Temper!                                                                                September 26, 2014    

     Lost my temper the other night.  Some folks said they did not know I had one, everybody does.  I, for example lose my temper or my head over small things.  When big issues show up, I am able to confront them squarely, head on.  The other night, it was a very small thing that evolved into a multi-sided nuisance.  I stubbed my littlest toe on the way to the bathroom, in the semi-dark, in the middle of the night.  The pain was momentarily bone crushing,  I reacted quickly, thoughtlessly, I hit the offensive wooden stool as hard as I could, I retaliated and broke my hand, dislocated my smallest finger.  It is a good thing that the person who moved the innocent stool into my path, was absent!  I will repent for five weeks while my hand recovers in its plaster cast, covered in fancy blue netting.

     I am grateful…I am learning, have learned, how kind people can be. The spirit in the doctor’s office was unbelievable.  I was afraid I might need surgery, Urgent Care warned me. Dr Patel made it very clear immediately, it was MY decision, there was an alternative.  His technician was kind and funny, Rafi helped neutralize my fears and raise my spirits.  It is hard to believe that I had a good time despite three shots in the hand and a lot of twisting and manipulating of my small finger.

     A friend said that he was glad that I did not fall, also happy that at my age, I could still demonstrate my ability to get angry.  I do not recommend fighting an offending piece of furniture as I did, next time I will use my voice instead of my fist!   Five weeks in a cast should teach me, once more, to repent and learn to use my left hand.

 

My friend came to call…                               September 17, 2014 

   Once a week in 1958 I found my living room filled with a half dozen energetic seven-year old boys. It was Cub Scout Wednesday and I was in charge. When the boots and snowsuits inundated me, I appealed to the other mothers for help. One special woman stepped up and joined the fun. From that day to this, we have been close friends. Our husbands enjoyed each other’s company and our children tolerated one another with respectful good manners. Fifty-six years of a friendship that has withstood the passage of time in good humor, much fun and occasional disagreements to spice things up…”Please do not smoke when you baby-sit with my kids!” she begged adding, “My house stinks when you leave.” “Is your husband always so pick-y about the proper champagne glass?” I asked impatiently. “You cut his hair while we were away, how dare you!”  
     Today we are both widows, she has been alone longer than I. There have been companions for her over the years, my husband and I enjoyed those men too; today as I grow into my widowhood, I thoroughly understand that the need for companionship is real, nagging, often debilitating. Vera and I respect and love each other as good friends do. So this year, like so many others, she visited her son, daughter-in-law and me.  They live in Northern California and I, down South. Coming from New York to California is a daunting prospect and reality, I can attest. Her devotion to her kids and to me, is embracing and remarkable, crisscrossing the country when one is past eighty is not so simple, takes courage, planning and helpful children.
     We had a good visit, Vera and I, believe it or not after all these years we have sustained one another, we still had stories to share. New stories! Mothers-in-law and sisters-in-law seem to provide the best humorous and horror tales. We apparently saved them just for such a time when we were stuck inside because of the awful heat outdoors. We laughed a lot; it was much too late to weep over any of it.
     Friendship is an important ingredient with which to nourish health and well-being. Our relationship is mellow and strong. Today when we said good-bye neither of us shed a tear or made a grandiose statement about our mortality. I fully expect Vera to return to chat and to gossip; I may even summon the courage to go East. We will see each other again and if it is not to be, we had a really good time during California’s latest intense hot spell.

THE Heat

THE Heat                                                                    September 14, 2014

     Please everyone, all my friends especially, watch out for that heat out there.  I found myself drooping and not knowing why; I was feeling low and depressed, wondered if I was getting sick.  Was I coming down with something terrible?  Then I went outside to empty the trash.  I figured it out.  It is oppressive and therefore depressing.  The air even smells bad, hard to take a deep breath.
     As a kid we summered near the beach where it was never really hot.  For us temperatures
in the eighties were unbearable, we usually enjoyed the low seventies most of the summer. When it hit the high seventies or low eighties, my parents would call us kids from our beds because it was cooler outdoors and we were complaining loudly  about our discomfort.  As I curled up in Dad's lap, on the front porch, he would put his fingers to his lips to shush us, "Look", he said, "There is not a leaf moving, see how still the trees are?"  To this day I watch the leaves on a hot day and invariably repeat Dad's words.
     In later years while I was at college, on the opposite side of that coin, when temperatures fell below freezing, the Dean of Women would get on the loud speakers and say, "Young women, today is bitter cold out there, you may wear trousers!"  I wonder if today, the Dean gets on the speaker and allows, "Today because of the extreme heat, ladies pull up those short shorts."
     When I grew up and went to work I remember that our office closed when the temperature went above 90 degrees.  We were permitted to go home at lunchtime.  For some of us that was a dilemma.  There was work to be done, appointments to be cancelled, but most of the time we enjoyed getting home early enough to go to the beach for a swim; it was always cooler. In this heat at this time, I have not heard of any offices closing when the temperature hit 90. Everything in San Diego would be shut down.
     Those folks who are on the energy saver program with SDG&E, please be aware that your a/c will not be working at the top of the days heat.  The last time I inquired they said that they did not turn it back on until 6:45 pm.  That can make for a long very hot afternoon/evening.  I cancelled the program for myself.
     Most important is to drink extra fluid during this period. I understand that our blood system is busy keeping us hot, flushed faces and raised body temperature, so it needs the extra fluid. I beg those who are my peers and younger, not to exercise outside during the day. Take that walk very early in the morning or evening. The assault of the extra high heat requires changes in our routines or habits and unfortunately we are not always prepared to make changes and are often unwilling to do so.
     Those who feel faint, nauseated, dizzy and/or are suffering from a headache, rapid pulse or fast breathing, should seek medical help.  Of course if someone's body temperature goes to 103, call the doctor.  By the way, anyone taking a diuretic should ask the doctor how much fluid to take daily.  The water pills make a difference. Appropriate beverages do not include alcohol.  Stay cool, friends, play indoors as much as possible.
    

To Go or To Stay                          September 10, 2014                  

     Every day counts.  Recently I wrote about mindfulness, the need to know that concentrating on now is urgent to our mental and physical health.  As we age and grow past 90, the now becomes ever more important.  We literally do not know what tomorrow is going to bring, so let’s make the most of today.  Mindfulness is that simple to understand.

     Contrary to that thought there are many who anguish and ride the roller coaster looking for an answer to the question: what’s next?  If we need to become involved with that thought, the larger question for many is, how do we solve the problem of loneliness? That brings us back to now.  A psychologist friend told me that loneliness is the single concern that most of his clients/patients consider a priority issue when they seek the help of a counselor.  Widows and widowers, who are lucky, yes lucky to find a companionable mate, the second or third time around, have no time for loneliness.

     The rest of us, some who have aged out of companionship, can be busy and happy all day, but when we shut the front door after dinner, we are alone! Alone and loneliness are different states. All day long I am frequently alone and I relish my independence.  Some nights, on the other hand, the loneliness is down right painful.  I continue to live in my home, surrounded and embraced by a lifetime of memories. My question has become, “would I be less lonely, more satisfied if I moved into a retirement facility?”  I vacillate with ambivalence. 

     The other day I decided to write it down, to look at it, I dug into my thinking.  I formed two lists on a single sheet of paper: one column included the assets that I would accrue if I moved; the other contained the liabilities I would suffer.  I share this because the idea worked and I was able to sit back and understand, I really do not want to move.  Despite the fact that a retirement facility would mean no more meal planning, informal companionship would always be available, many activities and special trips would be there for me, though independent I would know that I was being looked after, emergencies deftly handled.  I would not be alone.

     On the liability side, however I found an equal number of hesitations.  For example, I have trouble in crowds; I have seen the gathering of impatient folks waiting for the dining room to open.  The hubbub of a dining room could spoil my appetite, offend my failing ears. I would have to adhere to a meal schedule, which I do not bother with by myself.  Taking a few favorite pictures with me would not satisfy my feeling of being embraced by my memories.  Every picture and hanging in this little house is in place because Erv and I chose that space for it. I do not know if I am up to the effort of making and keeping new friends.  Lastly my homecare insurance does not cover a facility.

     In sum, I faced the fact that I do not want to leave my comfort zone.  I will still have to close my front door at night, after dinner, I will be alone, loneliness will take over wherever I am.  There will not be someone with whom to talk about the day, to plan a bit of tomorrow, mindfulness aside, it is fun to plan together.  But my friends seem happy to listen.  Thank Heavens for my friends who live near and far.

     For those who are considering a change try the assets and liabilities lists, they might help clarify personal issues.  It would even work if there were perhaps, a child pushing one to make a change.                                                                                              

Letters to the Editor.                                    September 6, 2014

   I am still pleased to see my name in print.  The Los Angeles Times has seen fit to print two of my letters, one today and one in June.  Since I have stopped writing my weekly in the UT I have begun again to address the Times’ editor.  I also had a letter in a major Jewish magazine. Reform Judaism is circulated throughout the country to Jewish folks who are members of a reform (progressive) synagogue.

   The subject I addressed was tattoos!  That is an interesting non-religious issue, I was surprised to find it seriously discussed in Reform Judaism.  To begin, I have no tattoos, I  never was interested taking the plunge.  I argued with my husband when I decided to have my ears pierced and I won.  In those early days of our marriage ear piercing was still on the edge of a big taboo in Judaism.  Modern times and my argument overturned the remnants of tradition that did not fit our more progressive ideas. 

   Anything that might be construed as a desecration of the body is not permitted among many pious Jews. Tattoos never entered our discussion until our grandson, designed and paid for a tattoo on his shoulder. It is a great serpent, beautifully done.  At the time my only question was : “did it hurt?”  I did not discuss with Matt all the other concerns that I had regarding his inking his shoulder.  It was his shoulder and he was 21.

   I suggest that tattoos with a message are frequently a cop-out.  If we write it on our shoulders or across our chest, we never have to say it or act it out.  There are those who will say that they want the world to know what they believe or they wish to share their message of love or anger.  My issue with religious symbolism depicted in tattoos, is the same for all religions, though I only challenge my Jewish friends.  Those Jews who put a Mogen David (Star of David) or menorah (Judaism’s special candleabra) on their chests need also to act out their devotion to Judaism.  The wearing of one’s faith is not enough; we must live it to follow through properly.

   Judaism requires that we engage in tikkun olum, healing the world, that we live and respect the Ten Commandments.  In sum our Judaism requires us to try with our own lives to make the world a better place.  That is a big order that cannot be emphasized or explained by a Star upon the chest, it is too simplistic. Acts of faith are lifetime responsibilities.

   Though I truly enjoy seeing my name in print once in awhile, it pleases me more to know that my wee small voice is frequently heard.

The Sandwich Generation                                                 September 1, 2014

     What happened to the Sandwich Generation?  That is a concept from our very recent past.  During its heyday, it referred to those who were caring for their aging parents while, at the same time, raising children, a double whammy for those who were doing just that.  My Mom died at 67.  I remember leaving her hospital room on the run to pick up the children at school, cooking dinner for four and answering nurses’ questions, on the phone, at the same time.  Many of us involved in a career made the sandwich a triple-decker!

     Today there is no talk of the Sandwich Generation because we are living longer.  By living longer we have given our grandchildren time to grow up.  Now our children are coping with a different situation.  Just as science has made it possible for us to outlive our own parents, so it has made distances shorter, communication and transportation easier. Our kids wander the country seeking appropriate careers and we also wander seeking sunshine and easy living. So far, so good except when illness intervenes.

     I have friends who are coping with Moms who are alone with health problems.  It is no surprise that men seem to die more frequently than women. Studies have shown men at a higher risk of death.  According to the Census Bureau in the 85year old and older group, 43% of men have lost a spouse while 80% of women are widows.   As a result many friends are coping with “mom issues”.  When Mom lived on the other side of the country her day-to-day living was her own to enjoy or anguish.  Visits in between nourished the relationship.

     When illness intervenes, visits alone no longer meet the problem.  Our baby boomer generation is “stepping up to the plate”; their lives and those of their Moms are changing the geography, someone has to move.  It is not easy to tell Mother that she may no longer live alone so far away.  Some mothers are stubborn others are compliant.  Among my friends there are those who made the move from East to West because it made sense or it made her son happy, another is still arguing.  Moving an elderly person or even one not so elderly is a difficult maneuver for everyone.  Everyone’s life is interrupted.

     That is why there has to be a “talk”, the conversation about one’s wishes.  As well as we all think we know our mothers, there comes a time when we cannot outguess them.   As we, Moms continue to outlive everyone’s expectations we have to share our thoughts for the time when we cannot take adequate care of ourselves.  Our baby boomer children, on the other hand should think about “stepping up to the plate” or developing a contingency plan.  We simply have to discuss the subject of “what if…?”