I was having one of THOSE weeks last week - the kind where it seems nothing goes right. Some issues were minor but irritating such as our satellite dish service having us tear our systems apart and then not doing the job that they promised. Another more personal disappointment (among several) was that an important and lucrative appointment canceled.
Even more upsetting was that I lost every digital photo I stored on my old hard drive because it crashed and seems the back up service that I PAY FOR rescued documents and recent photos but not older photos in sub-folders. Prom photos - GONE. Vacation photos- GONE.
Mid-week when I was reeling from one bad day after another I began self-medicating with my brand of vice: Chocolate. In fact, if someone offered me intravenous chocolate last week, I would have paid for that.
Unfortunately, the tried and true self medication tactic wasn't working too well. Aside from sabotaging my fitness goals, (I will be on the beach in bathing suits in less than a week - yikes!) I was still blue even afterward. I tried shopping too - another form of medicine - and yes, I know this is unhealthy. (My closet is painfully aware as well. )
Then at the end of a long week, I received a thank you note from one of my daughter's friends in the mail. I have spoken in the past in blogs about my daughter Elissa's wonderful choice in friends, and how I love to have them in my home, doting on them as if they were my own children. (I like being Mom to anyone that spends regular time in my home.)
Aside from my two birth children and three step-children, (I hate that word) that I have many other "adopted" children who have lived with me, either briefly or through years and years of hanging around my house. These include a few exchange students that we have hosted that will always refer to me as their USA Mom and I am still in touch with them years later. Even ones I have hosted short term I have adopted into my fold.
Back to Jaime - she just graduated college with Elissa and I gave small gifts to some of her closest friends. So Jamie sent a thank you note - but not so much for the gift itself, she was in essence thanking me for being her second mom.
Elissa and all of her friends are all scattering about, some going on to graduate school, some to jobs in other cities, some taking the next year to travel. I will miss her gang which I saw intermittently through college due to school breaks when they would all gather round again.
My little pick-me-up in the form of a thank you note from Jamie:
Dear Gary and Arlene, (aka Mom #2)
"Thank you for your generous graduation gift. It means so much that you were thinking about me when you had your other daughter's graduation to tend to :).
I can't believe Elissa and I have already graduated, it honestly feels not that long ago when we first became friends and I was introduced to the many baked goods always available at your house.
I know Elissa and I will always be close so I will definitely keep coming around. (especially for sticky bread!)
Thank you for making me feel like a member of the family and thanks again for the great gift - I love it. Love, Jamie"
People often tell me that I have touched them with my writing, and I love to hear that I have a gift to share. Still, I think it's far more valuable to be able to touch an unrelated child with food and warmth in my home and make her feel part of my family. That is a gift that keeps giving.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Sandwiched - Caretaking Older and Younger Generations
When I think of a sandwich, I prefer to think about those gorgeous, generous ones at my favorite sandwich place, Kenny & Ziggy's.
But after hosting my parents recently, I thought of the term in a whole new way. It is after these visits that I feel terribly guilty that I moved far away from them and wonder what will happen if I am required to care for them at some point. (They have steadfastly declined to move here.)
I am still very tied to Houston and Texas due to my own children and many other obligations here.
People in the mid life years like me who are caught in between caring for the younger and older generations are referred to as the "sandwich generation."
My parents still live in my birth city 1300 miles away. They are 82 years old and in pretty good health and can still get around fairly well, despite having no children to look after them where they live. As described in a past blog, they live in a house mired in the 1970's, and on their own.
The signs are there, though, that this might not be the case in the near future. Both have aging brain issues; my mother has major short term memory loss and my dad is tuned out most of the time.(The kind where you worry about them turning on a burner and forgetting about it and burning the whole house down.)
I could write paragraph upon paragraph of their exaggerated quirks with aging. It is annoying to deal with when they are around, and then hilarious to recap. Yes, they will definitely appear as characters in my novel.
For example, my mother relies on my father for her short term memory. This includes making him the safekeeper of two items she must have at all times - her cane, and her rain bonnet. If the wind blows, she summons the rain bonnet, because she will not use hair spray or other chemicals to keep her hair in place and if there is even a wisp of a breeze, she summons my father, "Milt, where's my rain bonnet?" Not only does she summon my dad to produce the bonnet, she starts fretting he has lost it if he doesn't produce it in a nano-second. After witnessing this same scene approximately 80 times over the course of a few days, my husband Gary gave her a suggestion. "Marion, why don't you hold your own bonnet? That way you will have it whenever you need it."
This of course, was too logical. When she protested that she "doesn't have room for it," Gary showed her the 80's era multi-colored jogging jacket she carries with her at all times because she freezes in indoor air-conditioning. "This has two pockets that are empty - keep your bonnet in one of those and you will always know where it is and always have it available." (she also carries a half empty purse.)
But I digress: the above is just one reason why I am glad the miles separate us. All logical suggestions to make life easier, more pleasant, and more in the realm of the 21st century are ignored, met with disdain, or argued. Stubborn is too gentle a word to describe people who are mired in a time warp of thirty years ago when they were young and mentally sharper. Cemented and unyielding might work better.
This may change sometime soon and that is where the worry comes in. What happens when they can't care for themselves? What happens in a health crisis? I am here and they are there. I have jobs, family, obligations keeping me here and they stubbornly stay stuck and alone there.
I know other people in the sandwich generation have it much tougher - those who have parents who live closeby and have every day needs; some battling diseases such as Alzheimer's and juggling young children's schedules around amidst the whirlwind of youth activities.
In comparison, I have had it very easy all these years, worrying by phone and the occasional visit. To use a sandwich metaphor, I am merely a PB&J on white bread compared to some of you who are those piled high huge corned beef sandwiches, or sub sandwiches.
Let me hear how you handle it all.
But after hosting my parents recently, I thought of the term in a whole new way. It is after these visits that I feel terribly guilty that I moved far away from them and wonder what will happen if I am required to care for them at some point. (They have steadfastly declined to move here.)
I am still very tied to Houston and Texas due to my own children and many other obligations here.
People in the mid life years like me who are caught in between caring for the younger and older generations are referred to as the "sandwich generation."
My parents still live in my birth city 1300 miles away. They are 82 years old and in pretty good health and can still get around fairly well, despite having no children to look after them where they live. As described in a past blog, they live in a house mired in the 1970's, and on their own.
The signs are there, though, that this might not be the case in the near future. Both have aging brain issues; my mother has major short term memory loss and my dad is tuned out most of the time.(The kind where you worry about them turning on a burner and forgetting about it and burning the whole house down.)
I could write paragraph upon paragraph of their exaggerated quirks with aging. It is annoying to deal with when they are around, and then hilarious to recap. Yes, they will definitely appear as characters in my novel.
For example, my mother relies on my father for her short term memory. This includes making him the safekeeper of two items she must have at all times - her cane, and her rain bonnet. If the wind blows, she summons the rain bonnet, because she will not use hair spray or other chemicals to keep her hair in place and if there is even a wisp of a breeze, she summons my father, "Milt, where's my rain bonnet?" Not only does she summon my dad to produce the bonnet, she starts fretting he has lost it if he doesn't produce it in a nano-second. After witnessing this same scene approximately 80 times over the course of a few days, my husband Gary gave her a suggestion. "Marion, why don't you hold your own bonnet? That way you will have it whenever you need it."
This of course, was too logical. When she protested that she "doesn't have room for it," Gary showed her the 80's era multi-colored jogging jacket she carries with her at all times because she freezes in indoor air-conditioning. "This has two pockets that are empty - keep your bonnet in one of those and you will always know where it is and always have it available." (she also carries a half empty purse.)
But I digress: the above is just one reason why I am glad the miles separate us. All logical suggestions to make life easier, more pleasant, and more in the realm of the 21st century are ignored, met with disdain, or argued. Stubborn is too gentle a word to describe people who are mired in a time warp of thirty years ago when they were young and mentally sharper. Cemented and unyielding might work better.
This may change sometime soon and that is where the worry comes in. What happens when they can't care for themselves? What happens in a health crisis? I am here and they are there. I have jobs, family, obligations keeping me here and they stubbornly stay stuck and alone there.
I know other people in the sandwich generation have it much tougher - those who have parents who live closeby and have every day needs; some battling diseases such as Alzheimer's and juggling young children's schedules around amidst the whirlwind of youth activities.
In comparison, I have had it very easy all these years, worrying by phone and the occasional visit. To use a sandwich metaphor, I am merely a PB&J on white bread compared to some of you who are those piled high huge corned beef sandwiches, or sub sandwiches.
Let me hear how you handle it all.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
This Texting Craze Has Got to Stop!
I read with interest a story that ran in the Chronicle on Sunday about teens texting. There was a whole list of problems attached to the bad habit, including injured thumbs, and sleep deprivation. I personally would be curious to see the research on how it is increasing attention difficulties.
It's not just teens either. Young adults are in constant communication mode as well, either by Instant Messages or Texting. I understand that communication is important to people in these age groups but having a full conversation in staccato back-and-forth bursts of abbreviated language might spell doom for real communication skills (rather than tech devices) as these kids get older.
Even back when I was a pre-teen and teen, we communicated constantly, although it was a definite challenge with cord-tethered rotary phones with no call waiting that we had back then.
We wrote notes to each other in class because there was no such thing as cell phones or texting. Any given moment, there was something to say to a peer or friend, and we got the job done despite the primitive methods of communication. We weathered the embarrassment when the passed note got into the wrong hands. (not to mention detention if caught by the teacher)
Long phone conversations with friends led other friends to frustrating (hours of) busy signals - possibly the most obnoxious sound of my youth. Just when you REALLY had to tell someone something, instead of a voice coming on at the other end of the phone, a loud BUZZ-BUZZ-BUZZ sound would be received.
Now voices are becoming completely obsolete. I even read about people asking for divorce via text message. If the pop culture sites are correct, Britney Spears did it this way.
What's next? Will someone actually receive this message?
"WILL U MARRY ME? xxoo"
And will the person it's addressed to text the answer?
"4 sure <3 "
But I do worry that real conversation is replaced with digital conversation-- either IM's, Facebook entries, or text messages. Many have asked before: Is the art of conversation dying in this digital age? What do you think?
It's not just teens either. Young adults are in constant communication mode as well, either by Instant Messages or Texting. I understand that communication is important to people in these age groups but having a full conversation in staccato back-and-forth bursts of abbreviated language might spell doom for real communication skills (rather than tech devices) as these kids get older.
Even back when I was a pre-teen and teen, we communicated constantly, although it was a definite challenge with cord-tethered rotary phones with no call waiting that we had back then.
We wrote notes to each other in class because there was no such thing as cell phones or texting. Any given moment, there was something to say to a peer or friend, and we got the job done despite the primitive methods of communication. We weathered the embarrassment when the passed note got into the wrong hands. (not to mention detention if caught by the teacher)
Long phone conversations with friends led other friends to frustrating (hours of) busy signals - possibly the most obnoxious sound of my youth. Just when you REALLY had to tell someone something, instead of a voice coming on at the other end of the phone, a loud BUZZ-BUZZ-BUZZ sound would be received.
Now voices are becoming completely obsolete. I even read about people asking for divorce via text message. If the pop culture sites are correct, Britney Spears did it this way.
What's next? Will someone actually receive this message?
"WILL U MARRY ME? xxoo"
And will the person it's addressed to text the answer?
"4 sure <3 "
But I do worry that real conversation is replaced with digital conversation-- either IM's, Facebook entries, or text messages. Many have asked before: Is the art of conversation dying in this digital age? What do you think?
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