Precious mementos open windows to the cherished past of memory-afflicted clients at a Zephyrhills senior day care center.
By LANCE A. ROTHSTEIN
Published October 10, 2004
Memory is a fragile and mysterious thing. It shapes our personalities and becomes part of who we are. People with healthy minds might recall the color of the dress their first-grade teacher wore on the first day of school. But they may not be able to remember where they put the car keys last night.
For a growing number of Americans, memory afflictions are a serious threat to their health and welfare.
In May 2003, Pasco County sheriff's deputies spent 29 hours searching for a missing Alzheimer's patient, using helicopters, police dogs, bicycles, all-terrain vehicles and horses. Eventually, neighbors found the 75-year-old woman resting safely in a shed, one block from her Ramblewood park home. She apparently had slept there in her pajamas as deputies and family members frantically searched for her.
The Alzheimer's Association estimates that 4.5-million Americans have the disease, which affects memory, behavior and thought processes.
Florida's elderly population gives us a firsthand look at the growing challenges faced by those who care for patients suffering from memory afflictions.
At the Dynamic Seniors Day Care Center on Allen Road in Zephyrhills, director Theresa Warmke knows about those challenges. She has been an occupational therapist for about 16 years, working mostly with the geriatric population.
"I noticed, especially since I came to Florida, that a lot of the people that would come to the therapy (at nursing homes) to get better and go home, would end up staying in the nursing home, because they either lived alone, or they had a family member that didn't feel like they could take care of them, or the family member worked and was afraid to leave them at home," Warmke said.
Even though the patients were relatively young and in fairly good health, they ended up staying in the nursing home because they felt there was no other option.
After some research, she found there were such things as adult day care centers. With the help of friend Sandy DeRosso, she opened the Zephyrhills center in July 2003.
At senior day care, patients can enjoy getting out of the house, socializing, keeping their minds and bodies active and still go home to their loved ones at night.
Dynamic Seniors is staffed by therapists, certified nursing assistants and nurses.
Every weekday, a handful of seniors arrive at the center which, inside, looks like a home. There is a living room area with an entertainment center, comfortable chairs, a dining and crafts table overlooked by a small kitchen. The center even comes equipped with the pitter-patter of little feet.The day care center gives Warmke the opportunity to keep her 15-month-old son Derek with her during the day. The seniors enjoy having the toddler around.
It can be difficult to understand what goes on in the mind of someone with a memory affliction and more difficult to ask them about their past. To get a glimpse into the lives of the patients at the center, four were asked to bring in an item that was important to them. They were photographed holding the item and the interviews were enhanced by memories triggered from those items.
Keys come in many different shapes. In this case, a Bible, a microphone, some awards and even a lunch box became keys that unlocked pathways to a hidden past.
"If you talk to them long enough," Warmke says, "it might trigger something where they might remember another aspect. . . . It's really neat to have history sitting here with you and being able to learn from them. Cause you can learn from everybody, and they show me that every day."
WILDA LARACUENTE, Alzheimer's patient
AGE: 85
HOLDS: A Bible
Born in 1919 in Wrens, Ga., Wilda Laracuente traveled the Southeast with her family. Her father, the Rev. William Nelson, was a traveling preacher and changed parishes every two years. "I love the Bible,' said Wilda. "Everybody has to take the Bible according to how they feel or how their family feels. I feel like love is in the Bible."
At age 17, Wilda struck out on her own and moved to New York City, working in several different areas before landing a steady job as a freight elevator operator at the General Post Office in Manhattan.
There, in 1927 at age 28, she met her husband, Modesto Laracuente, a man 30 years her senior.
In 1948, Wilda gave birth to her only child, a daughter, Jackie Laracuente. "Jackie always had attention," remembered Wilda. While in the hospital she met another woman giving birth, Claudia Grayson, with whom she would become lifelong friends. Claudia persuaded Wilda to start beauty school after Modesto and Wilda split up in 1953, the two friends decided to go into business together.
In about 1955 they opened their own salon, Pathway to Loveliness, on W 127th Street in Harlem. A complete hairdo cost $2.50.
"I'd make them look nice," recalled Wilda.
She worked with hot straightening combs and hot curling irons to create the styles her customers wanted. She enjoyed doing hair and also enjoyed the money it was bringing in. But as a single parent, that still wasn't enough. In the 1960s, Wilda took a second job as a coat check attendant and cleaning lady at Columbia University. This allowed her to move with her daughter into the Yorkville area of Manhattan in 1975.
As early as 1980, Wilda's daughter noticed in her mother some slight lapses in memory. When Alzheimer's disease was the official diagnosis in 1984, Wilda retired and they moved to Florida.
Jackie got a job in Wesley Chapel, but was having trouble coping with the slow decline of the matriarch that had been so strong throughout her life. Upon discovering the day care center in Zephyrhills, Jackie said, "This place is a godsend. I can work, and she can still live at home with me. She really likes it here and wants to come every day."
HAROLD MODLIN, Parkinson's and diabetes patient
AGE: 87
HOLDS: An antique microphone
Born in Straughn, Ind., in 1917, Harold Modlin grew up on a farm with his parents, taking care of livestock. He fed the animals every day and recalls walking behind a horse-drawn plow. "We're going back to horse and buggy days now," said Harold.
The year before he started first grade, there were horse-drawn school buses, but the year he began his schooling, a motorized truck carried the children. His parents bought their very first car in 1921: a new Ford Model T.
Harold enjoyed his childhood on the farm and excelled in music and played in his high school orchestra. He also liked reading and writing courses and enjoyed some of the typical books of the boys of his generation. "There were some very popular fiction books that were available for kids my age, Tom Swift: Boy Inventor, and several others like The Golden Boys," Harold recalled.
His parents "tried very hard . . . to make me understand that school was good for me, and I think that influenced my life a great deal," he said.
After finishing all 12 years in the same school, Harold lived with his family and worked nights in Newcastle, Ind., for Chrysler at a parts manufacturing plant. He took the night shift so he could go to college in the daytime, commuting 50 miles from the farm to attend classes at Arthur Jordan Conservatory of Music at Butler University in Indianapolis.
"I worked very hard to get my degree, but I never got it. I was eager to get into radio because I felt I had a future there," Harold said.
He dropped out and took his first broadcasting job at a small station, WLBC in Muncie, Ind. "I was an announcer and writer," Harold recalled. "I did a little of everything there, mostly commercials."
While at this station, he married his college sweetheart, Marian Lund, on Dec. 28, 1941, and soon after that his salary was raised - to $22.50 per week.
Later they moved to Indianapolis, where Harold got a job at the city's leading station, WFBM, which then took on a TV outlet, WRTV. "For a period I did my farm report at 12:30 on radio and then at 12:45 I did the same material on television," Harold said. "I did weather, market reports, hog market, cattle, grain - all of that." He used the "on-air" name of Harry Martin and was popular with listeners and viewers.
Harold and Marian had four children and traveled all over the world before retiring to Zephyrhills.
Since retirement, Harold has battled with diabetes and Parkinson's disease. He started this year at the senior day care center, and continues to write stories at his computer almost every day. He also joined a writing group in Zephyrhills.
In 1991, on his 50th wedding anniversary, Harold self-published an autobiography for his family and friends. The 150-page book concluded by referring to the process of writing his life story:
"The truth is - I'm not in a hurry to get to the end. Life has been so sweet - so filled with fun and pleasure - and with so many blessings - I'm not in a big rush to write the final chapter."
WILSON GRANT, Stroke victim
AGE: 71
HOLDS: An award
Wilson Grant was born in Columbus, Ga., in 1933. After high school, he enlisted in the Air Force in 1954 and was stationed at MacDill Air Force Base in Tampa before being transferred to Japan in 1955. "I loved it because I played football while I was over there," Wilson recalled of his days as a halfback carrying the ball against other Air Force and Army teams. "I used to like to carry it, it felt good and I didn't fumble too much."
In 1957, Wilson was transferred again, this time to Washington, D.C., where he said he was assigned as a recreation specialist on Air Force One under President Eisenhower. One of the duties he remembers was to keep the airplane supplied with the right kinds of books that the president read. "He used to love westerns," Wilson said. Traveling aboard Air Force One, a C-121 Constellation aircraft, Wilson enjoyed the assignment, which let himsee the world for a few years. "I liked to travel from city to city ... and country to country," Wilson said.
After his service in the Air Force, Wilson moved to a place he'd always wanted to live: California. During his 20 years in Oakland and Los Angeles, he worked as a job developer for the Urban League, finding work for the unemployed.
His mother had a stroke around 1983. He left the West Coast and returned to Georgia to care for her. While there, he was employed as a rehabilitation counselor for the state of Georgia. "I mostly helped the mentally and physically disabled," Wilson said. "I counseled them and helped them to find jobs." In 1986, he married Eva Powell, who had traveled from New Jersey to visit relatives in Columbus.
After Wilson's mother died, the family, including son Jonathan, born in 1988, moved to Florida to enroll Jonathan in a Lake Wales boarding school. Now in Wesley Chapel, Eva teaches Spanish at Land O'Lakes High School.
After seeing his mother lost to the effects of stroke, and after helping other stroke patients with rehabilitation, Wilson Grant had two strokes himself, starting around 1992. He suffered some loss of memory and movement functions, but he recovered strongly and appreciates the efforts of those assisting him with rehabilitation. He knows what it's like to be in their shoes.
BERNICE ANTINORO, Alzheimer's patient
AGE: 85
HOLDS: A Betty Boop lunch box
Born on Christmas Day 1918 in St. Louis, Bernice Antinoro had five brothers and two sisters. "We were all in one big house," Bernice said.
After eighth grade, Bernice worked nights at Carter Carburetor, where she was on the assembly line. "There were several of us on the line . . . putting stuff together."
One memory her family still jokes about is something she says many employees did at the factory. When the work was slow and there were only a few things to do, she would take a bathroom break and go to an upper floor window where she could see into the stadium across the street. There, the St. Louis Cardinals - then known as the "Gas House Gang" - were playing baseball.
"I was supposed to be in the bathroom," Bernice recalled, "but I went upstairs to watch the boys play ball. We all did it."
Another of her favorite things was the movies, but not just any old picture show could get her attention. One particular character kept her coming back for more. "I loved Betty Boop from the time I could go to the show," Bernice said. The Betty Boop cartoons played every Sunday, so when her mother could afford it, Bernice got a quarter to see her favorite cartoon character, now an icon.
She worked at the carburetor factory for about eight years until she married an electrician, Pat Sloan, and had two children. Living in St. Louis, she was a homemaker and even made some of her own clothes. "My mother was a seamstress and she taught me how to sew on a treadle sewing machine," Bernice said.
Pat died in 1972 and two years later, Bernice married Louis Antinoro. The couple moved to Zephyrhills in 1977 and worked in the food services industry. They enjoyed ballroom dancing in their spare time. In 1997, Louis passed away, and in 2000, Bernice began showing signs of memory troubles. The onset of dementia has forced her to live a more supervised life that includes living with her daughter and spending her days at the Dynamic Seniors Day Care Center.
But if Bernice has any trouble recalling her past, she only has to wait until lunch time. That's when she takes out her lunch box with a big picture of an old friend.
