Alzheimer's Plot: 'The Christmas Clock' by Kat Martin

I was going through my blogs one day to check out old book reviews. I came across one from 2009 called 'The Christmas Clock.' The book has a subplot of early onset Alzheimer's in one of the characters. I remember reading it back then, feeling drawn to the story, because of my own mother. This was well before she went downhill so fast. I enjoyed it, as some of you may. I am reposting my review here, for those who may be interested.

The Christmas Clock is the latest book by bestselling author Kat Martin. It's the story of a young boy named Teddy Winters, who at the age of eight lives with his grandmother, Lottie Sparks. Unbeknownst to him and many others in their small Michigan town, Lottie is suffering from a very rapidly progressing form of Alzheimer's disease. She is seeking to find him a permanent home before she becomes too disabled. At the same time, Teddy is trying to earn money to by his beloved grandmother a mantel clock that reminds her of her childhood.

Teddy goes to work doing odd jobs around the mechanic shop owned by Joe Dixon. Joe has been trying to rebuild his life after doing time for accidentally killing a man in a bar fight many years ago. His rage had been sparked by the love of his life, Sylvia Winters, suddenly taking off, claiming she had never loved him, which he felt in his heart of hearts wasn't true.

Sylvia has recently returned to town, carefully guarding the secret that had caused her to flee all of those years ago. She is also looking to start over, but is finding it difficult, as she keeps running into Joe, and realizes that her feelings haven't changed.

At the same time, Sylvia is becoming close friends with Doris Culver, her landlord. Doris and her husband Floyd have been married forever, but lost the spark years ago. They dance around wanting to revive the relationship, but neither will be the first to admit it or to make the first move.

All of these people are interconnected, and every choice that they make somehow affects all of the others. Though highly predictable, as most romance novels are, each of these choices eventually leads to a Christmas miracle of sorts for everyone involved. A few lessons in life and love can also be gleaned from these pages if you pause for a second to reflect.

It's an extremely easy read, designed to allow you to relax for a couple of hours during this hectic holiday season. It's not written to change the world, but to entertain. Those with families touched by Alzheimer's will feel a sort of kinship with the characters dealing with it, even though Lottie's descent into the depths of dementia feel a little too fast for reality.

Purchase in paperback.



Purchase for Kindle

GBE2: One Year Ago

I haven't posted to this blog since June 10th. After Dad died, it just got to be too difficult to write. When I had started this blog, it was two weeks before he went into the hospital. We had plans to work on it together. He was always calling me with stories of Mom and we supported each other. Alas, that project just wasn't meant to be, I guess. It has been hard to conceive of continuing it, but I will still attempt it here and there. This isn't just about me - this is for all of you.

So, that all being said, Happy Holidays! We are two days past Christmas and a few days away from the New Year. The holiday season always makes one reflect on life and love. This holiday season I have been reflecting on one year ago and how much everything has changed.

One year ago, I drove home on Christmas Eve. The usual 6 1/2 hour drive seemed even worse than usual because I was fighting a migraine. By the time I got to my parents' house, my eyeballs felt like they were being ripped out of my head. My stomach was turning and the world was spinning. I just wanted to go to bed, but my father insisted I was going to go to church with them this year. He knew it would be the last time we would be able to go together on Christmas Eve, only we thought it would be because Mom would be in a home by summer. Not because he was going to die.

I tried to take something for my head and stomach, but it wasn't working. We got into an argument with Mom because she smelled so bad and wasn't dressed right. She hadn't showered in at least a week and had been sleeping in her clothes. But we couldn't convince her to take a shower before we left. She kept insisting that she was fine. And she kept adding layers of clothes over the ones she was already wearing. At least they were all red for Christmas!

She kept hugging me because she was happy to see me. I can't even begin to describe what the B.O. was doing to my head and stomach. But at the same time, I wanted to collapse against my mommy's shoulder because I felt so sick.

The bickering finally had to cease and we made it to church. Like always, Dad had to walk all the way up to the front of the church. That is where the light was the brightest and the music was the loudest. The poinsettias in front of us were expanding and contracting, along with the thudding pain in my head. I remember laying my head on Mom's shoulder at times.

I remember little else of the service, other than spotting a former student sitting off to the side with his family. I chatted with him for a bit after the service. We had connected on Facebook, but probably not seen each other in at least 13 years or so. I also remember the pastor doing his sermon and using me as an example for whatever it was. He kept "talking to me." I struggled to pay attention. I was afraid I would throw up on his shoes if I looked away. I remember introducing myself afterwards and apologizing for being so out of it.

Christmas Day was relatively uneventful. I am pretty sure Mom kept wearing the same clothes and had slept in them again. I had wanted to make a turkey, but was coming off of the migraine. Dad and I agreed that my turkey taco soup would be an acceptable alternative. I cooked it and we gathered around the TV watching football.

The following night we decided to actually make a turkey. I asked Mom to help me, because I knew this would be the last time she could do so. She remembered enough to help me bag the turkey for roasting, but couldn't remember her recipe for the stuffing. I wish I would have paid more attention when I was younger. But my sister is the one who always made it with her and I am not a fan of stuffing.

The turkey ended up being perfect. And it is the only one I have ever made.

I made all of the traditional side dishes and fixed my mom a plate. It was the best meal she had eaten in a while. She raved about how wonderful it was. And I was proud of myself.

There were several other events that transpired during that trip. But I will save them for another entry. Thanks for starting the journey with me down Memory Lane.