just come back from the service. That summer he worked for Craig Harrison in Penny's store and during his breaks he came up for cokes. We didn't particularly date but a group of us ran around and did things together. He and I probably went to movies once in awhile, but I vividly remember the first time he took me out of town! Here he was, a couple years older than I, had served in the military and I thought was so worldly; and there I was-I'd basically not been anywhere! I was so nervous! We went to Des Moines and had dinner at Babe's Restaurant.

Phil went to Simpson College that fall and the next summer he worked at the booster station at Truro. He bought me a diamond, planning to pay for it on installments, and the very next day he broke his arm playing baseball. He spent another year at Simpson. The following summer he worked for Jewel Tea Company and we were married August 29, 1948. We moved to Denver and he enrolled at Denver University. I found a job at Denver Dry Goods Company, overseeing a personal telephone shopping service. Customers would call in and explain their need. There were four personal shoppers, who would find the item that seemed most suitable. Phil had held a number of different jobs mainly in department stores before a friend persuaded him
to become his partner in a linoleum and tile business.

Terry was born on New Year's Day, January I, 1950, and in the spring of that year, Phil graduated and he and his friend sold their business. We moved back to Osceola and were here when DeeAnn was born on August 12, 1952. I had inherited asthma from my grandfather, Oren Winkle, and at this time it became really severe. We returned to Denver thinking it might help me, and Phil went to work for Ruberoid Roofing Company. In 1957, when Phil was given the position of assistant district sales manager, we were transferred to Milford, Massachusetts.

Phillip, Jr. was born in August of that year and the kids and I came back to Osceola. We spent about six weeks with Mom and Dad until Phil could find housing. I enrolled the kids in school and they loved it! When Phil sent word that we could come, the three children and I flew to Massachusetts. What an experience that was. It was a plane far preceding jet days. It was the first time I had ever flown...and Phil made the mistake of telling me the airport was on an island. I didn't know what to expect and the trip didn't go smoothly. We were to make connections in Chicago but missed the flight out of O'Hare. Here I was with a baby and two children, ages seven and five, not knowing what to do next. The airline arranged for us to be taxied to Midway where we did catch another flight. It was all pretty scary.

That led into one of the most wonderful periods of our life. Phil and I were young, our children were the perfect age, and New England was a wonderful place to raise them. We toured all over that part of the country. We did the Cape, took the children to New York City, rode the ferry, and saw the Empire State Building. Phil was particularly excited to show us everything. He told DeeAnn about a German restaurant, saying, “If I can find it, I'd like to take you." Kids aren't often as impressed as we hope, which was true in this case. It was typical, with dark paneling and hanging cookware. DeeAnn, wanting to show her father her appreciation, could only come up with a not-convincing statement, "This is a pretty place, isn't it?"

Milford was a small town that had two big Catholic churches, Italian and Roman Catholic. There was quite a lot of discussion about us when we came. It was traditional that pastors called on new members to the community and the Methodist minister had understood we were of his denomination. However, the Catholic priests said that our name being Patrick, we couldn't be other than Catholic and none of them called on us for a long time.

When I said that our children at that time were a perfect age, the adjective did not apply to behavior. They were pistols! Phil was gone a lot, traveling on his job, so the kids and I were alone during the week. They chased me with snakes. They would cover me with a blanket and hold it there. If I'd get mad and start to scold them, they would put me in a chair and stand on each side to keep me there until I would start laughing. I've sometimes told them that if I get Alzheimer’s, I'll be in the third stage before anyone knows I've got it.

But whatever we went through, I like the outcome because we are all very close now and looking back over all the years, I have developed some very definite thoughts about raising children. I would like to tell young parents how blessed they are to have children and how it is a one-time opportunity. They need to spend time with them. Once those years are gone, they are gone! There is no second chance. Be there for them no matter what develops, but follow the pattern of the birds and know when to push them out of the nest to become strong on their own. To do otherwise is to be what has come to be called an "enabler." Phil and I agreed totally about that. There was nothing in life more important to Phil than family. We did everything for our children that we knew to do. We would always help but we required that they do their part.

We moved to Denver for the third time when Phil was transferred as a district sales manager with the same company. That was where Terry graduated from high school. It was a really busy time. The boys were playing baseball and football; DeeAnn was taking painting and ice skating classes. We were there about 10 years, when Phil left Ruberoid and went with Malarkey Roofing Company. We moved to Oregon but didn't like it. We felt far away from all the family. After a year we moved back to Osceola.

Terry went to Maryville to college and there he met and married Mary Jo Buster. They quit school and went to Denver, where both of them worked as flight attendants for United Airlines. Mary Jo continued for about 17 years, Terry for about 10, until he decided to go back to school and become an optometrist. He was accepted at Pacific University, Forest Grove, Oregon. During those years, Josh was born on June 11, 1979, and Tyler on December 12, 1983.

Mary Jo died ten years ago, in 1989, of a heart attack, like Phillip nearly 10 years later. Her death seemed more than I could bear. I loved her so much. She was so pretty, such a good wife and mother. If I had known then that I would have to go through two more deaths, I don't know if could have handled it. They don't get any easier but hers being the first was awfully hard. Terry was in his last year of school and Phil and I were here in Osceola thinking of him and those two little boys without their mother. We decided that we couldn't rest easy unless we went to be with them. I spent most the year in their home, taking care of the boys.

Terry moved back to Denver as pre-agreed. Colorado doesn't have a school of optometry but they choose about eight students each year and pay for their education with the agreement the students will practice in that state for five years. At this time he has been there longer than that, in practice in Arvada.

Terry is now remarried to Denice Purdy. She had three children from a previous marriage-Andy, Jamie, and Callie; so their family grew to five children in a hurry. Josh and Andy are now in college; Jamie is a senior in high school, Tyler a junior, and Callie is in 9th grade.

DeeAnn had been a senior in high school when we moved back to Osceola and graduated from Clarke Community School. She went on to AIB (American Institute of Business), and when she finished, went on to work for Standard Oil Company in Des Moines. In 1979, she married Randy Boswell and they have one child, Robert, who was born in 1991. They adopted him when he was three days old. They tried to tell him that he was adopted but he wasn't interested. He was happy with the way things were. However, one day he was watching TV, a program about adoption, and he came to his mother and said, "I know what adoption is. You didn't have me but I'm very special because you got to pick me out, and you are my mom and dad and you love me very much and I love you very much and that's what adoption is."

It has been 30 years since we moved to Osceola. Dad was so pleased to have us back. He died in January of the following year, in 1970. We had not come particularly planning to stay but Phil had a chance to work in and out of Des Moines for Woodford Manufacturing Company. He was with them about 18 years when he found himself in one of the situations where they offered early retirement. He was then 60 years-old and not ready to be inactive. He went into business for himself, in a material handling company that he named Pepco, using his initials plus "co" for company. For the first five years he was by himself. Phillip, Jr. was working for Jimmy Dean Meat Company nights and worked for his dad during the day.

After Jimmy Dean closed Phillip went to Creston, enrolled at SWCC, got his degree and went full time with his dad. He had gone to Northwest Missouri State College after he graduated from high school. There he met Kathleen Gearhart and they were married. They had a daughter, Kara, born in 1983. The marriage wasn't successful and in later years Kara came to live with Phillip. He had a heart attack and died suddenly on July 23, 1998.

During the time that we have been in Osceola, Phil started a tradition of reunions. As an incentive for the family to continue getting together after Dad died, on a given date, they all gathered for a men's golf tournament. It grew over the years until there were about 20 fellows who played in it and it was serious golf. There were various prizes for closest to the hole and others with trophies to the winners. They took those trophies seriously! About eight years ago the family had grown and scattered so widely that it wasn't possible to continue them.

Between 1978 and 1983, Rev. Dick Eis was the United Methodist pastor and I was in the hospital a lot. He came to see me often and I appreciated him so much. He was just himself, nothing formal about him. He was apt to put his feet up and just sit and talk, which made me feel very comfortable. We had some wonderful conversations.

Phil seemed to withdraw after Phillip died. He had been in poor health for about ten years and the stress was just more than his heart could bear. He died October 20, 1998. I am recovering slowly, still in the stage of opening drawers and finding his personal effects, or letters he had written. I can steel myself for what I know will be hard but it is unexpected situations that throw me. I find it takes time.