Death & Grief, Parenting, Self-Help
Date Published: 06-20-2023
Publisher: Koehler Books
A week before Christmas 1951, Dr. Ralph Russell risked everything to
voluntarily enter a locked federal drug-treatment facility known as a
"narcotic farm."
Sixty-five years later, Dr. Russell's granddaughter Debbie suffers a
debilitating crisis of identity when her father (Dr. Russell's oldest son),
always her biggest fan, is accepted into hospice.
Debbie's investigation into her paternal lineage reveals family secrets and
ignites her mother's volatile outbursts, propelling her into therapy.
When therapy fails her, the grandfather Debbie never knew saves her, and
she collaborates with her dying father one last time to make her biggest
dream come true.
Crossing Fifty-One pulls back the curtain on the internal struggles of
midlife and provides a blueprint for redefining one's self beyond the
constraints of addiction and dysfunctional family dynamics.
Excerpt
Chapter 1
Now: Christmas 2015
“Should I call 911?” The server smiles politely, her eyes
locked on Dad.
“Let’s give it a minute,” I respond, attempting to
project a pleasant, calm demeanor I don’t actually feel. The last
thing Dad wants is to be responsible for lunch being called off.
Miraculously, Mum nervously agrees.
Nodding, the server glides away.
Slumped in his chair, eyes closed, Dad does not move. At least he’s
not thrashing around on the floor. That would draw too much attention.
The muted sounds of conversation and clinking silverware blend seamlessly
with Nat King Cole’s “Have Yourself a Merry Little
Christmas.” The upscale St. Paul restaurant, a lovely relic of the
Victorian era, is decked out in holiday splendor, appealing to Mum’s
heightened need for that certain aesthetic. My reservation has secured us a
cozy table near the fireplace. We are tucked behind one of several
glittering Christmas trees scattered throughout the restaurant. Table
placement is key. Mum cherishes her privacy even when dining out.
However, despite all my efforts at concealment, a young woman makes her way
over to our table. “I wasn’t meaning to eavesdrop,” she
begins, “but I work in a nursing home, and this happens pretty
regularly.”
Her gentle voice calms me but glancing at Mum and seeing the fake smile she
dons like a mask, I feel my heart beat a bit faster. We have been
exposed.
The young woman continues. “One little trick I’ve learned is to
put a Kleenex or napkin in front of the person’s face to monitor their
breathing.”
I could see Dad was breathing, but now I struggle to control the slight
panic that has crept in and taken its place in my chair at our table.
I suppose there are worse ways to go.
Since Dad’s Parkinson’s diagnosis over a decade ago, I’ve
had a front-row seat to his slow disappearance. Once the buffer and the glue
for our little family, he now struggles to fulfill his most important role:
keeping Mum happy. This morning, he insisted that he could manage the
holiday lunch outing, but just getting from the car into the restaurant was
touch and go.
I exhaled once we were seated at our semi-secluded table. We ordered our
food, and Mum immediately began prattling on about how lovely everything
looked. I nodded and smiled, playing my role as a dutiful, devoted daughter.
When Mum finally paused her soliloquy, we both glanced over at Dad.
He was out cold.
That was about ten minutes ago. Or was it ten hours? I can’t
tell.
Mum keeps talking. I guess it helps her take her mind off her unconscious
husband. I keep smiling while monitoring Dad’s breathing out of the
corner of my eye. The restaurant staff hovers in as nice a way as possible.
Finally, we agree that 911 should be called.
After what seems like forever, three burly paramedics make their way back
to our table. By this time, Dad is coming around.
“What did I miss?” He smiles weakly.
His smile fades as he glances over at Mum.
“I’m so very sorry.”
About the Author
Debbie Russell is a lawyer-turned writer. She spent twenty-five years as an
Assistant County Attorney in Minneapolis, prosecuting numerous high-profile
cases—specializing in those involving domestic and child abuse. At age
fifty-five, Debbie took early retirement, giving up a full pension for the
freedom of time. She now spends that precious time writing, restoring her
property to native prairie and wetlands, and training her rambunctious
retrievers.
Debbie’s first published article appeared in the Minneapolis Star
Tribune in 2001. After that small triumph, her writing focused primarily on
legal briefs and memoranda, which were consigned to district court files.
Debbie resumed creative writing in 2014 when she began her storytelling blog
by sharing personal stories and professional experiences that touched her
life in a significant way. Her top-ranked December 2021 article for Elephant
Journal, an online journal that celebrates the mindful life is entitled
“Getting the Most out of Therapy: Easier Said than Done,” and is
partially based on events in her book.
Debbie's award-winning book, Crossing Fifty-One: Not Quite a Memoir, was
released in June of 2023. In 2024, she became a regular contributor to the
Minnesota Star Tribune, writing about criminal justice and adjacent
issues.
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