Two years ago (2011), I delivered photo book to my mother (Shirley) who has Alzheimer’s Disease. Nobody knows what is going on inside the afflicted person’s mind. So I visit, attempt to entertain, and show some measure of affection and care. Alzheimer’s Disease never gets better and the visits don’t get easier but I’m mindful of my mission. I mentioned in the 2011 post what the mission was all about: 
“Deliver to Mom a picture book as a Christmas gift intended to bring recurring smiles.” You can read about the delivery of the book in this post:
The part about “recurring smiles” was definitely reenforced on this most recent visit. I had talked about the family and told her what each of her grandchildren were doing. Then I decided to show her the picture book to put names with faces as I told her again where each child was living.
Since the stroke of few years ago, Shirley can no longer form real words and sentences. She had speech therapy shortly after the stroke but there wasn’t enough brain power left to relearn much more than a few functional basics. “Yes.” “No.” “Yep.” “Alright.” “Okay.”
You may recall that the book contained photos from about 2009 thru 2011 with a few really old ones from 1964, 1967, and one of her husband Gene from 1954 in complete motorcycle attire.
What she lost in words she gained in smiling (which she didn’t do near enough of in her younger years).
Shirley more or less followed along until I reached the pictures of her and her dog Heidi seen here.
Then she smiled and babbled on and on about what I was certain had to be an old memory of the dog and perhaps the photo that was taken on Mother’s Day 2003.
(We didn’t know it then but she was in the midst of sinking into dementia at that time.)
She took the book from me and turned several pages an found the few pictures of the last house she lived in and a picture of the dog on the lawn.
She touched the page and rubbed the picture of the dog with her fingers while describing to me something about the photo in a language known only to her and God.
Staff members happened by and she held up the book for them to see. They fawned over the photo book as if it was the first time they had seen it. The excited chatter continued.
Here I would like to mention three things:
1) No human pictured in the book received that much attention nor elicited that level of excited babble, not even her dashing late husband pictured here.
2) horses pictured in the book received no attention whatsoever; 3) the staff members who came by and commented on Shirley’s excitement typified the staff-to-client interactions I have observed on all of my unannounced visits.
And I’ll take a few sentences here to affirm their fine work. The staff at Windy Hill Village who tend to Mom (and all other clients) every day are to be commended for their steady dispositions, strong sense of duty to their clients, and warm interactions with their client’s visiting loved ones. They are very professional but also very personable. Their “bedside manner” is evident even when you’re not the one in the bed. The administrator Mr. Squires has cultivated an environment of care for both clients and workers.
I had many miles to cover back to my house three states away. Shirley became oblivious to me while still clutching the book and there was a smile on her face as she ran through whatever memories were stirred by the old photos.
The trip accomplished the title of this post — Miles for Smiles.