Long Story Short
In the summer of 1996, the parallel universe that I came to call Elderland was born. Its nexus was the family home of 55 years, a 100 year old colonial in a small town in upstate New York. The indigenous population consisted of two elderly parents: my 81-year-old father, a retired attorney with a powerful intellect so contorted by years of depression and eccentric behavior that it was nearly impossible to determine exactly when he slipped over into true dementia; my mother, a long-suffering retired homemaker (isn’t that an oxymoron?) nine years my father’s senior, healthy, graceful and remarkably youthful even into her nineties; and me, Middle (46), soon to become primary caregiver and warden. Two sisters, both married, Youngest (45) and Oldest (49) dropped in periodically from their duties and pleasures in the faraway real world for consultation and debate.
