Judy Fero

Fero and her dad pose for a selfie on Thanksgiving in 2021. Through World War II, Slocum specialized in communications as a soldier in the United States Army. Along the way, he developed a fondness for the homing pigeons used by the military forces.

When she was a little girl, Fero saw her dad as a protector. Nowadays, she tries her best to assume that role for his sake. Known as quite the character around his Howlett Hill neighborhood, Joe Slocum is pictured here with a furry friend.

Joe Slocum proudly showing off his giant sunflowers.

A daughter’s love softens the blow of memory loss

Jason Klaiber

Growing up Judy Fero depended on her father in various times of need, seeing him as an accessible and protective figure in her life despite their contrasting hobbies.

Later on, when her mother was dealing with hip osteoarthritis and a form of dementia prior to her passing in 2013, he picked up the slack by covering the cooking, cleaning and shopping duties for his other half.

These days, though, Fero feels continually inspired to attend to her aging father in gratitude for those years of parenting and the example he set in her presence.

Now 98, Joe Slocum has yet to be clinically diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease, but he shows many of the tell-tale signs according to his youngest daughter.

Often he fails to recognize her and other once-familiar faces, and sometimes he wishes to go home when he’s already there.

Like a barometer his mood has become almost “weatherdependent,” Fero says—brimming with positivity on the average warm, sunshiny day and growing more “sullen” on cold, rainy ones. With his memory loss also comes a blow or two to his so-called “social graces,” she adds, citing his reduced and occasionally even absent filter.

From Fero’s recollection, it was around the time her dad hit the age of 95 that his cognitive decline became more noticeable. At that point, he was still driving his compact car, but it became commonplace for him to get lost on the road and misgauge his surroundings a block away from his driveway.

After one too many disoriented detours, Slocum’s physician made a recommendation based on judgment, age and reaction time that he was no longer fit to drive despite his protests and clean driving record, causing Fero to prevent any serious accidents by requesting that the New York State Department of Motor Vehicles revoke her father’s license.

Just last year, in a separate episode, he neglected to eat or drink enough and collapsed from dehydration in the summer heat as Fero was mowing the lawn.

It was at that moment that she realized it would be a bigger task to look after her dad than one might think.

“It takes a village,” said Fero, 59. “If you can find good caregivers, they’re worth their weight in gold.”

With the help of a pair of caretakers who visit daily and a Camillus doctor’s wellness check-ups, she manages to keep an eye on her dad, vowing to herself that she would never admit him to a nursing home. Day to day, Fero works as an account clerk in the food services division for the North Syracuse Central School District, a job that calls on her to reconcile the money for its 11 schools in order to make sure all the kids are fed.

When it comes to taking care of her near-centenarian father, she handles the driving and the shopping, and she clothes and bathes him. Additionally, she calls him on the phone every morning to ask how he’s doing and what he had for breakfast.

In a pinch, she heads as fast as she can to his household in the town of Onondaga either from her workplace or her own home 10 miles away on the north side of Syracuse.

As her dad’s mental decline advances and worsens, the sight of it all saddens her and fills her with “anticipatory grief.”

“It’s gut-wrenching to see,” Fero said. “And it’s frustrating I think in the sense that you see the decline and know it’s not gonna get better.

There’s a progression to it.”

The bright spots still have a way of peeking through, however. Music particularly helps him to tap his toes and reminisce, Fero said, throwing in that he has the time of his life watching footage of the leisure-suit-wearing Lawrence Welk and the hip-swiveling Elvis Presley.

“It’s interesting how music can bring back the emotions,” she said, though she prefers the musical stylings of The Doors and Pink Floyd to Welk. “My dad remembers things and melodies from long ago, but recent things just don’t stick as much.”

Fero also mentioned her father’s love of animals. Seeing the neighbor’s dog makes him “feel like a million bucks,” she said, but nothing compares to the pigeons he kept as pets through the years. A veteran of the United States Army, Slocum served in World War II on the communications end, right alongside the homing pigeons used for reconnaissance and message deliveries.

His affinity for these birds continued for decades after he got out of the war, and up until only a handful of years ago, he would release them and time them for sport as an active member of the Syracuse Racing Pigeon Club.

Eventually, the trouble he had summoning the energy for the competitive activity was coupled with sorrow after an uninvited badger decimated his carrier pigeon loft. He decided then to give away his remaining birds to fellow club members and friends.

“In the club, they took them and used them as breeding stock too, so there’s probably some of his birds’ great grandchildren flying around today,” Fero said.

Though his memory has slipped and some of his spiritedness has gone as of late, Slocum is still able to ascend staircases, pick dandelions in the yard and garden, Fero remarked.

“I’m really blessed that he’s as healthy as he is,” she said. “Plus not everyone makes it to 98.”

At the moment, Fero said the best she can do is help her father live comfortably and lessen any suffering in the time he has left, all while making it known again and again that he’s well-loved. SWM