Mom spent her final days living in her own little house in Franklin Township (Hunterdon County) . In almost story book fashion, the house was a “stone’s throw” from Capoolong Farm where she grew up. Capoolong, as we always called it, is a story for another day.

We visited Mom frequently. From time to time we’d take her to Clinton for grocery shopping or the like, just to give her a break from the house for a while. She never complained of boredom, but that almost had to be part of her day to day existence. She was a trooper.

An old gentleman lived next door to Mom. He, like Mom, was essentially incapacitated. Ironically, though, Mom always referred to him as “the shut in next door”, but truth be told, they both were in the same boat.

Fast forward Lord knows how many years. The irony continues. I have contended with MS for 40 years now; to the point of being wheelchair bound and essentially incapacitated. Now who is the shut in next door ?

It would follow, I suppose, to wallow in self-pity here. That ain’t gonna happen. I only note this to mention life’s remarkable trials . Back in the old days, after having fitful attempts to load a cow onto his truck, the local cattle dealer, Mr. Kadezabek, would shrug his shoulders and demure,”Whattcha gunna do ?”

I say the same, Mr. K. It is what it is.


One thought on “THE “SHUT IN”

  1. Oh, Uncle Pete! I suppose it is all a matter of perspective and yet… things don’t always seem fair. They aren’t fair and yet, “Whattcha gunna do?” I’m glad you are writing about it! Love you. xoxo


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