SOME CAME KNOCKING

Blissed out over the past few days, rereading Still Here, by Ram Dass.   My first reading was soon after its 2000 publication.  Mom & I read it together.  A blessing & a blissing, reading it in tandem - we read it on our own, Mom doing most of her reading during the day, while I was at work, with me taking the evening shift.  Every couple days, we'd connect over a cuppa for a good gab about what we'd read, or we'd be so moved by a particular part that we'd share it immediately with the other.  Even at the time, it was clear that having such a remarkable opportunity was a singular grace.  Reading it again is an equally - yet different - wondrous experience, reflecting over & over the awe-inspiring nature of Mom's eldering journey.

Things happened to Mom that were waaaay outside the norm.  In Chapter 5, Shifting Roles, Ram Dass notes that "most elders don't know, themselves, what it is they have to offer.  And remember that young people won't be coming to our doors saying, 'Hey, old folks, you've got something we want. We need your wisdom & perspective.'"

In Mom's case, they did!  Younger people DID let her know that she had something they valued, that they craved her wisdom & perspective. 

How cool is that? 

Mom sort of stumbled into writing her Mindwalker1910 e-mail postings.  Blogging hadn't taken off yet, but over about an 19-month period ~ Feb 2000-Sept 2001 ~ she shared her memories, thoughts & commentaries with an ever-widening circle of e-mail friends.  She got into it through being part of two very different - in fact, diametrically opposite - online discussion groups.  That participation got her feet wet, but she was still writing under MY e-mail address.  It was a heated discussion with my far-away sister-in-law that made her want her own online identity.  And it grew from that into something very special.

She DID have people - all over the globe - telling her how important what she wrote was to them.  Through their comments, shared & private, Mom came to be aware of her "elder-gifts," something she'd resisted (as do most older people in our culture) for years.  Today, people still share with me how something she wrote over a dozen years ago continues to touch their lives. 

It was NOT easy convincing Mom that what she had to say, her life experience, her perspective of the world - her SELF - had value.  I'd tried for years to make her see the value of what she had to offer & she resisted resisted resisted.  Easier to believe others who diminished the gifts she had to offer.  By myself, I never could have.  What a blessing for her & countless others that some came knocking, letting her know, loud & clear, that they needed her unique wisdom & perspective. 

If realizing that doesn't bliss me out, what could?!?!

SPOOKY WONDERFUL

Beyond amazing that a friend of John's recommended him to a woman whose mother is in a nearby, full-services senior care residence.  The daughter, who lives a good 3 hours away, was hopeful that my artist hubster could get together with her 96-year old mom to do some artwork.

This morning was John's first meeting with his potential client.  We were both taken aback to realize that she is in the medical section of the residence.  It turned out that the woman had suffered some sort of medical situation earlier in the morning & the staff doubted she'd be up for any sort of get together, let alone a drawing session.

While John was meeting with the olderster, I waited at the nurse's station.  On an end table, propped against a lamp, was a darling bear in a pink party dress.  Being a mega stuffie lover from way back, I asked about the sweet thing.  It turned out it belonged to the very woman John was meeting, that she took it everywhere with her. 

Just then, a procession of an aide, a nurse pushing a wheel chair with a very frail old lady in it, and John bringing up the rear, caring drawing supplies, passed me, on the way to the Enrichment Room. 

It was very clear that the woman was not only old & frail, but was in a far more advanced stage of Alzheimer's than had been described.  The staff's faces & demeanor showed they had very little hope of John connecting with her. 

I followed, standing a bit off as John & the frail old woman were seated at a table, the drawing pad in front of her, a box of crayons to her left.  She seemed somewhat distressed, making small noises, not making any eye contact, fidgeting with the top button of her sweater.  The possibility of having any sort of meaningful time with her seemed slim to none.

John reached over and, talking to her, gently undid the top button. She slid the sweater off her shoulders, still without any eye contact with my hubster.  I was keeping out of the picture, since one stranger can be stressful enough.  Watching the two of them, John talking to her in a tender voice, her not responding or even seeming aware of his presence, a thought hit me.  I hoofed it back to the nurse's station, picked up the teddy, and double-timed it back.  Walking slowly & softly to the opposite side of the table, I put the bear down in front of the woman. 

It took a few moments until she focused on the beloved stuffie, but oh - when she did!  Her face lit up & her whole countenance relaxed.  Seizing on the moment, John talked about her bear, keeping his comments general & pleasant. When she responded, looking at him with a smile, he told her about our own bears.  I don't know what else followed, as I tiptoed away.

What were the odds that the bear would be right where it was, when it was?  Coincidence?  I think not.  One thing is for sure - will always remember the procession that came back about 10 minutes later, the woman seeming to be just as unaware as she had going in, but the aide & the nurse & John all grinning away. 

The once dubious nurse was in happy shock - "We didn't think you'd get her to do anything.  We couldn't get her to draw more than a circle!"  Seems that John suggested the elderly artist use the bear as her model.  Did they draw more than a few lines?  No.  Was it a rare meaningful moment for a mind-fogged old lady?  I haven't a doubt.  A painter in her earlier life, John made it possible - on many levels - for her to express her artist soul, even if just an echo.  Will always remember how he responded to her, the tender way he spoke to her, the manner in which he made her feel safe & then drew out the creative energy so long dormant within her.  It might have been just for an instant, but it WAS.

All because of a tender-hearted artist with a talent for connection & compassion and a little bear in a pink party dress.  Spooky wonderful, indeed!

SERIOUSLY???

Still stunned by an article I saw in a well-respected national magazine. It focused on health issues that need addressing throughout a woman's LIFETIME - which tests & exams to get at 20, at 30, at 40 & 50. 

And there, it stopped. 

What's that all about? 

Post-menopausal women don't exist? 

Didn't even bother covering  themselves with a patronizing "60+." Nothing. Nada. 

Sheez...

BULKING UP, BUILDING OUT

My philosophy for preparing to work with "grannie clients" is identical to back in my eons-ago pre-teaching days.  Seemed to my college self that it was way more important to develop myself as a person than to take a curriculum severely limited to "teaching of" technique courses.  Oh, I considered technique important.  It's just that, to me, it seemed to play the secondary role. 

Which explains why my degree from what's now Bryn Athyn College is in Philosophy, with a History minor - -  a radical major for a "New Church" woman back in the early 1970s.  As a sophomore & later as a senior, I was grilled - twice! - by the head of the Ed Dept for the WHY behind what was to him a downright quixotic pursuit. 

How awesomely amazing for a young woman, barely in my twenties, to be forced to explain & defend to a mega authority figure my very reasons for a life pursuit!  

 

Can still hear the department head warning me, "Just because you take an extra year of Ed classes is no guarantee that you'll get a job within the church school system, even if one should arise."   Remember taking a pause & a deep breath before responding, "Yes, Mr. Gladish, I understand that.  But if I don't take the classes & a job opportunity does come up, it's a guarantee that I won't get it."

After taking my degree, I did come back - as I'd always planned - for a 5th year of the very "teaching of" courses I'd bypassed.  And when a job teaching in the local elementary school came up, I was hired! 

 

No one was more surprised than moi that I turned out to be a bit a trailblazer, one of a few women whose actions showed a keen interest in the college's exceptional teachers & learning environment, not just its ed degree.  FYI - today, Bryn Athyn College offers TEN majors! 

I've set out to be a similar trail blazer with elder care.  Yes, I lack what many senior care professionals assume are basic techniques.  I have no expertise in helping with day-to-day life functions.  Nor do I ever expect to.  Still, I've come to give great value to the unusual quality I do bring to my grannie clients & their appreciative families. 

Just as I wasn't done with my preparation back when I got that bachelor's degree, I'm far from finished now.  And what's needed now seems the same as what it was almost forty years ago - learning basic skill sets. Not as in how to help grannies & other grands with day-to-day functional needs.  That's not my area of strength.  But learning & mastering the mechanics of turning whatever it is I do into shareable formats.  I've developed the ME part of what I bring, but it's limited to affecting the quality of life of two, maybe three olders.  It feels like my life purpose is to help others get countless seniors engaged, energized & empowered.  Time to bulk up & build out my shareable skill sets!

Been here before.  In 2013 - as in 1973 - it's time to knuckle down, to get going, to move onward & upward!

THE FAMILY ~ a play in countless acts

It doesn't seem to me that our family was all that different from way too many families - -  we had our assigned roles (assigned by some unknown energy) & were expected, perhaps most by ourselves, to play them as written.  Sometimes drama, sometimes comedy, often satire, it never occurred to me that the best thing would have been to chuck the scripted roles & opt for improv.  

 
What a blessing experiencing Mom going through older age, when she set aside the tried & true roles and sterling performances she'd delivered for almost 90 years.  She'd arrived at the great AH HA! that "growth keeps right on going, ideally right out of the ceilings of our cramped opinion."  How truly awesome to experience her stepping away from those cramped opinions, aka old roles, into an unfamiliar light.  She stopped following the lines some unknowable force had written for her, choosing instead to wing it, improvising within the moment.

 THE  FAMILY brings a different meaning to "home theater."   So, shift from Tennessee Williams & Lillian Hellman to Second City & Christopher Guest.  Improvise!  Let people in your lives develop within the present moment, in response to present circumstances, rather than acting out an assigned part.  Instead of continually reviving theatre pieces complete with scripts & staging, let's create lives out of whatever there is, experience where it comes from & see where it goes to. 
 
How many times in my life have I wanted to know where a situation was going to end up, how a "scene" would resolve itself?  One of the great things learned from my husband has been that we don't - can't - KNOW how things will resolve, that all we can do is turn in the best performance we can with what props are at hand.  And if we don't take a shine to where that takes us, we can try a different spin the next time.  There is no final curtain, just endless opportunities to develop grow expand. 
 
It was REALLY hard for Mom to give up the expectation that her role was to be the mother, the person who kissed the boo boos & stepped up with solutions to her kids' problems.  It was REALLY hard for her to stop casting herself in the adult role, with me & my sibs in the children's roles.  It was REALLY hard for her older children to stop seeing her in a maternal role & recast her in a whole new role, whatever that might be for them. 
 
Many people are great fans of THE  FAMILY.  It can simplify life, with its easy-to-grasp roles & lines & scenarios.  Better to be forever cast in a role than have to constantly write your own lines & blocking.  With improv, you're forced to build off of whatever the others hand you, which means letting it register in the first place. 

Living within an improv environment helps as our loved ones grow seriously older, with all the challenges & even heartbreaks associated with advancing years & frailer selves.  If we've been improvising with what's at hand, then the challenges of a frailer body, even a challenged mind are experienced as another change of scene, rather than a rewrite of an established role. 

In an improv setting, THE  FAMILY  differs from day to day, from moment to moment.  It easily adjusts changing circumstances, whether joyful (an accomplishment, wedding, a birth, an accomplishment) or daunting (a job loss, a divorce, a death).  If the core idea is to develop spontaneous performance, rather than refine a set role within a given script, then we can adjust & readjust throughout life times. 

This seems especially important with older people, particularly with significantly older people.  Perhaps one family member feels strongly that because Mom is almost 90, she shouldn't be making her own medical decisions.  Another might be distressed that 60+ Dad balks at drawing up plans to turn over the family business.  They see their parents through the prism of expected roles.  Imagine how different the experience if they saw their parents as sharp as a tack at 89 or expecting to work for as long as he's capable.     
 
Improv actors build off of each other's performance, stimulated & inspired by what they experience in the here & now rather than repeating words on a page written by an absent, maybe long-dead playwright.  Great improv is all about interchange, the building of performance between two people or within an ensemble.  No interchange, no improv, even if it's just the audience yelling out situations or providing props. And it can take off into unexpected directions at the drop of a baseball hat or the suggestion of "you're a penquin."  Sometimes it's okay, sometimes mediocre or flat or lousy, but then there's that jewel of an unforgettable performance. 
 
Child, sibling, co-worker, spouse, widow, elderly.  Move past such roles, with ourselves & with others.  Help create opportunities for individual performance, whatever it might be at any given moment.  With older friends & loved ones, that means creating fostering developing environments where they are free to express themselves, to keep on growing, right out of the cramped confines of restrictive roles. Role play rather than play a set role.  
 
Perhaps the greatest challenge for a person getting up there in years is no longer knowing what lines they are meant to speak, no longer sure of the role they're expected to play.  They can feel abandoned on life's stage, in a relentless spotlight, unable to speak or turn or even exit.  It might not be now, it might not be for years & years, but all of us will ultimately be thrust out of our set roles & into inescapable improvisation, reacting to unexpected twists & turns.  How much better for all if we're old hands at running with whatever comes next.
 
As traditional theater, THE  FAMILY - with its countless acts - limits restricts confines.  As improv, it allows individuals & the greater whole to create & recreate, to respond to changes as the norm, to deliver great performances within the available space, however large or small, and time, however long or short.   

 

FREE-RANGE AGING

That term sings to me!  Makes me envision countless olders, released from imposed cages - however pleasant - experiencing all that they can!

FREE-RANGE LIVING

As I waited yesterday for a grannie client, realized that over 30 minutes went by without seeing a single face - except staff & companions - under seventy.  Gave me pause.  Realized anew the importance of getting older relatives & loved ones OUT into the bigger, broader world. 

Today is Wednesday, which means taking a grannie client up to Centre Bridge Inn to hear the awesome Barbara Trent deliver her wondrous jazz stylings.  When we walk in, folks at the bar - kids in their 60s & 70s - will turn & break out into greetings, happy as all get out at my g.f.'s arrival.  They'll call her by name & ask how she is.  At least one will come over to our table to give her a big hug.  The bartender will bring over her favorite drink, without it being ordered, just as she likes it - house vodka, straight up, rocks on the side, no garnish.  She will wordlessly commune with Barbara, the two of them having long ago formed a mutual admiration society.

Did I mention that my g.f. will turn 93 next month?  That she's faced increasing memory problems for many years?  Yes, she doesn't nip down the flight of steps to the tavern room like she did twenty years ago & is blessed that her friends take having to repeat themselves totally in stride.  Her attitude, her zest for life, seems undiminished.  

Would that be possible if she was more or less confined to her senior residence, as pleasant as it is?  Is it probable she remains engaged, energized & empowered because of her free-range lifestyle, going out on rambles & even adventures, rather than staying confined to her apartment, the facility, or the very nice bus that takes groups to the mall & on outings?    

EASY TO FORGET

It's easy to forget that one of my grannie clients has some memory problems.  She can be so sharp, so with it, and downright "hip," that the need for respectful vigilance can slip my mind. 

This past weekend, she was using a ladies' room in an unfamiliar supermarket in a village some distance from her home.  I was waiting for her in the wide, clearly (I thought) visible front aisle.  Now, she can take her time in the ladies' room; unlike me & most of my non-makeup wearing friends, she has to double-check her lipstick & hairstyle & make sure she's "presentable."   So, it took about five minutes or so for me to get a bit concerned that she hadn't rejoined me. 

Moving into the center of the aisle & looking over toward the ladies' room, I spotted my friend, frozen to the spot in the café, looking totally alone & scared to death. 

She walked out of the ladies' room, into the café.  That's what it would have looked like to anyone seeing her.  What was actually happening was she walked out a semi-familiar setting (supermarket ladies' rooms look pretty much the same all over), into the complete unknown.  She didn't know where she was, what town she was in, why she was there.  I spotted her about a minute later.

It's so easy with someone so typically sharp to forget she occasionally gets a bit fuzzy.  I am so proud of her.  She shared her harrowing experience as information, without a sense of rebuke or betrayal. God bless her & praise be for all the blessings she brings to my life. 

UNINTENDED CONSEQUENCES

Have been thinking quite a bit lately about a wide range of unintended consequences.  A lot of times, those consequences are none too pretty.  Sometimes, they are wondrous. 

This past Monday is a prime example of a bright, shining unintended consequence.  The Presbyterian chaplain at a grannie client's senior residence has made a significant difference in her life.  She enjoys his Bible study class & takes special interest in his series on comparative religion.   She always has a lighter step & a beaming smile after one of Chaplain Tom's presentations.

On behalf of my grannie client, I arranged a tour of the church we both attend.  Two recently retired (semi, in Jeremy's case) church leaders accepted our invitation to join us.   The three ministers & both of us enjoyed the tour, which was capped off by lunch at the nearby Be Well Café.  

What had been intended to be special thank you to a gifted minister turned out to be a special gift to my grannie client.  Since entering the senior residence, she's been wistfully regretful about living in two different, unconnected worlds - - her longtime hometown, where she still goes to church, and the very nice senior residence. 

When I first suggested arranging the tour & lunch, it hadn't dawned on me that the two would serve as a bridge between her two worlds.  What a wonder it was, experiencing her in the presence of three men she knew so very well - her pastor & bishop & the minister currently most present in her life - enjoying each other, sharing life experiences & playful banter & some truly awful jokes. 

Building a bridge between my grannie client's two worlds - now forever connected - wasn't my plan, but it's right up there with the top three unintended consequences in my life!!

NOTHING VENTURED....

As a thank you from a grannie client for a terrific series on comparative religion, I invited the chaplain of her senior residence to a tour of our cathedral.  Then, being a big believer in "nothing ventured, nothing gained, I asked both the recently retired executive bishop of our church and the recently retired pastor of our local congregation  if he'd be interested in joining us.  The Presbyterian chaplain accepted & the other two said, YES!

This morning - a pearl of a day, with the countryside bathed in autumn colors, my grannie client & I had a grand time with all three!  The two of us tagged along as Rt. Rev. Tom Kline, Rev. Jeremy Simons (now cathedral chaplain) & Rev. Tom Summers traipsed around first the cathedral nave et al, then walked the grounds around it. 

Will go to my grave unsure which held the greatest delight for my beaming grannie client et moi - the cathedral tour or lunch afterwards at Be Well Bakery & Cafe.   Both of us enjoyed ourselves to the hilt, listening to the three ministers enjoy each other's company over a delectable meal. 

As the two of us drove back to her senior residence, my grannie client asked, "HOW did you make this wonderful time happen?"  It was as simple as could be - I asked.  And the three gentlemen came through, BIG time, creating a moment my grannie client will forever hold in her heart.  

To each of them - thanks, thanks & more thanks!

BEAU IDEAL

Friends of ours recently visited their London-based daughter & son-in-law.  Dave's truly older parents went with them, as well as their son & daughter-in-law & toddlerish son. 

Four generations, visiting loved ones in England before heading to France. 

 

The Z's - - my very beau ideal of wondrous eldering!

UNLIVED LIVES

One thing I will never lay claim to is being any sort of pseudo-psychologist or counselor, a giver of deeply personal advice & explorer of hidden issues.  That's because I've been blessed to know people who are gifted & trained in such matters ~ ~ Mark Carlson, Kevyn Malloy, Kim Vargas, to name a few ~ ~ and recognize the chasm between them & an interested friend.

So, I am left contemplating if it's commonplace for the truly older to look back with curiosity at earlier moments in their life, at roads not take, at choices made.  It's something I've experienced with some grannie clients, something I experienced with my own mother.  Not a matter of regrets for their lives, just a realization that things could have turned out so very different from the way they did, a desire to consider the sweet "What if..?"  rather than harbor a regretful "If only..."

DEATH informs LIFE

Today is a friend's birthday.  She's been posting pictures of her daughter's wedding on Facebook.  What joy & sweet remembrance in seeing those wonderful photos, especially seeing Kim looking so happy & hardly any older than the year we taught 6th grade, than when she was married over a winter wonderland Christmas.  How blessed her children are to have her as their mom, how blessed she is to be sharing these years with them.

Maybe I'm super susceptible to such sentimental meanderings, having just watched (again) Raising Helen.   The plotline about a Manhattan fashionista suddenly handed custody of her nieces & nephew after their parents’ sudden death makes scenes of mothers & adult daughters especially sweet.  And having just reread Erin & Doug Kramp's Living With The End In Mind makes me appreciate anew the young father's wisdom in addressing the unthinkable possibility of their unexpected passing. 
 
The first question in the book's first chapter asks, "Why should you read a book about embracing your mortality when the ultimate goal is to live?"  Their answer ~ "Because death informs life.  We can go about our day-to-day lives, or we can use the knowledge that we all will die to gain perspective on what is important today ~ whether we are healthy or ill."
 
The first personal sense my John had of Mom was the night the two of us first talked about getting married.  When I pulled out the church liturgy to look over wedding-related services & rituals, we discovered a piece of paper acting as a marker for "Funerals."  It was a list of hymns Mom wanted for her memorial service.  At the time, Mom was hale & hearty, on her 6th of 7 trips to Australia.  It was both a chortle & a WOW! moment, making me realize how cool it was of her to have thought ahead, to have written them down, and placed them where, if the need had come up, we would have found them.  And it left John pretty drop-jawed with amazement at the person who jotted down those page numbers.
 
Death informs life.  Did we use those hymns for Mom's memorial celebration?  No, we did not - she took a different route, asking each of her children to pick a favorite.  But having those jotted down numbers opened the door, it started a conversation.  Not only did it make it easier on all of us when the day finally did dawn that we had to organize Mom's memorial celebration, it became an opportunity for her to connect with each of her children, to let them know their participation in that special moment was special to her, to let each of her children feel a direct part of remembering Mom. 
 
How blessed I am to have the friends who post such wonderful moments in their lives.  How blessed I was to have a Mom who always seemed to live with the end in mind, enjoying each moment while preparing herself - and us - for the last.

BE PREPARED

Rewind 16 years. Just around this time, Mom & I were putting the finishing touches on plans for the road trip of her dreams, down to EPCOT, with stops in Williamsburg (which she loved), Charleston (which she longed to visit) & extra special lodgings in Jacksonville.  We had a grand time, from our first stop (for a late breakfast in Philadelphia) to our last nightcap at Wilderness Lodge. 

As we headed back north, little did I suspect that the most wondrous part of the trip was about to unfold!

A hallmark of our coastal route south were the audiotapes we listened to as the miles rolled by - Stephen Covey, Louise Hay, Marianne Williamson, John Bradshaw, Wayne Dwyer, and lots of Willie Nelson.  On the trip back, working our way up the Great Smoky Mountains to the Blue Ridge, the tapes remained tucked away in their carrying case as Mom & I got into lengthy discussions about her memorial celebration.

Yes, that's right - we talked, at great length, about the ways she hoped her family & friends would celebrate her life at her passing.  It was amazing!  Not a smidgen of sadness or gloom touched those talks.  The miles sped by as we spun those highly energized, life-affirming conversations!  We learned a lot about each other - and ourselves - as we considered the ins & outs & 'round abouts of how Mom hoped she'd pass & how she wanted us to experience it as joy, rather than sorrow.

Four years later, those conversations & the ideas that were bandied about made it easy, even uplifting, to deal with Mom's last hospitalizations, her brief hospice, and arranging her memorial celebrations.  There was no wondering which hymns she wanted - Mom had asked each of her children to select a song for the service.  We didn't have to ponder the special music - Mom not only had outlined what she wanted, in at least one case she'd asked friends if they'd sing solos.  Three years before she passed, Mom asked a minister especially dear to her heart if he would do her service.  We'd gone through her photos to pick out which ones she thought would give a good view of what was a most fortunate life. 

One thing she wished she had done before she was left unable to write was to leave notes note for each of her children & children-of-her-heart.  Other than that, she felt satisfied with how well prepared we'd all be when her time came.

When it came to preparing for her final days & passing, Mom fully lived with the end in mind.  Like a good Boy Scout, she was prepared.

Contrast our happy memories of  Mom's passing - at 91, she wore out, rather than rusted out, just as she'd hoped -  with the experience of friends, whose mother died.  Unlike Mom, she & her family had shied away from discussing end-of-life issues.  As she lay, unconscious, her husband was faced with making enormous, heart-wrenching decisions about her medical care, without any idea of what she wanted because they'd never talked about quality of life issues.  After she passed, her spouse & children had to arrange the many details of her funeral - What type of casket would she want?  Which favorite outfit should she have for the viewing?  Is the church available, the minister?  Should there be a gathering afterwards?  Where?  How to let her friends know she's passed?   - at the freshness of their loss.  After all that, they had to head back to work, where coworkers who'd offered condolences now expected they'd gone through a sufficient grief process.

If only.  If only their parent's had discussed end-of-life issues, if only they'd noted ahead of time what they wanted at a memorial service, if only they'd let others know which friends should be contacted in the event of their passing.  

That might sound sort of...  ghoulish.  Personally, I've never found it in the least disconcerting to discuss such issues.  Maybe that's because an early loss taught me how swiftly death can come, at any age.  Maybe it's because I'm quite practical when it comes to such matters.  Maybe it's because I will always remember John having to deal with intrusive details rather than working through his grief at his own Mom's sudden passing.  Maybe it's because I know first-hand the importance of discussing medical care issues well ahead of time - it turns out that John &  I have radically different ideas on taking extraordinary measures, differences that are so extreme I gave someone else my medical power of attorney.  

There is no 2nd guessing when we are going to pass.  Dad died just around my age.  I know, first hand, the heartache he felt leaving my Mom without the support measures he could have put in place ahead of time.  I remember, as he was getting ready to leave our house for the nursing home where - in less than a month - he ended his days, his stricken face.  Mom put her arms around him & tried to console him with, "Pete, I'll be okay. I have two fine sons to take care of me."  Will never forget him lowering his head, shaking it.  Broke my heart then, breaks it again as I remember it.  He grieved for all he could have set up to protect her in his absence, yet had never thought of because there'd be time enough.

One of the things I want to accomplish through my older2elder efforts is helping people of all ages have those conversations.  It's never too early or too late to start.  Mom was quite an age - 87 - when we had ours.  Up until that trip homeward, I could have made educated guesses about what she wanted, but how much better was it to actually KNOW, to be able to just implement rather than plan her memorial celebration. 

Using Erin & Doug Kramp's incredible book, Living With The End In Mind, will talk a look at the different things we can do to make our here & now life fuller, our final days more bearable, and our passing even uplifting for those we leave behind. 

How can each of us live with the end in mind?  We can do what we can to be prepared.  It might be among our greatest legacies. 

THE END DETERMINES THE MEANS

A few months ago, I read - sorry, can't remember where - that "the end justifies the means" is incorrectly phrased.  The correct wording, per the source, should be "the end determines the means," casting a way different meaning over the adage.

Recently, have been thinking about all the ways that OUR end should determine the means by which we live it.  My life has been more haphazard, free-style experiencing, rather than keeping my eye on the end & living from that awareness.  Being physically active hasn't been part of my life, nor has being financially wise.  Being aware of my end has, until fairly recently, been woefully weak-willed, something to put waaaay to the back of my mind.

Fred & Greta help shake things up a bit.  What joy, watching them arrive at church on their bikes. In their early 80s & still cycling!  According to their family, the two of them made the conscious decision back in their 40s to pro-actively develop healthy living habits.  Made me think of an elder who, in her later middle age, committed to a yoga practice so she could get down on the floor & play with her grandkids when she hit her older years. In her 80s, she does!  Each of these three elders exemplify "living with the end in mind," an end that determines the means by which they live.

Perhaps no one has expressed the importance of the end determining the means than Erin
Tierney Kramp.  As described on OPRAH, "Erin and her husband Doug were happily married, raising their daughter, Peyton, when out of the blue, Erin was diagnosed with breast cancer. Afraid that Peyton would have to grow up without her, she began working on a legacy of love, recording hours and hours of motherly advice for her only daughter. The videotapes covered everything from how to choose makeup ("Try to find makeup that looks natural, like you're not wearing any") to how to choose a husband ("Pick a very nice guy who has a backbone"). In the midst of grueling treatments, Erin also found the strength to write letters and prepare gifts for Peyton to open every Christmas and birthday after she was gone. ~  Erin also left a special wish for Doug: She hoped he would marry again.  In 2005,  Doug and 13-year-old Peyton visited Oprah's stage and brought a very special person with them—Peyton's stepmother Cheryl, who was expecting her second baby with Doug.

Three older friends & one remarkable young woman I never met - each touched my life, each helped wake me up to the importance of living with the end in mind, of always remembering that the end determines the means - so I better live as if I mean it. 

I like to think it's what Machiavelli would have wanted.


   

INSPIRATION from a COMPOST PILE

Discovered an enjoyable, perspective-changing read today ~ ~ Edward Sylvia's Sermon from the Compost Pile ~ seven steps toward creating an inner garden. 

Had never thought of my mind as a compost pile, all the scraps, the bits & pieces of life not simply decaying, but transforming into rich fertilizer. 

Not all scraps or bits & pieces.  Most people don't bother with composting.    The eensiest weensiest bit of our planet's organic material ends up on a compost pile. Too much time, too much bother, too little space for most people.  Way easier to spin organic material down the garbage disposal. 

What a woeful analogy for the human experience - how many of us take the time to tend the bits & pieces of past experience, putting them in a place where they can transform into rich fertilizer for life rather than just decaying garbage?  

Nature is the master composter.   Plants, like humans, have their life cycles, with essential uses served at every step along the way.  It might not look that way, but they are as useful at the apparent end of their cycle as they are at the start.  When they follow the cycle originally intended, they compost into a rich soil.

Interesting to think of my thoughts, lessons learned, events experienced as composting in mind, ideally serving as rich nutrients for my here & now.  

Am blessed to have remarkable gardeners as friends.  I think of the wonderful compost bins they constructed, material carefully added & moved forward at various stages.  Something that surprised me was learning the importance of turning the collected material so it composts as effectively as possible. 

It's been several hours since my first gander at Edward Sylvia's book, and I find my thoughts keep going back to it.  There's nothing new in seeing ourselves as the caretakers, the "gardeners," of our personal mental & spiritual processes.  What won't let go of my imagination is the image of tending it, giving it the space & time & care to become rich nutrients for future growth.  Not sure if that was the author's intent, but it's stuck. 

In spite of being fairly flinty with available funds, can tell that I'll be heading back to the book center for Sermon from the Compost Pile.  What comes next?  Can tell this is going to be a longtime ponder, especially its implications for my older friends.  

Expect to hear more!

KEEPING CURRENT

Thursday's weekly current events discussion at a local "senior lifestyle" residence zings the minds of the participating olders every bit as soaking in Barbara Trent's jazz vocalizing wows on Wednesday nights.

As expected, today's was especially lively.  It is a small but interested & interesting group.  My only regret is that it doesn't include a broader diversity of political view points.  The discussions are informative, but difference of opinion provides a greater depth, a better understanding of another point of view, a better appreciation of what you really believe & why.  The group illustrates a major problem with our nation's current electorate.  When I grew up, there were lively debates between people holding different points of view, holding different political beliefs.  That is incredibly rare these days - each choir preaches to & within itself.  That is not healthy for American politics.

On the other hand, our weekly discussions are very healthy for my grannie client - they remind her of listening to her parents' political discussions! 

What a blessing, what a mental exercise without peer, for my g.c. and her fellow residents.  They are very kind to let me, a mere kid of 61, sit in.  .

KIM VARGAS, LCSW totally ROCKS!

A zillion thanks to Elizabeth Venart (director & founder of The Resiliency Center in Ambler - and my laughter yoga leader!!) for recommending KIM VARGAS, when I came looking for someone with whom an older friend could talk. What I was looking for was someone who would focus on the promises of growing older, the treasures to be found in saging, the joys waiting to be discovered. Kim is a wonderful match for a delightful older woman who just needs someone to talk to, rather than to work out "issues."

Kim is perfect, at least for this particular senior. Her bio describes Kim's open, engaged style helps promote a warm and nonjudgmental environment" ~ so true. As I write this, am smiling, seeing in my mind's eye the happy greeting she always gives on our arrival, her lit-up face, the gentle sense of friendship that fills the room as I high tail it out for the duration of their talk session. She is a wonder! No matter how my grannie client might feel at the start of a visit with Kim, she always walks out with a lighter step, all smiles and... well - seeming more resilient.

Frankly, it continually shocks me how most people seem unaware of the MEGA value to seniors - especially those who are seriously older - of having someone "safe" to talk with, someone with whom they can share the things once confided to long-gone good friends & beloved family.

Of course, it's a huge advantage that Kim has an info sheet on one of her primary areas of expertise - helping new moms address the challenges & joys of parenthood. That one info sheet helped my grannie client lower her guard & warm to Kim!  Kim seems to bring to their talks the same openness she brings to her new moms, available to discuss whatever comes up.

Writing about Kim - okay, praising her to the skies - is spurring me to consider the WHY behind my longtime advocacy for seniors to have a wise confidant. Seems like 99.99% of us youngers are more or less oblivious to the immense inner challenges faced by olders, especially if they've lost a partner or never married. Throughout their lives, there's been more experienced others to help them adjust & learn to ace a new stage - parents, teachers, employers all helped introduce them to & master whatever new environment they faced. In old age, they often feel rudderless. Having the willing ear of a trained counselor provides someone who can help them navigate the new waters on which they find themselves. This can be true for those living in their own longtime homes, in longtime communities, with friends & family close by, but even more so for the many moved into "senior lifestyle" communities.

Anxiety, depression, loss of a sense of self, family relationships, missing a spouse, transitioning to new & often scary states – Kim deftly navigates each of these. Best of all, she is someone with whom my grannie client feels at ease, her counseling area a space where my older friend feels welcome & safe.

Even if Kim charged twice, three times, the modest rate she bills for the bi-weekly hour, the return on investment would be beyond worth it, providing priceless benefits for both my grannie client & her family.

Wishing all my senior friends had a Kim in their life. She rocks!!


from Kim's professional bio -  Kim Vargas is a Clinical Social Worker licensed in the State of Pennsylvania. She earned a Bachelor’s Degree in International Studies from Brown University and graduated from Catholic University with a Masters in Social Work. She has been a psychotherapist for over 12 years working with clients to address a variety of issues, including depression, anxiety, low self-esteem, parenting and relationships. She is trained in both Cognitive-Behavioral and Psychodynamic Therapies, and utilizes techniques from both to promote growth, empowerment, and a greater level of happiness in her clients.  (small wonder i think the world of kim - we share the same basic goals to engage-energize-empower!  ~ deev ~)     

MOURNING BECOMES ELECTRIC

One of the greatest challenges many of my older friends face is what feels like a generational shrinking away from being sad, or from any "negative" feelings.  In talking to them, the sense of keeping your feelings to yourself - better yet, not to feel them in the first place - seems fairly universal, shared by people from a full spectrum of social, economic & spiritual backgrounds.

 
It's a challenge, because feelings that are buried away unfortunately don't go away.  But to acknowledge, accept them - that's unimaginable to a vast number of olders.  It's a delicate situation for children & other loved ones to consider.  How to help them realize that mourning is not a weakness, but a healing response to loss? 

 
In my birth faith, the process was further complicated for people of my Mom's age by a teaching about not revealing "secrets of the home."  More heartbreak was perpetuated by spouses & children staying silent about abuses that did unimaginable damage, unspeakable because God meant for them to remain family secrets.  In my situation, that was an actual church teaching, but many other families embracing many other faiths had the same belief.  I know how hard it was for Mom to let go, to feel it was okay to open up about the tragedies & heartbreak in her life.  Mom really double-whammied herself, not talking to friends or even ministers about life challenges, believing their resolution was strictly between herself & God.  That still strikes me as chilling.  And wondering how many of her contemporaries - of all faiths - feel the same.

 
It was a shock to Mom when she discovered - with the help of a remarkably gifted psychologist - that dealing with hurtful moments from the past helped her shift past them, beyond their reach.  She was astonished to realize how often sad past events had served as a foundation for something wonderful.  As she wrote in The Velveteen Grammie - "One key lesson learned over the past few years is that even unhappy events can bring unexpected opportunities. Going back to Margery Williams' book (The Velveteen Rabbit), if the Boy had not gotten sick, if the loved but germ-infested Rabbit was not doomed to be burned, if he had not been able to wriggle a bit to get out the sack, if a real tear had not trickled down his shabby velvet nose, the Rabbit would not have come at that time into the fullness of being REAL. You could say my eyes come close to dropping off (cataract surgery is scheduled this fall) and my physical appearance is certainly getting shabbier."   

 
That understanding took YEARS to achieve & almost Herculean efforts on Mom's part.  It started with her realizing the mourning was a not a denial of God's Providence, but a way to move beyond hidden pain, learning from it instead of denying, shifting from the rigidity of painful past experience to a new flexibility with each fresh present moment.  What was my part in it?  Teeny, but important, letting her know it was okay to be vulnerable, that she was right that God wants to work with us to lessen pain & use it for good, but that it's done through fellow humans, not directly by the Divine Almighty. 

 
It was no mere happenstance that, just around the time her eyes were pened to the possibility that there might be gifts to be unlocked in past pain, she discovered Christ Has No Body, by Teresa of Avila, which includes wondrous imagery:
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours.

 
It was as if her inner eyes flew wide open - it wasn't just that SHE was Christ's hands & feet & eyes, but that others were, too.  For her.  Radical thought, radical acceptance. 

 
The whole concept of how to help olders connect to hidden hurt  & pain is one where I can share my personal experience, but can't give much advice, other than to be aware of the problem many of the Greatest Generation share in dismissing their very real, often deeply buried griefs & heartbreaks. 

One thing I suggest to friends & to families of clients is that they find someone an older loved one can talk to.  Mom's serious challenges called for the expertise of a psychologist, but what's often needed is just another person to talk to, knowing it's confidential.  I personally steer clear of anyone trained in geriatric counseling.  One grannie client has developed an excellent connection with a licensed social worker, a young woman whose primary focus is helping women transition into motherhood!  She focuses on the ALIVE aspects of my friend, not on her age. 

 
Ultimately, on her own, Mom came to realize, to accept that grief was not an offense to God, that sad feelings were normal, that difficult & even deeply hurtful moments might hurt but were not inherently negative.  An analogy that came to me helped Mom get to the place where she finally - on her own, not to please me - called for a counseling appointment.  It was quite simple - to turn over an engine, a car battery needs both negative & positive energies.  We can only strike a healthy balance in our lives by letting it be sparked both the upbeat & heartbreak.  Approached with a wholesome, healing attitude, mourning can indeed become electric, illuminating & empowering life. 

 

 

.    .  . 

CARNIVORE ~and~ HERBIVORE DELIGHT!

The clouds were stunning this past Friday morning - not sweet little puffs against a clear blue sky, but dramatic formations lit up by an early autumn sun.  Praise be that I was taking out a grannie client who loves to go cloud chasing!

It was a tough decision, figuring out where to go.  Normally, such a magrnificent skyscape would cry out for a ramble into Philadelphia, along what I consider the BEST drive into any American city.  But I had a massive amount of baking to get done for a Saturday farm market, so couldn't spare the extra time.  Compromised by going half-way, heading along back roads to Chestnut Hill, an utterly charming "village" that's Philadelphia's northern reaches.

The plan was to have lunch at a restaurant that featured outdoor seating, where we have sat before, watching the clouds & crowds roll by.  The idea was nixed by my grannie client as too cool. Alas, while we enjoy the outdoor seating area of that particular restaurant, its interior is a bit dark for my tastes.  We headed off down "The Hill" to a restaurant that is a "Lockhart Ladies" (aka Mom et moi) favorite.  Rats!  They were inexplicably closed.  What to do?  The only other option was a restaurant that was okay, but no great shakes for food, setting or service.  Looking in the window, what stood out to me was the flat screen TV.  An ominous sign, in my experience.  But it was handy, so in we went.

What a delightful surprise!  Chestnut 7 could, I guess, be described as a sports bar, but in preppy style.  We were seated toward the back - hanging on the wall across from us were oars from a scull, with photos of trophies for various crew events.   Tasteful, attractive.  Yes, there was a television on, but it wasn't intrusive - we could enjoy a lively conversation without being distracted.

Nothing surprised me more than the small, yet select menu.  It offers deviled eggs as an appetizer - how many places do you know that offer deviled eggs?!  For her lunch entree, my g.c. was torn between two burgers - The Boomer's mushroom medley & The Wedge's thick-slice bacon - a dilemma solved by combining both the mushrooms &  bacon on The BYO.  As for me, I was over-the-moon to discover the menu features at least two fully vegan selections - a true rarity!  Megan, our wonderful server, explained they also feature gluten-free selections, including g-f pizza & beers.

My sidekick tucked into the deviled eggs, finishing up with a big grin.  Her vodka martini got a big thumbs up, especially as it was served in classic stemware.  She ate almost less than half her generously-sized burger (very unusual) PLUS a number of the delicious hand-cut french fries.  I blissed out with a large scoop of homemade hummus accompanied by triangles of toasted pita, tomatoes, kalamata olives & slices of cucumber. My g.f. followed the dictates of her particular "clean plate" club (as in "Clean off my plate - I'm ready for dessert!"), ordering a yummy vanilla w/chocolate sauce sundae, whipped cream on the side, with coffee for both of us.

We loved every enjoyable, tasty moment!  And we found out why the restaurant is vegan &  g-f friendly - the owners have family members with gluten-free issues, so it made them aware of related food issues LONG before they were a blip on most restaurant owner's radar.  They certainly exceeded the expectations of this vegan! 

Since we often have a limited amount of time to get in a ramble & a bit of lunch, it's great knowing that Chestnut 7 is at the end of a 30-minute meander, welcoming carnivores & herbivores alike!   

LET THE GOOD TIMES ROLL!

Every time we hear the great Barbara Trent's wondrous jazzy stylings is sublime, but this past Wednesday night was beyond the beyond!

Wednesday's at Centre Bridge Inn - about 10 minutes north of New Hope, across the Delaware from Stockton, NJ - always tend to be small & cozy, compared to the crowd Barbara draws on Friday nights. As she says, it feels like a family gathering. This past Wednesday had unusually few people at the warm, welcoming bar and the three of us - a grannie client, John & I - were the only diners sitting near the piano. It might have been a low-key crowd, but it was anything but a low-key evening!

Barbara arrived right after we did, so we walked in together. John helped her get settled in, pulling the baby grand into a better position.

Smiling, thinking about Barbara's outfits. The woman must have a gigantic walk-in closet, she has so many different outfits & hats. We can't remember ever seeing her repeat one, which is no small feat since we are there practically every Wednesday. Barbara exudes joy, love of living, love of what she does, love of the people who adore her as much as her singing. She is an experience.

It took the three of us a while to get settled in. The table where we normally sit had a bit a draft around my g.c.'s legs, so we ended up at the table right in front of the baby grand. NOT a good place for sitting, as there is a very cold draft aimed right at the shoulders of the person sitting to the left, but my g.c., sitting catty-corner to me, was comfy & that was all that mattered to me.

Dinner at Centre Bridge Inn is always yum, even for a veganish diner such as moi. Oh, to have the Centre Bridge Mushrooms, simmered & served in a decadent cream sauce! But the Solebury Salad was delicious. Vodka martini for my g.c., gin martini for John, large water with four lemon slices for moi. (No sad songs for me - lemon water suits me just as well as my previous Manhattan.)

As the night passed & people left but no new ones arrived, the crowd finally consisted of just the three of us & one fellow at the far end of the bar. That was when things got special. Barbara asked us to pick selections - she doesn't read music, just plays from her astonishing memory - for her. In succession, she played my requests of Deep River, Impossible Dream, How Great Thou Art, and a medley of patriotic songs for my g.c. John & I took a cozy turn in the tiny dance space, swaying to Cole Porter. It was magical.

When I requested All of Me, my g.c. - surprised at my request - asked if I knew the words. Barbara had trouble singing through her own laughter, since the words (which I know by heart) are perfectly suited to over-sized gestures, which I gladly supplied. It was truly a rollicking, grand night for singing!

Is there anything more heart-warming than being with people you love & enjoy being with? That was the four of us. Barbara's always had a soft spot for my g.c. - the two formed a mutual admiration society from our first visit. Through the year, the two of us have gotten to know & appreciate each other, and she is a total devotee of John & his gallant, quietly charming ways.

It was hard to imagine how the evening could get better. As we were preparing to go, my g.c. excused herself to the ladies' room. In her absence, Barbara started into a medley of songs about autumn, which ended up in her traditional grouping of songs of farewell. John swept me into his arms & we slow danced - very slow. When my g.c. came back, she entered the room all aglow, dancing over to Barbara. The three of us stood around the baby grand, dancing & beaming at our wonderful friend, who beamed right back at us as she sang, "I'll be seeing you..."

When I first started working with my music-loving grannie client, she often wondered what good she was doing on this earth, what possible use God could have for a 92-year old widow. When we experience a night like Wednesday, when I think about the people who saw her enjoying every moment of her life, experienced her joy in BEING, it's pretty darn clear to see at least a little part of that calling. She touches lives by simply the way in which she lives life to her fullest.

VIRTUALLY OBSOLETE

Strange, but true...

• Only 5% of folks over 65 are in special-care institutions.
• 80% of people between 65 & 80 have no serious limitations in managing daily life.
• While more older people have chronic illnesses than younger ones, fewer have acute illnesses.
• Olders have fewer accidents at home AND on the highways.

That just seems wrong. The majority of younger Americans think of older friends & relations as being in sorry decline.  The reality is our nation's older population is significantly more fit & capable than any previous generation.

What is wrong is how so many otherwise fit & fab olders seem to be withering on the vine, rather than developing into a robust late harvest.

U.S.A. & the Elderly
Here in the U.S.A., the days of respecting, honoring older people are long gone. Then again, the ancient practice of venerating the aged for their advanced years was never as strong in the U.S.A. as it is in other parts of the world. Maybe it's due to our nation's still-entrenched Protestant work ethic, which ties so much importance & value to a person's ability to work, something that is typically considered to diminish in old age. Maybe it harks back to the reality that our nation's timeline closely parallels the Industrial Revolution's - we have always been more a nation of manufacturers than of craftsman.

It was not always so. In agrarian societies, older people were held in high regard – the wise old heads, the teachers, the masters of techniques & practices. Unlike their youngers, they had the length of days to see what worked, what didn’t, life lessons that were invaluable to younger family members. In today’s non-industrial societies, many elderly continue to serve as custodians of culture, handing down generations of history & traditions.

For millennia, the elders of a clan or family were looked to for wisdom, perspective, understanding. They were the keepers of the stories, the guardians of culture.

For millennia.


Under the Radar
How different things are today. I've had way too much contact with way too many older friends who feel that the greatest use they can be to their family is to stay as little a burden as possible. This shockingly prevalent attitude makes a constant challenge of my quest to engage, energize & empower.  Sad, but true ~ studies show that if an older person - especially one edging into their 80s & 90s – is asked if he or she is satisfied with their present life, the most typical response is yes, all is well. It feels like the majority of olders want to fly under the radar as much as possible.  It might not be how they act, but all too often it is how they feel. 

That was my own Mom's response, was Mom Murphy's response – their #1 goal was to kick up as little fuss & bother as possible. And both of them had children who clearly, openly respected & honored them, as parents, as people more worldly-wise than us, as awesome women!

Today's olders are significantly more physically fit  than any previous generation. Yet, as a society, we persist in pegging people as young as 55 as "aged." Seriously?!

Is it any wonder that today's older men & women face the prospect of being physically fit, but mentally under-stimulated & socially lethargic, too many times downright depressed?


Virtually Obsolete
It's easy to point the finger of blame at the Information Age's natural obsession with the newest, most cutting-edge technological edge, which can make newly obsolete yesterday’s gee whiz advancement. To see how the Industrial Age made practically extinct the person who takes decades mastering a craft. To ponder the impact of the printing press on relegating  the role of elder as citadel of history, traditions & culture to downright antediluvian.

Whatever the cause or causes, the norm here in today's U.S.A. is for older people to feel virtually obsolete.  They are more physically fit & capable than any previous generation, yet too often lack even the mundane outlets of cooking, cleaning, and getting around under their own steam, basic outlets that would typically help keep them lively, literally on their toes. And feeling like they have intrinsic worth.

 

Arrrgggghhhhhhh!!!

Bring It On!
Is it lunacy to think that little ol’ me can make a difference to this unacceptable (to me!) imbalance?  Bordering on delusional arrogance to think I can stem the tide set to engulf my own Boomer generation?  Maybe – but bring it on!!