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!
Monday, September 30, 2013
Friday, September 27, 2013
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.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
VIRTUALLY OBSOLETE
Strange, but true...
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.
- 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!Wednesday, September 25, 2013
MISSION not yet ACCOMPLISHED
Zapped awake last night, jarred out of sleep by two words - mission statement.
Lay there, wide awake, for over an hour, thinking about - of all things - our local high school's senior class. Right about now, each senior is working on composing a personal mission statement.
I've long envied them that assignment, one that was decades away back in 1970. How many of us graduated without once pausing to question, to ponder what truly mattered to us, where we were headed, and why? Today's students are blessed - studies indicate that those who ask & answer those questions tend to get the most out of life.
As the clock ticked toward 4 a.m., struck me what an invaluable activity composing personal mission statements would be for MY seniors, the sun shining behind them on life's journey. Their present journey is just as daunting & challenging & promising as the one they faced as youngsters.
Sleep was impossible as I imagined the impact of my older friends making the time to question, ponder who they truly are in this present moment, what they experience as their here & now authentic selves, examining what they embrace as current life values, what do they love, and what do they want to express? With each passing moment, each tick tock, realized how priceless writing a personal mission statement could prove in feeling more stable in what can feel like shifting ground, more focused in what can feel a disoriented, disrupting existence.
Too many older people - especially those edging into their 80s, 90s - seem to feel it's time to stamp Mission Accomplished on their life. Not so! Their missions are FAR from accomplished. Every person is meant to live a life that has active value to its final day. But that's not going to be possible for folks ready to throw in the towel, to call it quits. Instead, it's time for them to straighten up & fly right, to find their inner truth & live as full throttle as possible from it!
Earlier, I alluded to the sun setting behind my older friends. By pondering & answering the questions that go into writing a personal mission statement, by composing their own, by expressing it through their daily actions, they can become stronger, more empowered. Each can make sure the sun is warm on their back as it lights up the sky before them in a great, glorious, long-lingering sunset.
Lay there, wide awake, for over an hour, thinking about - of all things - our local high school's senior class. Right about now, each senior is working on composing a personal mission statement.
I've long envied them that assignment, one that was decades away back in 1970. How many of us graduated without once pausing to question, to ponder what truly mattered to us, where we were headed, and why? Today's students are blessed - studies indicate that those who ask & answer those questions tend to get the most out of life.
As the clock ticked toward 4 a.m., struck me what an invaluable activity composing personal mission statements would be for MY seniors, the sun shining behind them on life's journey. Their present journey is just as daunting & challenging & promising as the one they faced as youngsters.
Sleep was impossible as I imagined the impact of my older friends making the time to question, ponder who they truly are in this present moment, what they experience as their here & now authentic selves, examining what they embrace as current life values, what do they love, and what do they want to express? With each passing moment, each tick tock, realized how priceless writing a personal mission statement could prove in feeling more stable in what can feel like shifting ground, more focused in what can feel a disoriented, disrupting existence.
Too many older people - especially those edging into their 80s, 90s - seem to feel it's time to stamp Mission Accomplished on their life. Not so! Their missions are FAR from accomplished. Every person is meant to live a life that has active value to its final day. But that's not going to be possible for folks ready to throw in the towel, to call it quits. Instead, it's time for them to straighten up & fly right, to find their inner truth & live as full throttle as possible from it!
Earlier, I alluded to the sun setting behind my older friends. By pondering & answering the questions that go into writing a personal mission statement, by composing their own, by expressing it through their daily actions, they can become stronger, more empowered. Each can make sure the sun is warm on their back as it lights up the sky before them in a great, glorious, long-lingering sunset.
(What an exciting, uplifting, life-changing enhancing enriching
project to pull from vision into reality!)
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
SeniorTalkLine
Montgomery County (PA) has a teen support talk line, offering peer-to-peer support for kids needing to unload to another kid. Great idea! And something that is just as needed for the olders among us.
Imagine a SeniorTalkLine, offering peer-to-peer support to people who can feel just as alone, adrift & alienated as any teenager?! With public funds for program development at low ebb & private endeavors focused on money-producing rather than difference-making projects, a relatively low-cost talk line could do a lot of good with a modest budget.
Stirring up support - - another item for my older2elder "to-do" lis!!
Imagine a SeniorTalkLine, offering peer-to-peer support to people who can feel just as alone, adrift & alienated as any teenager?! With public funds for program development at low ebb & private endeavors focused on money-producing rather than difference-making projects, a relatively low-cost talk line could do a lot of good with a modest budget.
Stirring up support - - another item for my older2elder "to-do" lis!!
Thursday, September 19, 2013
SOCIALIZED MEDICINE
It baffles me how people seem clueless about the importance - and generally shocking absence - of play to older people. Not carefully choreographed "activity" sessions at a "senior lifestyle" residence or senior care center, which are typically highly structured & invariably directed by others. I'm talkin' unstructured, essentially self-directed FUN times.
Which is not to decry a lot of the activities organized by & offered in senior centers. An older friend of mine, inching up into her 80s, puts me to shame in the energy department. Through our local senior center, she's part of a variety of sports teams, from volleyball to shuffleboard. Although technically "structured" activities, arranged & facilitated by the center's sports director, Laurie's participation is way past self-directed to team-directed. I wish all my grannie & gramps clients had the opportunity to feel like their individual effort matters to the larger whole!
Those activities are light years from a tai chi class... that meets once a week for one hour. Ditto a wii group... that meets weekly for a scant hour. Or a walking group... that walks the grounds for 60 minutes every Wednesday morning. Those are what some places consider provide their older residences with stimulating exercise activities!
Let me back up for a moment. It's not that our older friends & loved ones need playful activities - we all do, from birth to death. But my guess is that 99.99% of able-bodied youngers are unaware of ALL the times we do something fun & self-directed. How easy it is to take for granted being able to run out for chicken cheesesteak parm & a large caesar salad from Longhitano's rather than make dinner, then bop out again at 9:00 p.m. for the lime you forgot to get for a late night gin & tonic with your sweetie, snugged on the couch watching a favorite Netflix movie. Self-directed fun, yet almost ho hum in it's every dayness to the able bodies. Would be nirvana for many older people, especially those edging into their 80s & 90s.
One of my grannie clients loves going for rambles, ending up a nice restaurant or watering hole. Another disliked long drives, but longed to visit a dog park. One who's less mobile organizes a film festival for her fellow residents, held in the community room, with light (sometimes not-so-light!) refreshments before & after to encourage socializing.
Three ways - of countless possibilities - olders can enjoy fun that THEY'VE structured & directed. Three different ways, with one constant response ~ invariably a lighter step, a readier smile, even a better night's sleep.
Which is not to decry a lot of the activities organized by & offered in senior centers. An older friend of mine, inching up into her 80s, puts me to shame in the energy department. Through our local senior center, she's part of a variety of sports teams, from volleyball to shuffleboard. Although technically "structured" activities, arranged & facilitated by the center's sports director, Laurie's participation is way past self-directed to team-directed. I wish all my grannie & gramps clients had the opportunity to feel like their individual effort matters to the larger whole!
Those activities are light years from a tai chi class... that meets once a week for one hour. Ditto a wii group... that meets weekly for a scant hour. Or a walking group... that walks the grounds for 60 minutes every Wednesday morning. Those are what some places consider provide their older residences with stimulating exercise activities!
Let me back up for a moment. It's not that our older friends & loved ones need playful activities - we all do, from birth to death. But my guess is that 99.99% of able-bodied youngers are unaware of ALL the times we do something fun & self-directed. How easy it is to take for granted being able to run out for chicken cheesesteak parm & a large caesar salad from Longhitano's rather than make dinner, then bop out again at 9:00 p.m. for the lime you forgot to get for a late night gin & tonic with your sweetie, snugged on the couch watching a favorite Netflix movie. Self-directed fun, yet almost ho hum in it's every dayness to the able bodies. Would be nirvana for many older people, especially those edging into their 80s & 90s.
One of my grannie clients loves going for rambles, ending up a nice restaurant or watering hole. Another disliked long drives, but longed to visit a dog park. One who's less mobile organizes a film festival for her fellow residents, held in the community room, with light (sometimes not-so-light!) refreshments before & after to encourage socializing.
Three ways - of countless possibilities - olders can enjoy fun that THEY'VE structured & directed. Three different ways, with one constant response ~ invariably a lighter step, a readier smile, even a better night's sleep.
Bet that's a form of "socialized" health care everyone can get behind!!
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
THE POWER of PLAY
Fascinating discussion yesterday on Marty Moss-Coane's talk show - Radio Times - on the power of unstructured, child-directed play on child development & strong mental health.
Found myself musing on how the same can be said just as passionately about olders edging past 80 & beyond!
Found myself musing on how the same can be said just as passionately about olders edging past 80 & beyond!
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
CONTINUITY
In October 2000, just a year before she passed,
Mom attended a women's weekend retreat, tucked away in the Catskill mountains. Near the end, she mentioned how easy life had been. A young woman who'd been
in sharing groups with Mom rblurted out, "Mrs. Lockhart, your life has been
anything but easy!"
Mom had confused easy with fortunate. Now that I have been working with a variety of older friends, have gotten to know their own lives, how each comes at handling problems & challenging situations, it's gotten clearer & clearer to me how tragedies & misfortunes that kept Mom's life from being easy paved the way for it to be fortunate.
Background
Due to my grandfather's single-hearted devotion to securing a "New Church" education for his children, Mom's life was erratically divided between Baltimore & suburban Philadelphia. Because of the sometimes here, sometimes there aspect of her life, I think Mom never fully developed a sense of HER place.
To afford this split lifestyle, my grandfather - Bejamin Reynolds - drove himself to his limits, in spite of being diagnosed with a serious heart ailment. He died when my Mom was just 19. Later that year, the stock market crashed. Instead of heading to college to teaching college, Mom went to work, living with her mother & maternal Methodist grandfather. Her mother would be Mom's primary - her sole - responsibility until Gran's death in the mid-1950s.
Gran was no walk in the park. She expected her daughter to be at her beck & call and apparently had not even a smidgen of maternal instincts. Her endlessly needy expectations nurtured Mom's natural maternalism - Gran saw herself as a helpless dependent - while leaving Mom without a role model of healthy mothering. By the time I was born, Gran was suffering from dementia. With five children that needed her time & attention and no siblings nearby to help out, Mom made the heart-wrenching decision to place Gran in an institution. When Gran's brother made a rare visit & raked his niece over the coals for treating her mother so "heartlessly," it was too much for Mom, who suffered a nervous breakdown; as part of her institutionalized care, she suffered through electric shock treatments.
Less than four years later, she suffered the unimaginable tragedy of losing her 11-year old son to a shooting incident. Four months later, the lumberyard where Dad was a vice president burned to the ground & the owner decided to sell rather than rebuild, leaving Dad without a job.
Fourteen years later, Dad died in his early sixties. Within a few years, unauthorized investments by her financial "advisor" wiped out the money Dad had left. Oh, and Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer.
Continuity
Mom's was NOT an easy life. But it did instill in her a sense of continuity, that life may seem bleak & dark, yet the sun will still rise, the sky will again be blue (although "never again the same shade"). Life does go on.
From a young age, Mom's life was marked with tragedy & misfortune, yet every time she rose again, phoenix-like, from the ashes. As she grew older & older, that sense of continuity, of putting one foot in front of the other no matter how hobbled she felt, stood her in good stead. No stranger to loss; Mom knew it was how you respond to it that matters most. She honed the ability to sense more than the present moment stress, drawing lessons from the past & expectations for the future, to give a whole sense of unity, bringing peace of mind.
Because life helped Mom cultivate a sense of continuity, it was natural for her to later use her past to help cultivate a sense of wisdom. How she would have pooh-poohed any talk of "wisdom," although she might have nodded in agreement with "harnessing past experiences to guide us in the present."
As her daughter, I am always & forever grateful for Mom's remarkably fortunate life. In spite of - because of? - past horror & heartbreak, Mom tended to live in the present moment, appreciative of the people around her, the religion she loved, the community in which she lived, the family & friends she cherished.
Perhaps Mom was most fortunate in naturally embracing the concept of continuity, never clinging to the dark specter of loss, always - ever hopeful - anticipating the coming dawn.
Mom had confused easy with fortunate. Now that I have been working with a variety of older friends, have gotten to know their own lives, how each comes at handling problems & challenging situations, it's gotten clearer & clearer to me how tragedies & misfortunes that kept Mom's life from being easy paved the way for it to be fortunate.
Background
Due to my grandfather's single-hearted devotion to securing a "New Church" education for his children, Mom's life was erratically divided between Baltimore & suburban Philadelphia. Because of the sometimes here, sometimes there aspect of her life, I think Mom never fully developed a sense of HER place.
To afford this split lifestyle, my grandfather - Bejamin Reynolds - drove himself to his limits, in spite of being diagnosed with a serious heart ailment. He died when my Mom was just 19. Later that year, the stock market crashed. Instead of heading to college to teaching college, Mom went to work, living with her mother & maternal Methodist grandfather. Her mother would be Mom's primary - her sole - responsibility until Gran's death in the mid-1950s.
Gran was no walk in the park. She expected her daughter to be at her beck & call and apparently had not even a smidgen of maternal instincts. Her endlessly needy expectations nurtured Mom's natural maternalism - Gran saw herself as a helpless dependent - while leaving Mom without a role model of healthy mothering. By the time I was born, Gran was suffering from dementia. With five children that needed her time & attention and no siblings nearby to help out, Mom made the heart-wrenching decision to place Gran in an institution. When Gran's brother made a rare visit & raked his niece over the coals for treating her mother so "heartlessly," it was too much for Mom, who suffered a nervous breakdown; as part of her institutionalized care, she suffered through electric shock treatments.
Less than four years later, she suffered the unimaginable tragedy of losing her 11-year old son to a shooting incident. Four months later, the lumberyard where Dad was a vice president burned to the ground & the owner decided to sell rather than rebuild, leaving Dad without a job.
Fourteen years later, Dad died in his early sixties. Within a few years, unauthorized investments by her financial "advisor" wiped out the money Dad had left. Oh, and Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer.
Continuity
Mom's was NOT an easy life. But it did instill in her a sense of continuity, that life may seem bleak & dark, yet the sun will still rise, the sky will again be blue (although "never again the same shade"). Life does go on.
From a young age, Mom's life was marked with tragedy & misfortune, yet every time she rose again, phoenix-like, from the ashes. As she grew older & older, that sense of continuity, of putting one foot in front of the other no matter how hobbled she felt, stood her in good stead. No stranger to loss; Mom knew it was how you respond to it that matters most. She honed the ability to sense more than the present moment stress, drawing lessons from the past & expectations for the future, to give a whole sense of unity, bringing peace of mind.
Because life helped Mom cultivate a sense of continuity, it was natural for her to later use her past to help cultivate a sense of wisdom. How she would have pooh-poohed any talk of "wisdom," although she might have nodded in agreement with "harnessing past experiences to guide us in the present."
As her daughter, I am always & forever grateful for Mom's remarkably fortunate life. In spite of - because of? - past horror & heartbreak, Mom tended to live in the present moment, appreciative of the people around her, the religion she loved, the community in which she lived, the family & friends she cherished.
Perhaps Mom was most fortunate in naturally embracing the concept of continuity, never clinging to the dark specter of loss, always - ever hopeful - anticipating the coming dawn.
Oh, to give that gift of
inner sight to all my older friends!
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
THE QUESTION
Sign from the Great Hereafter? Think so!
Interviewing a potential IT support pro yesterday, mentioned that a key part of my interaction with olders is hands-on internet access support, like I did with my mother. An unexpected smile broke out on the young man's face as he said, "Your Mom answered a question of mine that still makes a difference in my marriage."
When Mom was released from the hospital to come home for hospice care, we were warned by her physician that she would likely be subject to bouts of deep depression. In reality, they only hit once - midway through that last week. All through Thursday morning, she was blue bleak despondent. Nothing lifted her out of darkness - not singing her favorite songs & hymns, not reading from Scripture, not talking about Dad. My last hope was asking if she wanted me to check e-mail to see if there where any questions from the Psych class at the local college. "Yeah, okay," was her flat response.
Nipping next door to the computer studio, I opened her e-mail & sure enough - there were a couple, including THE QUESTION. "What advice would you give someone who felt he'd met the love of his life?"
As soon as she heard it, Mom's eyes lit up, melancholy dropped away, any tinge of sadness banished by her radiant smile. Her response, shared with me for reply & held in my heart to this day: "No matter how funny it might seem to you in the moment, never make your spouse the butt of a joke. And forget the claim that bad fights lead to great make-ups ~ ~ no matter how sorry you are for what was said in the heat of anger, every hurtful, cutting word always leaves a scar."
While I always remembered that THE QUESTION came from a South American (we'd noticed that questions from USA students focused on death & dying; ones from other nationalities focused on life & living), had NO recollection it was Brazilian Calebe who asked it.
Is there power in olders sharing life wisdom, however minor it might seem? Is there value in them posting thoughts, experiences, memories on the internet? If you doubt, just remember THE QUESTION and the answer that still touches at least one young man's life & love.
Interviewing a potential IT support pro yesterday, mentioned that a key part of my interaction with olders is hands-on internet access support, like I did with my mother. An unexpected smile broke out on the young man's face as he said, "Your Mom answered a question of mine that still makes a difference in my marriage."
Did my jaw drop or did it just feel like it did?
Because I immediately knew what he'd asked - it was THE QUESTION.
When Mom was released from the hospital to come home for hospice care, we were warned by her physician that she would likely be subject to bouts of deep depression. In reality, they only hit once - midway through that last week. All through Thursday morning, she was blue bleak despondent. Nothing lifted her out of darkness - not singing her favorite songs & hymns, not reading from Scripture, not talking about Dad. My last hope was asking if she wanted me to check e-mail to see if there where any questions from the Psych class at the local college. "Yeah, okay," was her flat response.
Nipping next door to the computer studio, I opened her e-mail & sure enough - there were a couple, including THE QUESTION. "What advice would you give someone who felt he'd met the love of his life?"
As soon as she heard it, Mom's eyes lit up, melancholy dropped away, any tinge of sadness banished by her radiant smile. Her response, shared with me for reply & held in my heart to this day: "No matter how funny it might seem to you in the moment, never make your spouse the butt of a joke. And forget the claim that bad fights lead to great make-ups ~ ~ no matter how sorry you are for what was said in the heat of anger, every hurtful, cutting word always leaves a scar."
While I always remembered that THE QUESTION came from a South American (we'd noticed that questions from USA students focused on death & dying; ones from other nationalities focused on life & living), had NO recollection it was Brazilian Calebe who asked it.
How could I not hire someone who clearly comes with Mom's stamp of approval?!
Is there power in olders sharing life wisdom, however minor it might seem? Is there value in them posting thoughts, experiences, memories on the internet? If you doubt, just remember THE QUESTION and the answer that still touches at least one young man's life & love.
CONTEXT
Find myself thinking about an older friend who had almost the entire fabric of her life context ripped away over a few months. Longtime community - gone. Sense of close proximity to family - gone. Home - gone. Husband - gone.
Her experience is extreme. Most older people loose a long-established sense of context over many years, so gradually that many don't realize it is gone & are left with a quiet sense of being bereft, but no idea of why.
I can think of nothing braver than an older person consciously intentionally actively building a new sense of context out of their previous life.
Her experience is extreme. Most older people loose a long-established sense of context over many years, so gradually that many don't realize it is gone & are left with a quiet sense of being bereft, but no idea of why.
I can think of nothing braver than an older person consciously intentionally actively building a new sense of context out of their previous life.
Friday, September 6, 2013
MAKING A DIFFERENCE TO THAT ONE
Yesterday was a beaut! The weather
was pleasantly warm, the sky was filled with dramatic clouds, but there wasn't
any sense of humidity. In a summer over-burdened with either HOT weather or
rain, it was the first day I could take a sky-loving grannie client to the
Chestnut Hill Grill for a mid-afternoon nip & nibble.
What fun we had, sitting on the
porch, watching the clouds & the crowds roll by.
Chestnut Hill Grill is smack dab on Germantown Avenue, so we had a great view of passersby. What fun seeing my grannie client's eyes LIGHT UP each time she spotted a mother pushing a carriage, an older sister out with younger siblings, a father toting packages for the nearby post office, two boys close by his side. We must have watched at least thirty children pass by, either directly in front of us or on the other side of the busy street. And every time a parent-child(ren) pairing or a group of tweens strolled past us, I could feel the incredible lightness of being radiating from my dear friend.
Chestnut Hill Grill is smack dab on Germantown Avenue, so we had a great view of passersby. What fun seeing my grannie client's eyes LIGHT UP each time she spotted a mother pushing a carriage, an older sister out with younger siblings, a father toting packages for the nearby post office, two boys close by his side. We must have watched at least thirty children pass by, either directly in front of us or on the other side of the busy street. And every time a parent-child(ren) pairing or a group of tweens strolled past us, I could feel the incredible lightness of being radiating from my dear friend.
We'd gone to the Chestnut Hill Grill
because it is such a wonderful spot to cloud watch. The clouds were a distant
second to the people watching. I hope to get back there at least twice before
autumn's chill sets in.
It never occurred to me to think
about how many younger people, how many children, folks living in a
"senior lifecare" residence see from day to day.
I never thought to fully notice how
many younger people I see on any given day. Just from my front window, I spot
kids walking to the bus stop or - steps lighter, brisker - returning in the
late afternoon. Walking out to pick up the mail, I catch a glimpse of my 20-something
next door neighbor working on his car or a 50ish friend across the street
mowing his lawn, or friends two doors up welcoming a visit from their
grandkids. It never registered that I've known the young man since he was five,
the 50ish fellow since he was in his 20s, had grandma & grandpa's daughters
to my house for crafting back when they were six and nine. Seeing not just
other people, but people with whom I have a continuity of friendship, is an
everyday blessing that deserves celebration & recognition.
If it wasn't for going out
yesterday, enjoying an elegant dish of chocolate mousse as the world rolled by,
when would my grannie client have soaked it all in? In those relatively short
minutes that we were there, indulging in an elegant dish of chocolate mousse
& delighting in joy of life unfolding around us, the importance, the
immediate impact of what I do hit home all over again. What I do isn't going to
make her any less lonely when she wakes up in the middle of the night, in her
small bed, in her small bedroom, in her small apartment. It's not going to fill
the rest of her day or evening with activities. But for those moments, she
seemed whole & happy & connected, and that - to me - is everything.
Life went past us, as we sat on that
porch. A trio of older people - they looked to be in their early 70s - arrived
with luggage, reminding us that the building is also the veddy nice, veddy
discreet Chestnut Hill Hotel. We went off on a fantasy, wondering the reason
for their visit -
a wedding? A class reunion? A
friend's special birthday? More smiles.
On the way back to the car, we
strolled past four young mothers with wee small babies; two were less than six
weeks, one was about two months & the oldest was six months. How my
friend reveled in oohing & ahhing over the sweet things, at the opportunity
to talk MOM with the young women.
On the drive back, I didn't hear a
single caustic peep about "Well, time to return to prison." Dropping her
off, I felt infused with smiles as my dear older friend, filled with the sense
of the day, flung her door open & stepped sprightly out of the car. As she
moved toward the automatically opening door, she sure seemed to me to be
walking on air.
There's an oft-told story by Loren Eisley about a young girl &
starfish:
A young
girl was walking along a beach upon which thousands of starfish had been washed
up during a terrible storm. When she came to each starfish, she would pick it
up, and throw it back into the ocean. People watched her with amusement.
She had
been doing this for some time when a man approached her and said, “Little girl,
why are you doing this? Look at this beach! You can’t save all these starfish.
You can’t begin to make a difference!”
The girl
seemed crushed, suddenly deflated. But after a few moments, she bent down,
picked up another starfish, and hurled it as far as she could into the ocean.
Then she looked up at the man and replied,
“Well, I
made a difference to that one!”
The old
man looked at the girl inquisitively and thought about what she had done and
said. Inspired, he joined the little girl in throwing starfish back into the
sea. Soon others joined, and all the starfish were saved.
I might not be able to change life for all the stranded
older people who live in places with filtered air & artificial light, where
the only young people they generally see are staff or caregivers. I can't
possibly save them all.
But, yesterday, I made a difference to that one.
Thursday, September 5, 2013
SISSIES NEED NOT APPLY
“Old age ain’t fer sissies,” is a saying my Mom embraced in her 80s, a time strewn with challenges those of us south of seventy can barely imagine, a time few olders ever thought of preparing for back in their younger years.
Many of us learned our alphabet & numbers even before our first school day. Teachers introduced us to math & English, science & history, art & music. Coaches worked with us on our swing, our throw, our jump. Human Resources & managers & career mentors helped us navigate the work world, while countless supporters helped us tackle being parents without too many goof ups. Dr. Spock et al helped us take a more informed approach to parenting, while Stephen Coven illustrated the seven habits of highly effective families. Julia Child showed us how to master French cooking, while Bob Vila demonstrated how to home repair & renovation.
Who is out there to teach us how to master the art of aging well? Or to instruct our loved ones & friends in the intricacies of elder support?
Living out our lives in as a vibrant long sunset rather than a dull interminable twilight takes more than a different skill set than what served our earlier years – it requires a revolutionary new mindset.
Some people begin working on developing that new mindset long before they reach their 70s. But they are the blessed few. What about the rest, who enter old age as unprepared as a kid entering high school without reading skills? Where do we look for remedial courses in living well to the very last? And how do we youngers help older loved ones dredge up the determination & courage necessary to master rather than shie away from this new era of life & living?
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
WE ARE OUR STORIES
We are our stories. More than bone or muscle or blood or DNA. They define us, in our mind & in the minds of others. The more we share our stories, the better we understand ourselves & others.
That's one reason, among many, why I believe that writing - via blog or ink & paper journal writing - is invaluable in helping olders capture their past, as much as they might scoff at the idea.
Legacy writing, as it's called, does far more than recapture years. It helps olders connect to their wise self. Can hear my older friends breaking into loud guffaws at the image of themselves as a wise self. Guffaw away - that's what our older family members & friends can provide that is so sorely needed in these short attention span, rapid media days.
The long view of our elders might be often discounted in today's world, but that doesn't make it less important.
It takes an immense amount of grit for most older people to look back at their lives, even more to share it with others. I learned that through my Mom, seen it time & again with my clients. They've had it drummed into them through the media, sometimes through their families, and too often from their inner critic, that they are archaic, out of date & out of place in current society.
Yet, those older voices, that longer view, is as essential today as it has been at any time in our past. More so, as the politically & financially empowered seem to barge ahead in whatever direction is open, without a thought of consequences or long term outcomes.
They - we - need the voice of experience, the voice of people who have been in the hurly burly of life, been there & come out the other side.
No one was more entrenched than Mom in the belief that what she had to share, what she'd experienced, would be discounted by one & all. The very thought of posting her thoughts, her observations & commentaries, stories from her past, struck Mom as the height of narcissism. It took a lot of convincing for her to put herself out, first with this comment, then that opinion, a relevant story from her past, a distant memory of important people in her life. To Mom, these were minor moments, surely of interest only to herself. She was stunned & slowly won over as person after person responded warmly, enthusiastically to her posts.
In time, she realized that her devoted readers related to far more than her tales & commentaries - they were touched & changed by the different perspective she brought to their younger lives. Here was a living soul who'd celebrated the end of World War I, who made it through the Great Depression, who loved & lost & loved again, a woman experiencing birth, a mother devastated by the death of a child, a wife whose husband died in their early sixities, who remade her life.
Mom once mentioned to a young friend that she'd had an easy life. "Oh, Mrs. Lockhart," the younger woman - one of my classmates - replied, "Your life has been anything but easy!" It wasn't easy. Easy wouldn't have served as a lesson to the rest of us. Easy doesn't take determination & courage & a willingness to go on. Mom's life was fortunate, a far cry from easy, the result of her taking what happened - be it loss or gain, good times or bad, youth or old age - and making it work as best it can. And THAT is what hearing the stories of our older friends & relatives, even of utter strangers, can give to the rest of us.
As individuals, as a nation, we need our elders' stories. We need to help them find the willingness, determination & courage to become storytellers, to give the long view of their years, to help us find greater perspective & appreciation of what lies beyond the immediate. We are our stories, and are all the poorer without theirs.
That's one reason, among many, why I believe that writing - via blog or ink & paper journal writing - is invaluable in helping olders capture their past, as much as they might scoff at the idea.
Legacy writing, as it's called, does far more than recapture years. It helps olders connect to their wise self. Can hear my older friends breaking into loud guffaws at the image of themselves as a wise self. Guffaw away - that's what our older family members & friends can provide that is so sorely needed in these short attention span, rapid media days.
The long view of our elders might be often discounted in today's world, but that doesn't make it less important.
It takes an immense amount of grit for most older people to look back at their lives, even more to share it with others. I learned that through my Mom, seen it time & again with my clients. They've had it drummed into them through the media, sometimes through their families, and too often from their inner critic, that they are archaic, out of date & out of place in current society.
Sadly, that seems to be the prevailing message.
Yet, those older voices, that longer view, is as essential today as it has been at any time in our past. More so, as the politically & financially empowered seem to barge ahead in whatever direction is open, without a thought of consequences or long term outcomes.
They - we - need the voice of experience, the voice of people who have been in the hurly burly of life, been there & come out the other side.
No one was more entrenched than Mom in the belief that what she had to share, what she'd experienced, would be discounted by one & all. The very thought of posting her thoughts, her observations & commentaries, stories from her past, struck Mom as the height of narcissism. It took a lot of convincing for her to put herself out, first with this comment, then that opinion, a relevant story from her past, a distant memory of important people in her life. To Mom, these were minor moments, surely of interest only to herself. She was stunned & slowly won over as person after person responded warmly, enthusiastically to her posts.
In time, she realized that her devoted readers related to far more than her tales & commentaries - they were touched & changed by the different perspective she brought to their younger lives. Here was a living soul who'd celebrated the end of World War I, who made it through the Great Depression, who loved & lost & loved again, a woman experiencing birth, a mother devastated by the death of a child, a wife whose husband died in their early sixities, who remade her life.
Mom once mentioned to a young friend that she'd had an easy life. "Oh, Mrs. Lockhart," the younger woman - one of my classmates - replied, "Your life has been anything but easy!" It wasn't easy. Easy wouldn't have served as a lesson to the rest of us. Easy doesn't take determination & courage & a willingness to go on. Mom's life was fortunate, a far cry from easy, the result of her taking what happened - be it loss or gain, good times or bad, youth or old age - and making it work as best it can. And THAT is what hearing the stories of our older friends & relatives, even of utter strangers, can give to the rest of us.
As individuals, as a nation, we need our elders' stories. We need to help them find the willingness, determination & courage to become storytellers, to give the long view of their years, to help us find greater perspective & appreciation of what lies beyond the immediate. We are our stories, and are all the poorer without theirs.
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