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“Little Things Mean A Lot”

In 1954, Kitty Kallen‘s “Little Things Mean a Lot” was number one on the charts, selling over 1 million copies. I was 14 at the time, and I don’t think I really understood the meaning and relevance of the song’s message. Now that I’m closing in on 86, it means much more to me.

Kate and I have lived well throughout our marriage. In fact, I’d say it’s been a joyful adventure. That was true even during the early stages of her Alzheimer’s. Early on, we decided to enjoy life and each other for as long as we were able. We did that by binging on all the things we had enjoyed before Alzheimer’s. That meant going to movies, theatrical and musical events, eating out, and traveling. During the first 10 years, we ate out for lunch and dinner more than 6000 times. We also attended many musical and theatrical events not only in Columbia, our hometown, but also in cities within a two-hour drive.

Travel also played an important role in our lives. We went on a safari in Tanzania, where we got a close look at lions, elephants, zebras, and other wild animals we had only seen in zoos. We swam with iguanas, turtles, and other marine life in the Galapagos Islands, and on our last international trip in 2015, we paraglided off a mountain in Switzerland where we turned a somersault on the way down.

Those days came to an end in 2020 after Kate had a traumatic experience during eight days in the hospital with COVID. She’s been in the last stage of Alzheimer’s ever since. Before that, our world was very large. Today, it is very small. Our biggest daily events are going downstairs for ice cream at 3:30 and having dinner at 4:30.

In addition, we have great times when we are alone. Sometimes that happens in the morning when she wakes up early and is in a talkative mood. More often, it happens at night. We talk while watching music videos on YouTube. Our biggest surprise is that while our world is much smaller now than in the early stages of the disease, we have found ways to live joyfully.

We’ve learned to enjoy the little things. Best of all is simply being together. Every morning when she wakes up, I remind her that our first date was to a performance of Handel’s “Messiah,” and that we enjoyed it, but being together was the highlight of the evening. That is still the case today. I often refer to those times as “Happy Moments”. We’ve had quite a few of those in the past week. One of those days, she woke up at 6:30 in the morning, cheerful and talkative. That continued until she went to sleep that night. The other days were not as spectacular, but they, too, were punctuated with Happy Moments. Kitty Kallen was right. “Little Things Mean A Lot”. My perspective has changed significantly since I first heard that song.

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“Little Things Mean A Lot

In 1954, Kitty Kallen‘s “Little Things Mean a Lot” was number one on the charts, selling over 1 million copies. I was 14 at the time, and I don’t think I really understood the meaning and relevance of the song’s message. Now that I’m closing in on 86, it means much more to me.

Kate and I have lived well throughout our marriage. In fact, I’d say it’s been a joyful adventure. That was true even during the early stages of her Alzheimer’s. Early on, we decided to enjoy life and each other for as long as we were able. We did that by binging on all the things we had enjoyed before Alzheimer’s. That meant going to movies, theatrical and musical events, eating out, and traveling. During the first 10 years, we ate out for lunch and dinner more than 6000 times. We also attended many musical and theatrical events not only in Columbia, our hometown, but also in cities within a two-hour drive.

Travel also played an important role in our lives. We went on a safari in Tanzania, where we got a close look at lions, elephants, zebras, and other wild animals we had only seen in zoos. We swam with iguanas, turtles, and other marine life in the Galapagos Islands, and on our last international trip in 2015, we paraglided off a mountain in Switzerland where we turned a somersault on the way down.

Those days came to an end in 2020 after Kate had a traumatic experience during eight days in the hospital with COVID. She’s been in the last stage of Alzheimer’s ever since. Before that, our world was very large. Today, it is very small. Our biggest daily events are going downstairs for ice cream at 3:30 and having dinner at 4:30.

In addition, we have great times when we are alone. Sometimes that happens in the morning when she wakes up early and is in a talkative mood. More often, it happens at night. We talk while watching music videos on YouTube. Our biggest surprise is that while our world is much smaller now than in the early stages of the disease, we have found ways to live joyfully.

We’ve learned to enjoy the little things. Best of all is simply being together. Every morning when she wakes up, I remind her that our first date was to a performance of Handel’s “Messiah,” and that we enjoyed it, but being together was the highlight of the evening. That is still the case today. I often refer to those times as “Happy Moments”. We’ve had quite a few of those in the past week. One of those days, she woke up at 6:30 in the morning, cheerful and talkative. That continued until she went to sleep that night. The other days were not as spectacular, but they, too, were punctuated with Happy Moments. Kitty Kallen was right. “Little Things Mean A Lot”. My perspective has changed significantly since I first heard that song.

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Another Anniversary

Sarah and I celebrate another anniversary today. No, it’s not our wedding anniversary. That comes up in May. It’s not the anniversary of our first date. We celebrated that in December. The one we celebrate today is the fifteenth anniversary of Sarah’s diagnosis with Alzheimer’s.

We aren’t celebrating the fact that she got the diagnosis. It’s the fact that although our lives have changed dramatically since then, we are still enjoying life and each other. From the start, that was our goal, but we never imagined that we would be able to say that fifteen years later. We were simply doing the best we could as she was losing her memory. Along with that came her inability to do many of the things she had done before.

I am copying below my blog post on the first anniversary of her diagnosis. It deals with the changes that were occurring at that time.

January 21, 2012 by Richard Creighton

One Year Since Diagnosis

One year ago today, we met with Dr. Reasoner to receive the news that Kate’s results showed she has AD. During that year I have noted apparent declines in her memory, sometimes not quite sure whether the changes were real or not because they can be so subtle and similar to what we all do. At this point, there is no doubt that she has declined in a perceptible way.

A week ago last night we got back from our trip to Africa (Tanzania) with OAT. It was a great trip that we both enjoyed far more than anticipated. On the other hand, I felt as though I had to be watching and helping her every step of the way. I am having to assume more and more responsibility for everything.

She continues to get along well in normal interactions with people. I don’t think anyone on the trip would suspect her condition. Neither do I think our children or close friends suspect. I do sometimes wonder about her best friend, because she and Kate have had so many opportunities to talk and socialize together.

The most distressing thing to me is that Kate is so frustrated over her inability to do many things that she would have been able to do before. In the last 2 days she has commented that it’s the little things that bother her the most. From my perspective that would include things like remembering how to charge her cell phone or how to deal with a technician on the help line. She has great difficulty following a set of instructions. They simply overwhelm her. In our personal conversations when she indicates a problem and I automatically try to explain, she stops me because she can’tunderstand.

The whole situation makes me recall times when I hear people say something like, “Well, at least she doesn’t know.” I heard this when my mother was in the early stages. Kate is keenly aware that her memory is declining. She sees how much of her time is spent looking for simple things like car keys, her purse, etc.

It has gotten so bad that I feel I can’t depend on her to do anything. I either have to do it myself, or follow her to see that it is done. While on the trip, she picked out a bag to bring back to Doris. We bought it along with a couple of other things. Then after eating lunch (this was in our lodge) she went back into the gift shop. I saw her looking at the bags again and asked what she was looking for. She told me she was looking for a bag for Doris. She had not remembered buying the first one only 45 minutes to an hour earlier.

She is clearly discouraged. She is not sleeping well. I am not sure, however, how much is a result of jet lag and how much is anxiety over her condition. I think it is some combination of both.

Over the past year, I have cited specific instances of her memory failure. I suspect I may do less of that as so much occurs that I can’t recall the instances without writing things down at the time, and I find that impossible.

We enjoyed the Africa trip so much and are looking at possible trips to New Zealand, the Galapagos, Russia, and China. I fear, however, that our travels may be heavily influenced by her condition. Right now, for example, I am thinking of taking an OAT trip to New Zealand next January (2013), but I wonder whether or not that will be a good idea. I do believe we could do a cruise, but half of the time is spent on the water. I will wait until later in the year to see how things are going. I need to be honest about my own anxieties. This is a very trying time for me. My business is so bad that I had to let Regina go before Christmas. She had been with me for 28 years. Now I am wondering how long I can keep the doors open. Dad requires attention. This week he spent 2 days in the hospital. I am spending less time in the office. I need to spend more time with Kate. It is a difficult time. I am not sleeping as well as I used to.

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Ending the Year on a High Note

A large number of my posts in 2025 have focused on Kate’s unexpected progress. Even during the past few weeks, she has waked up with a smile more often than in the past few years. In addition, she seems to recognize me more often. More often than not, she has especially “Happy Moments” as we get her to bed. During this time, she talks and laughs. It’s a wonderful way to end the day. This has truly been a good year for us.

I can’t predict the future, but I am hopeful that in the year ahead I will continue to report good news. I am not naïve. I recognize that we have lived this way longer than the statistics would have predicted. I intend to stick with our plan to enjoy life and each other for as long as we can and be grateful for every Happy Moment that is ours. Wishing you and your family Happy Moments as well.

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Happy Moments Keep Coming

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Over the past week, Kate has had more Happy Moments than usual. This goes along with the gradual improvement that began 2-3 years ago. Saturday was an especially Happy Day. She was cheerful most of the day and into the evening. When she was having her afternoon ice cream, the two residents who drop by almost every day came by to catch a smile. They hit the jackpot. She not only smiled, but she also talked and laughed with them. At one point, one of them said, “What are you laughing at?” Kate quickly and clearly said, “At you!”

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Improving at Stage 7 Alzheimer’s. Can it be?

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Like many other people, I’ve often thought the progression of Alzheimer’s involves the loss of one ability after another, and there is truth to that. Fifteen years ago, Kate was driving, active on her computer, and tending to her plants at our house for hours each day. Today, she can’t walk, bathe, dress herself, or talk in a way that we can understand.

What is amazing is that she has improved in important ways over the past two to three years. She is happier now and although mornings are her most difficult time of the day, she often awakes in a cheerful mood.

I frequently talk about her “Happy Moments”. These are moments when she is cheerful and often accompanies that by talking. I use the term “moments” because her mood comes and goes throughout the day. She shifts between Happy Moments and what I call “Neutral Moments”. That is the way she is much of the time; however, during the past week, she has experienced more Happy Moments than usual.

One of those occurred on Labor Day morning. She was smiling when I first noticed that she was awake. After giving her morning medications, she began to talk. I got into bed with her to take advantage of the moment. She said, “It’s good to see you.” That may not seem special, but it is for someone who doesn’t speak at all most of the time, and when she does, you can’t understand her.

She continued to be cheerful off and on throughout the entire day. We went for ice cream that afternoon. As I was about to put the ice cream on the table, she said, “That’s mine.” It was Labor Day, and a few minutes later, I said, “It’s so quiet today. They don’t have many activities going on.” Kate immediately gave a startled look that meant “Really?” Responses like this let us know that she follows and understands much of what I and others say.

Moments like these make it clear to me that all is not lost with Alzheimer’s, not even during the late stages. She is still able to connect with people, and it appears that she enjoys it. I think there are a number of reasons for her improvement. I’ll save that for another post, but I hope that our experience might be encouraging to other families with a loved one who has dementia. I am sure that Kate isn’t the only one who could improve at this point in the disease.

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My Favorite Part of the Day

I’ve often noted that mornings are the most challenging part of the day for Kate. That is a time when she smiles and talks less than she does later in the day. Although that continues to be the case, she does smile and talk a little more in the morning than she has in years.

Having said this, the late afternoon and evening remain the times she is more comfortable and at ease, which leads to more smiling and talking. My favorite time of the day is after the caregiver leaves at 7:00. Our primary responsibilities are over, and we can relax together.

Not always, but very often, we spend our time talking while watching music videos on YouTube . It is our conversations that I enjoy the most. They are quite different from our pre-Alzheimer’s conversations. The disease and especially the loss of normal speech make it difficult to understand what she is saying.

What is important to me is that she is relaxed. She is eager to talk. She is happy. She is also more comfortable talking with me than most people she encounters during the day. That tells me that our relationship is still special for her, just as it is for me, and that means the world to me.

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One Fine Day

I often mention the “Happy Moments” that Kate and I share. I chose that expression to convey that these are not continuous experiences; however, we are fortunate that they occur every day. Some days we have more happy moments than other days. Once in a while, we have a day filled with them. We had one of those the other day.

Kate began the day in a cheerful mood. She smiled, and she talked. It was one of those mornings when I got in bed with her, and we talked with music playing in the background. I love moments like this because they seem like we are connecting the way we did before Alzheimer’s, even though she can’t recall past events or speak in a way that I can understand.                                                                                                                                                                                                  

Later, she talked and laughed as the caregiver and I got her ready for the day. That’s saying a lot because she doesn’t like being rolled to one side and then the other in order to get her dressed.

She remained in this mood for the balance of the day until we turned the lights out that night.

Like so many things, I can’t explain what brought this about. I only know that it was “One Fine Day”. The days since then haven’t been quite the same, but they have been days of more Happy Moments than usual. Moments like this won’t last forever, but we will enjoy and cherish them whenever they occur.

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More Happy Moments

Kate continues to experience more “Happy Moments” than she did 3-4 years ago. That has been especially true during the past couple of weeks. I often say that I can never predict how she will feel. She can be happy at one moment and withdrawn the next; however, I have come to expect her to be more at ease after 3:00 in the afternoon and often until she goes to sleep at night. That had not been so predictable since her stroke three years ago.

After the caregiver left last night, she and I experienced a Happy Moment that I would call very romantic. I was beside her in bed with my head on her shoulder. We watched a DVD of the 2025 anniversary concert of Les Miserables, our favorite musical.

Touch is more important to her now than at earlier stages, perhaps because she has aphasia. As we enjoyed the music, I put one hand across her stomach, and she put her hand on my hand. In a few moments, she began to stroke my hand gently. As I often do, I talked with her about some of the special times we had had in the past. She didn’t say much, but she was able to communicate her affection with beautiful smiles as I talked. This lasted for about an hour until the concert was over, and we called it an evening.

Her Alzheimer’s, her hospitalization with Covid, and her stroke made this romantic evening different than it might have been in years past, but there was a connection between us that made this particular moment as romantic as any we have ever experienced. We have lost much since her diagnosis fourteen years ago, but we still enjoy life and each other.

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Living Joyfully During the Holiday Season

The Christmas season has always been special for Kate and me. We had our first date on December 19, 1961. Exactly one year later we became engaged. Since then we have celebrated the season in many ways. Like most people, much of that involved time with family, but we have also made December trips to places like New York City, London, Paris, Vienna, London, and several locations in Germany.

Life is very different now. We gave up international travel in 2015 and travel to our children’s homes in 2018. Since then, we have celebrated the season at home. Now that Kate is in the last stage of Alzheimer’s and requires total care for all of her daily activities, we don’t get out except within the halls of our retirement community.

Despite these changes, we are living joyfully this Christmas. Living in our retirement community has provided us with a considerable amount of social contact and special events of the season; however, sharing the season with Kate has made this a Very Merry Christmas for me.

By now, most of you know that music has played a major role in our lives, so it should not surprise you that we have binged on holiday music day and night the past few weeks. More importantly, Kate seems to have risen to the occasion. She has been unusually cheerful and talkative, especially in the past two weeks. For example, almost every day in the past week, she has given me a smile when I greeted her in the morning. That is significant because her mornings are the time of day she is least likely to smile or talk.

Her afternoons, especially after 3:30, are her best time of day, but they have been even better this week. Our regular caregiver was out a few days, and we had several others filling in. I might have thought this would have a negative effect on her, but it hasn’t. She has been just as cheerful with them and other residents.

Our evenings are often special. Three nights ago was a good example. Kate was unusually talkative and spent the better part of an hour talking to me. She was trying to tell me about some experience she had had. As she talked, she laughed at a number of things she said. Of course, none of what she said had actually occurred, and I wasn’t able to understand most of what she said; however, she was happy. I was too.

Yesterday was the sixty-third anniversary of our first date. We didn’t go out for dinner. We ate in the dining room of our retirement community as we do every night, but we were together. Nothing could be better than that. We are, indeed, living joyfully this Christmas season.