Douglas Adams Continuum (DAC)

Well. I got the news yesterday; a friend has passed.

I want to talk a bit about him, and why not here? Good a place as any and better than most, I suppose.

A few years back I took a job as a live-in caregiver for an elderly man suffering from dementia. His name was Jay C. Scott and he was a retired merchant marine. The job was a difficult one. At first he kept trying to kick me out of his home and I couldn’t blame him; he had lived his entire life as a self-reliant bachelor, never married, had no children, and he liked it that way.

He did have one strong family attachment: from what I gather, he took very good care of his mother till she died at the age of 102; he never put her in a nursing home and he loved her very much. I think that’s worth mentioning.

So Jay C. would try to kick me out every day during the first couple weeks of our coexistence. I would solemnly listen to what he had to say, agree to depart, and ask if there was any good fishing spots around. He would start talking about fishing, and then, at some point during our conversation, I would point to his considerable library of photo albums he kept in his living room and inquire about them whereupon the two of us would while away the evening looking at his photo albums mostly consisting of the ships he served on, the foreign lands he visited, his family… eventually, he would invite me to go fishing with him the next day, and since I would be coming right back, he would invite me to stay the night.

We never once went fishing.

With the rising sun of the next day he would forget about the whole conversation; forget who I was, and try to kick me out again. And the whole cycle would repeat itself. I ended up seeing a lot of his photos and learning a lot about his life.

After a couple of weeks he seemed to remember me, or at least view me as someone to be trusted, and he stopped trying to kick me out, though he would sometimes wake me up in the middle of the night and say, “You could have told me you were going to spend the night, I didn’t know who the hell was in here…â€

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I have turned a new leaf: everyday from here-on-out I shall make it a point to do some random act of bravery and then run like hell
http://steampunk.ning.com/profile/VonDarkfaulker

And you are, in your own way, a great man, h.



Throw a line out there at some point in his memory. He'd want you to, I think.

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Steal Compass. Drive North. Disappear.

twitter: @kensocrates

A very touching story, Horatio. As the son of a former merchant marine who suffered from dementia, it's heartening to know that there are folks who care genuinely for the ill. Too many times, dementia patients get shunted into some nursing home, forgotten and confused. That bell you always heard was another feather being added to your wing.



And may demons piss acid unto the raw flesh of Cotton Cochran.

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This has been another random act of nonsense.

You wrote that story wonderfully.

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You know what you are? You're a beard with an idiot hanging off it.

you know, horatio, as epitaths go, that is a pretty good one. if it´s true that no one is truly dead as long as he´s remembered, you sure have added to jay c.´s life. thank you for sharing this. and rest in peace, jay c.

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"The human gene pool needs more lifeguards!
Either that or stronger chlorination...." (Pitbull)

Damn impressive, horatio.

Safe travels, Jay C

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Human beings, who are almost unique in having the ability to learn from the experience of others, are also remarkable for their apparent disinclination to do so.
(Douglas Adams, "Last Chance to See")

A story that warmed my heart. Thanks Horatio.

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Her mouth opened, her eyes patients, the variety of age and constitution as a pullets egg, with some gobbits of fat, and the heavy sand.

(... don't piss us off)

If only there more like you, H.

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Shoes. - Doctor #3

Indeed.

A lucky soul to have you caring for him.

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Zombies make bad gifts.

I remember you talking about the unfortunate dramas surrounding your relationship and dealings with him and am so sorry to hear of this inevitable conclusion.
RIP, Cotton.
Take care, horatio.

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(... don't piss us off)

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A little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal. - Oscar Wilde (1854 - 1900)
[img]http://www.millan.net/minimations/smileys/kittifer.gif[/img]

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vagabond
birds, any birds, anywhere, any time