Archive | Uncategorized RSS feed for this section

Aging, Wisely and Joyfully

21 Feb

I spoke to my daughter a few days before her 29th birthday (yesterday). She lives in Israel and I live in the Kansas, so we spoke through a video chat. (Always makes me think of 2001: A Space Odyssey, when the astronaut calls his family from space.) My daughter was bemoaning her advancing age.

“I am going to be old!” She cried. “I am almost 30!”

“That is not old!” I insisted. “Look at me, I am 60. I am not complaining about being old.”

“Well once you are old, you are old!” She said. “I am not old yet, just getting there.”

We both laughed. But the truth is, I do not feel old. I feel pretty wonderful.

I recently participated in a two-day workshop on “Wise Aging” presented by instructors from the Institute for Jewish Spirituality. Although it was presented in Kansas City, there were participants from through the Midwest. We all learned how to be facilitators in this new program to help people transition in to the next stage of life.

I was surprised when I was called by our rabbi’s wife and asked to participate on behalf of our congregation. But she told me that she thought of me immediately when she realized she could not attend, as I was aging so wonderfully. That was two weeks before my 60th birthday, and I will admit to a bit of concern. But okay, I would do it.

The two-day workshop was intense and exhausting. Fourteen hours of learning and interacting with the other trainees as we attempted to learn about the Wise Aging program, bring this program to life and learn to teach it to others.

I loved the idea of helping people see themselves as elders as opposed to elderly. As we age, we have so much to give to others. We can mentor and teach from our experiences.

There was one part of the program I found distressing. There was much discussion about teaching people how to let go of bitterness and learn to forgive those in their past who might have hurt them. It seems many people, as they age, hold on to old hurts and real or imagined insults.

I say, “let it go.” As does this program. Let go of these feelings because bitterness only makes you feel worse. I am a firm believer of the rule of Rosh HaShannah and Yom Kippur to say I am sorry to any one I might have hurt and to forgive anyone who has hurt me. It is so much easier than carrying all that baggage around. And it makes life so much more joyful.

This workshop opened my eyes to how others see themselves as they age.   Whereas my husband and I are really enjoying our lives as empty nesters, others seem to have a difficult time.

So I say. Go to a lecture. We try to go to a program at least once a week.   There are many free lectures and programs available. Go to a concert. Take a weekend trip if you can. Get a kitten. Having a pet does wonders for people as they age. Travel with friends.

Yes the body starts to give out a little. But exercise is wonderful for keeping your body healthy. You do not have to run marathons like my meshugganah husband. But you can walk. I walk two to three miles almost every day.

Soup

Do something different. Yesterday, in honor of my daughter’s birthday, a friend of mine and I went to the new IKEA store in Kansas. I had not been there yet. We walked all around the showroom and the marketplace and the warehouse. I got lots of walking in and bought a few accessories. Then we went out for a bowl of chicken noodle soup and shared a black and white cookie at a deli. Happiness can be a bowl of soup and a cookie!

Find things that make you happy. And be happy. You have so many experiences to share and so much good to do. Volunteer for an organization you love. Meet new people. Keep being curious. My curiosity has led me to investigate further into my family history and I have found cousins I did not know I had. I love a mystery and solving it. Now I am focus on the mysteries of my family.

There is so much to do and so much more time to do it, now that I no longer have children at home.

So I plan to continue to age wisely and joyfully. I hope my example will help my daughter accept her almost 30 years and age joyfully as well.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

I Believe in Magic

5 Feb
Magic and Itchy

Magic and Itchy

Just a week ago, I brought a new kitten into my home. It had been very lonely since my Misty cat passed away in early August. My adult male cat, Itchy, was very sad and missing his companion. I was also missing the sweetness of my all white cat. But I was not ready to find another cat to bring home.

Misty had been in our home and part of our family for over 13 years. She was the sweetest cat ever. When we brought her home, she was just six months old, and a tiny ball of all white puff. In fact her shelter name was Puff. We changed it to Mystique, or Misty.

She had a favorite rocking chair to sit in, one that no one else sat in. She had a favorite toy that we called, Baby: a soft, fluffy, catnip filled toy in the shape of the Cat in the Hat. Misty carried it everywhere and would cry when she could not find it.

It disappeared about three years ago. We looked all over for it. Misty was distraught. I searched for another toy just like it, but could never find one. I eventually found a toy she liked in its place, but it was never the same.

On Tuesday, January 27, I saw Magic on the Wayside Waifs website. On Wednesday I went to visit her. On Thursday, January 29, I brought her home. She is six months old and weighs 5 pounds, just like Mixty.

On Monday Magic jumped up on Misty’s chair and fell asleep, just as Misty would sleep. She stayed there for hours.

Tuesday, Magic found the Cat in the Hat toy! She was playing with it in the family room. I think I know where she found it, but I am not sure. All I know is that when Itchy saw that toy and smelled it, his attitude totally changed towards Magic.

No more hissing or running away. Now he reached out and touched her tail.

When he first saw Baby he sat by it and just kept smelling it.   I believe it was a message from Misty to her companion to accept Magic as his new friend. By yesterday evening, their relationship had changed.   Itchy now allowed Magic to snuggle up next to him.

Magic was born about two weeks before Misty passed away, otherwise I would think she was the reincarnation of my beloved cat. So I know that is not the case. However, I am beginning to think there is a connection.

And for right now, one week since our new kitten came home, I Believe in Magic.

Tags: , ,

Magic is Coming to Our Home!

30 Jan

Magic is coming to our home!

It has been almost six months since my loving female cat, Mystique “Misty” passed away. Although we have a large male cat to keep us company, the loss of Misty was devastating.

It took me a while to get over this loss, even though I have had my pets pass away before. Somehow the loss of Misty was difficult for both my husband and me, as well as for our adult children.

Our son already had his own cat, Jinx, when Misty passed away. But our daughter, who was the closest to Misty, could not get another cat even though she has not lived at home for years. Once Misty passed, my daughter and her significant other went to a animal shelter and found their Castiel. They rescued a kitten who was blind in one eye and needed a loving home, which they have provided.

For me, I could not find it in my heart to bring home another cat. I thought having one cat was enough.

But my cat was not happy. He has been so lonely since our Misty died. He follows me everywhere. He needs to be held constantly. He wants to groom me. Waking up in the middle of the night to a cat licking your eyelid is not good.

So about two weeks ago I started looking at the Wayside Waif website to see what cats were available. No cats made my heart leap. Until yesterday, There on the website was a unusually colored 6-month old kitten named, Magic!

Today I called the shelter to see if Magic was still there. (It is not open on Tuesday.) And Magic was there!!! So I went to meet her and see if we could get along. This little creature was so scared. She had only been in the shelter for a week, having come from another shelter.

I spent 45 minutes with her and decided, “Yes!” I needed to bring Magic home. I put her on hold. Sent photos of her to my son, daughter and husband. We all agreed.

It was perfect. My cat , who passed away, was Mistique, this kitten was Magic. My husband actually does magic. So for once, I am not even planning to change this kitten’s name. Like in the Xanadu Magic song:

“You have to believe we are magic

Nothin’ can stand in our way”

Yesterday my son went with me to the animal shelter, Wayside Waifs. We adopted Magic! We took her directly to our vet at Cherokee Animal Clinic. She is a perfectly healthy and happy kitten. She is friendly and good natured, if course she is with me. But he still wants her isolated from our other cat for 10 days.

And then we brought Magic back to our home!

 

Tags: ,

Serendipity Wins In Finding a Family Connection!

27 Jan

Serendipity is when events happen by chance and cause success or benefit the person who the events occur around. Today, a few days after my birthday, my life was ruled by serendipity!

For about a year now I have belonged to a Facebook group entitled “Tracing the Tribe.” I joined it mainly to see if I could find anybody related to my maternal grandparents. And last summer I did make contact with a family member through this group.

Recently I began thinking about my paternal grandparents, and wondered if I could find anything out about them. A few days ago someone started a comment asking people to put up the names of the families they were searching for on to the site. I did not do this. But I was watching. They then put all the names into a spreadsheet.

GG Grandparents

So this morning, I checked. And there was a name I knew, Wolf or Wolff, or Wolfe. That was my great great grandparents last name. So I put up a post on the page addressed to the woman who had posted about the name Wolf. I just wrote, “ My gg grandparents were Victor and Esther Wolff. Does that match your search?” She was not related to me.

However, soon another man posted, EW. He had some interesting facts and names. Names that were familiar. We soon realized there was a connection. It was a distant one. But it seemed possible that his three times great grandfather was the brother of my two times great grandmother. If so, I would have much more information for my family tree.

And so we sent emails back and forth throughout the day. I sent him a photo of my great great grandparents. He sent me a photo of his great grandfather. And there were some similarities.

And through these emails and looking into my family information that I had gathered from my Grandma Esther in the 1970s, it was definite. We were related.

His three times great grandfather Israel Lew was the brother of my great great grandmother Esther Wolf.   And I now had the names of her parents, Jankiel and Mindel Lew/Lewin/Levin (who were cousins) from Ciechanowiec. I also now had the names of more of her siblings, including Israel Lew, there was Azriel Aharon Lew, Fedjda Perlowicz, Betzalel Lew, Abram Boruch Lew and three more!

WOW! I always knew that my Grandma Esther was named after her grandmother, but I now learned that my Great Aunt Minnie was named after her great grandmother Mindel. That was exciting.

Not only all this. But I found out that Victor’s Hebrew/Yiddish name was Awigdor/Avigdor, which I had not known before now. Although I knew he had to have a Hebrew name. And that Esther was also known as Etka, which was probably the European name.

EW also found the date that my great grandparents, Louis and Ray, married: January 28, 1894, almost exactly 121 years ago! What serendipity that I was finding this all out now. Right near their anniversary! I was a bit stunned. All by chance. By one little message on a Facebook group’s page!

There was so much information in the multiple emails my new relative sent me, I think I had an information melt down. As I read each email it made more and more sense, and I could see the lines making the connections.   It was like a mini revelation!

I cannot explain the glow and the excitement that went through me! One little posting and I learned so much!

I was so glad that I had sat with my grandmother 40 years ago to get this information so that I could now say with certainty, I can go back one more generation in my family’s lineage.

And perhaps more! My sister and I have been trying to find out where our great grandparents were buried. There in all the emails was information on Beth David Cemetary in Elmont, NY. If other relatives were buried there, I believe there is a good chance our great grandparents are also there.

Serendipity, Chance and little guts to put a post up on Facebook.   What a win!

 

 

Update.  Found out my great aunt and uncle are in Beth David Cemetery, but my great grandparents are in Washington Cemetary in Brooklyn.

Update 2:  Thanks to another distant ‘Lew’ relative, AB,  I have now seem my family tree of my great great grandmother Esther Lew Wolf and have seen my ancestor back to my seven times great grandparents…back to an ancestor born in 1720!  For a Jewish family that is quite amazing.  And I can do that in my maternal side as well!

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Take Mom to Work Day, at The Peres Center for Peace in Jaffa, Israel

1 Dec

My visit to Israel would not be complete without the ability to kvell about my daughter and her job. So I was excited when she told me that she would take me to work with her for a few hours to see her office and meet the people she works with at the Peres Center for Peace in Jaffa, Israel.

Situated in a unique glass and concrete building, the Peres Center for Peace is the vision of Shimon Peres, former president and prime minister of Israel and the recipient of the Noble Peace Prize. Now that he is retired from any political roles, and past the age of 90, he works each day at the Center, where he hopes that ideas and programs will help to create lasting peace between Israel and its Arab neighbors.

My daughter began working at the Center earlier this month, just a few weeks before I arrived. But it is her dream employment. With her master’s degrees in both Middle East Studies and the Politics of Conflict from Ben Gurion University in the Negev, she has wanted to devote her life to working for a world of peace.   In her previous job she did have a opportunity to work with non-profits that focused on community building, which gave her some satisfaction. But, now she has an opportunity to contribute. Yes it is in a small way, but she has a start. What mother would not kvell in delight and pride? So I will and I am.

A private tour through the building with my daughter was one of the highlights. It included a walk through the lovely auditorium, which faces the Mediterranean Sea. Just last week I saw pictures posted on the Center’s Facebook page of Peres meeting with a group in this very room. And in the back of the photo, I saw my daughter! Now I am walking down the stairs of the empty room and standing near the podium on the stage where Peres sat a few days ago!

Walls of concrete and glass reach to the sky around the bookcases.

Walls of concrete and glass reach to the sky around the bookcases.

We also visited the library, which one day will be open to the public. The library is an amazing space with ceilings that seem to reach to the sky, surrounded by walls made in alternating waves of glass and concrete.

Then we walked through the offices, where I met some of the people she works with each day. I enjoyed meeting every person, because now I have a face and a voice and a place for the people she had told me about. They are no longer just names floating in the internet cyberspace between the USA and Israel. Now they are real people who had the foresight to hire my daughter to join their important team.

Another highlight was to listen to her field a phone call from a potential volunteer who wants to help at the Center. My daughter (among other duties) is in charge of all volunteers and interns who want to also be a part of the Center and its work towards peace.

And it is okay that I did not meet Shimon Peres, I did not expect to. However, I looked through the frosted glass into the area where his office is located. And I saw the outlines of the people who were meeting with him. Again I kvell thinking that my daughter is working on the same floor as Peres. She told me the first time she saw him was on the elevator. How cool is that?

The view of Jaffa and the Sea from my daughter's office

The view of Jaffa and the Sea from my daughter’s office

As I sat in my daughter’s office, I looked out the window to Jaffa, and then to the Sea. I am looking at the view that she sees each work day. I look at this extremely modern building and it’s concrete floors, glass walls and wave like structures. I imagine my daughter working here for years as she lives her dream. But most important is the smile on her face and the joyful gleam in her eyes when she talks about her job!

On Facebook: The Peres Center For Peace. The one with over 16,000 likes. The other one is not it.

Tags: , , , , , ,

I Will Never, Ever Complain about New Jersey Drivers Again!

19 Nov

It has only been five days that I have been in India, but I have made a decision. Next time I am back East visiting my family in New Jersey, I will not complain about New Jersey drivers and their lack of driving courtesy and their inability to drive! I will no longer complain about the honking of horns or being cut off as I try to merge.

Living in the Midwest, in Kansas, for the past 30 years has spoiled me. Drivers are very polite where I live. If you enter a four-way stop, everyone stops and waits. They wave at each other in an effort to be polite. It used to drive my New Jersey Dad crazy. “What are they doing?” He would demand. “First person to the right goes first, why all this waving on!!” But that is the way it is.

I am no longer used to New Jersey/New York traffic. When I go back East I only drive limited routes where I feel most comfortable. I will drive up to the Catskills. I can drive a bit about my sister’s town. But I hate the highways.

However, I now I have totally different vision about driving after being in cars in both Mumbai and Dehli, India. I get motion sickness, so my husband suggested I sit in the front seat. He told me first, “Think of it as entertainment!” That is one word for it. I did not get car sick, but oh my heart!

IMG_4059

There are no true lines in the streets. There are no true rules of driving. There is a balance, a ballet between the cars, trucks, motorcycles, bicycles and people who sort of share the roads. Although there are lines marking off two lanes, it means nothing. Often five to six cars and motorcycles share the road across.

And a one-way street? Forget about it! I have seen cars and busses head the wrong way when they only had 30 to 50 yards to go! Why go the right way and follow traffic, when where you want to go is so close! Oh my goodness. My heart seemed to stop at times when cars were coming straight at us.

There are also little green and yellow motorized rickshaws, that are an added attraction on India roads. They look like covered golf carts, but they only have three wheels. My husband tells me they have motorcycle engines. But these small open ‘taxis’ hold two people and can easily slip between the other cars.

And I mean slip. The ballet continues as cars, motorcycles and rickshaws share the road and slip and slide between each other. A small open space gives anyone the chance to move forwards and around the other cars on the road. And they try.

IMG_4051

The motorcycles often have two riders…or three…or four: entire families riding together. Forget helmets in Mumbai. The driver sometimes wears them. But the wife and children do not. And the women ride side-saddle. How do they stay on? I have no idea. In Dehli many more people wear helmets, perhaps because the weather is much cooler? I am not sure. But watching the motorcycles zigzag through the traffic is a sight!

IMG_4055

The bicycles also join in the dance. A bicyclist can carry anything it seems. My favorite was the balloon bike. There were so many balloons all you could see what the rider’s feet. How he saw where he was going, I do not know. Perhaps the balloons would cushion any fall?

Pedestrians seem to have no fear. They cross the street anywhere at anytime. Highway, who cares. If you want to cross the highway, just walk.     In the middle of the street? Why not?

The worst emotionally, however, are the beggars. Young girls and boys walking along stopped cars trying to sell something, or just knocking on the windows asking for money. It broke my heart to see a small child holding a baby and come and knock on the window where I sat. “Don’t give them money. It is not going to them,” the driver would say. I was told to get candy to give out or something for them to eat. I will look for something for the rest of my trip.

And then there were the two small girls who started doing back flips and other feats between stopped cars during a red light in an effort to get money. They could not be older than 7 or 8. I was shocked. One stop light stayed red for four minutes. That was a major beggar domain. I l know we have poverty in the United States, but thank goodness we do not have children forced to knock on the windows of cars in busy traffic to try to get a few cents.

The ballet of traffic has its own music as well, the horns. Each horn has a slightly different melody as they honk away to keep from hitting each other. And it works. People do not view the honking of horns as an annoyance, instead it is an important tool to avoid accidents. In all this driving for days, daytime and night time, I have only seen one small accident, or the end of an accident. Either a woman fell off a motorcycle, or was hit by one, but not badly.

How do they all survive? There was only a few cars on the road that even had dents in them! Amazing. Maybe because with all the traffic you cannot drive quickly?

All I know is that sitting in the front seat of a car or taxi being driven in India is a treat, and entertainment with its’ own rhythm. The choreography of cars, motorcycles, bike, trucks, taxis and people; the music of the horns; they come together for an almost unreal scene.

We survived each trip so far. Only once did my friends and I really need a drink upon our return. One bottle of white wine was consumed as we celebrated surviving our journey through the streets of Dehli. “It was a near death experience,” one said. “I think I need a glass of wine,” I responded. “I think we need an entire bottle,” said the third.   And we did. While we waited for the rest of the group we decompressed with a drink and a snack.   And I hardly ever drink!

No I will never, ever complain about New Jersey drivers again.

Tags: , , , ,

Taking Trips Sometimes Bring Back Memories of My Parents

6 Nov

When I was a child, we never really traveled anywhere, except the Catskills. When there were school vacations, we might go visit an aunt and uncle in New Brunswick, but going on a trip that included a plane ride or a long car journey was unheard of to my family.

Each May we would go up to the Catskills for the Memorial Day weekend and get our bungalow open, aired out and ready for the season.   But then it was back to school for a month until the end of June when we journeyed up 17 to exit 104 and our summer home. But that was it.

My father traveled for his business. He went to Europe and California several times a year. He usually went to Milan and Como, Italy on business. Milan was/is the center of the fashion industry, and my Dad was in the textile/fashion industry.

Once in a while my Mom would travel with him, but not very often. She was a teacher and could not leave her class. She also did not want to leave us. But she did go to California and Milan several times.

When my parents were stilled alive, I went to Milan with my husband and son. My husband was speaking at a medical meeting there. My Dad told me in advance that I had to go to Como. He said it was a jewel of a city.

When we were asked if there was anything I wanted to do while there, I mentioned Como and the silk trade. I just wanted to find out how to get there.

Como

Next thing I knew, there was a private car with a driver/guide, as well as a translator, to take us to Como for a day and visit the Silk museum and school. This was the center of silk and textiles in Italy for many generations. I think they were amazed I knew about silk and Como. When most people mention Como they also mention George Clooney. But not me, for me it was all the textiles.

It was wonderful. The driver/guide had actually studied at the university there. Our interpreter really did not need to tell me what the guide was telling me. Once I got into the museum, I knew all about it from my Dad’s businesses, first his embroidery shop in New Jersey and then his textile firm where I had worked when I was in college.

The guide and I had a great time examining every machine and the display case. My son and husband walked around with the translator, while the guide and I bonded over textiles and jacquard embroidery machines.

That was many years after my father took his last trip to Italy. It had been years since his retirement and the closure of his business. I bought him a book about the museum. When I got back we spoke about Como, that jewel of a city. A day was not enough. I could spend a week or more there. It is lovely.

I remember my first plane journey. It was with my family. We used to get dressed up to fly in those days. No sweats and t-shirts! The winter break of my freshman year of college, my family went to Florida and stayed at the Fontainebleau in Miami. It was the vacation of a lifetime for us. We had never journeyed so far from home before. My sister, brother and I had a wonderful time just relaxing on the beach.

I do have one regret. My sister, who was a sophomore in high school, wanted to go to Disney World. There was a bus trip we could have taken. But I did not want to go, and my parents would not let my sister go alone. My sister and I finally did get to Disney World together and spent a day at Epcot. I felt like I had redeemed myself. I loved it! We had a wonderful time. I had been to Disney World many times with my husband and children. But going with my sister was special.

Forty years later I went back to the Fontainebleau with my husband. I stood at the pool and I told concierge that it had changed so much since I had last been there. He was so impressed with how much I remembered from the trip when I was 18 that he gave me a copy of a small book written about the hotel’s history as a gift. I was thankful. The photos in the book brought back so many memories of that earlier trip with my parents and siblings.

My parents’ biggest trip, without us, was when I was a senior in high school and they went to India for three weeks. They never forgot that trip. The highlight for them was going to the Taj Mahal, the tomb of Mumtaz Mahal, the wife of a Shah/emperor.   I saw the photos and remember my Mom’s telling me it was the most beautiful building in the world.

My husband has seen the Taj. He told me that the Taj Mahal was the most breath taking building he has ever seen. That even when he was leaving, he kept turning around to look at it again because it was so beautiful and amazing. His descriptions matched those of my parents’ recollections. And my interest in the Taj Mahal became more intense.

I have never gone to India, even though my husband has been there twice. But I made him and myself a promise. If he ever had to go to India again, and he was going to Agra where the Taj Mahal was located, I would go with him.

Later this year I will follow in my parents’ footsteps once again. I will walk up the path to the white marble tomb and see the building that fascinated my parents and my husband. I am going to see the Taj Mahal.

 

 

See:

https://zicharonot.wordpress.com/2014/04/22/becoming-an-adult-in-three-weeks-my-senior-year-of-high-school/

https://zicharonot.wordpress.com/2014/02/26/a-hudson-county-embroidery-shop-started-my-dads-career/

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

A Night in the Hospital Used To Be a Nightmare for Children

26 Oct

 

My actual Candy Striper Hat from the early 1970s. I had to wear it at the hospital.

My actual Candy Striper Hat from the early 1970s. I had to wear it at the hospital.

When I was a sophomore at North Bergen High School I volunteered as a Candy Striper at North Hudson Hospital on Park Avenue, in Weehawken, New Jersey. For about a year I went once or twice a week after school or on the weekend to work mainly in the children’s wing, doing whatever the nursing staff requested. I also made origami animals for the children in the wards.

In those days there were strict visiting hours. Parents could not spend the day, much less the night with their children. And children were often lonely and scared. Since I was allowed there at times other than visiting hours, I could visit with the children. Making the origami figures cheered them up. I always gave my creations to the children when I was done. I worked enough hours to earn my 100-hour pin and more.

My volunteering came about because of my sister and my own experience in the hospital. When I was six, I had tonsillitis. For months I had tests and blood tests. They told my parents I had leukemia, which then was a death sentence. It turned out that I only had tonsillitis. What a relief! But I needed my tonsils out!

I remember my Dad taking me to the hospital in the morning and promising to be with me all the way. But after the nurses took me on the gurney to the elevator, my Dad was left behind when the elevator doors closed. I remember screaming for him all the way to the operating room.

I was traumatized. So was my Dad. He told me years later that he would hear the sound of my screaming in his dreams.

Because of this horrible experience, when my own daughter needed surgery when she was six, I looked for options.   Things had changed over the years, but most important I am married to a pediatrician.   We knew the surgeon and the anesthesiologist. My husband was allowed to scrub in and go with our daughter into the operating room. Once she was under the anesthesia he had to leave. But at least she was not alone, like I was so many years before.

It was not only this event that made me want to be a Candy Striper. I was hospitalized several times as a child for bronchitis, which I found out later in my life, was asthma. Those few days alone in the hospital without my parents, except for short visits were horrible. Scared and alone, I would often cry.

But the worst was my sister. When she was in elementary school she had an emergency appendectomy.   The surgery went fine, but they put her in a room with other children and she developed all sorts of diseases: strep throat, a staph infection and more. She was in the hospital for over two weeks.

It was a horrible time for my family. I remember my parents crying and worrying. They were only allowed in the hospital for a short period two or three times a day. Traveling back and forth was difficult. My parents were both working. My brother and I were not allowed to see her, as children were not allowed in the hospital.   I remember going there one time and sitting in the car in the parking lot. My Mom went upstairs and my sister waved to us from the window, we got out of the car and waved back.

My sister finally came home. But she was home from school for another two weeks. We were a totally stressed out family by this point. Everyone was on edge and scared. That two-week period is nothing compared to what other families faced. Not being able to be there made it so much worse!

Life is so much better now that parents able to visit their sick child in the hospital whenever they like, even to spend the night with them. Not that anyone should get sick. But at least if they are sick, parents are allowed all the access they need and want. Children’s hospitals do all they can to make hospitalizations as easy as possible. Bright colors and decorations make the hospital look cheerful. The scary old look of hospitals is eliminated as much as possible in today’s children’s hospitals.

Another change is the limited time spent in the hospital. When I had my tonsils out in 1961, I spent two nights in the hospital. When my daughter had her surgery she was sent home that evening, partly because my husband would be home in case of an emergency. But even if she stayed, it would have been for less than 24 hours. (I will admit that I spent the night on the floor of our daughter’s bedroom.)

Part of the reason for the limited hospital stay is exactly what happened to my sister. Patients in the hospital have infectious and contagious diseases. It is best not to be around them. Now children have private rooms with space for the parents to stay. Then my sister was in a room with at least one other child at all times. There was no room for parents. And the other occupant could spread disease.

So with this history, as soon as I was of the right age, I volunteered at the North Hudson Hospital to help children. I had a great time for about a year. Then something happened. All I knew is that I was in the office of the head of volunteering and my Dad came to get me.   I honestly did not remember what happened, except that I was sick to my stomach.

I never went back to the hospital after that. And I decided I never wanted to be a nurse or a doctor. (I still think it is strange that I married a doctor.) But I kept my Candy Striper hat because I was proud of what I had done.

Years later, I was telling my daughter about being a Candy Striper and how I loved being with the children. She asked why I stopped. I told her I really did not know. My Dad happened to be with us during this conversation. He said, “You don’t remember? You went into the wrong room. A man had, who had been in a car accident, died, and you passed out.”

No wonder why I have always hated the sight of blood and disliked going to the hospital. It all made sense. But I am glad I volunteered for the time I did.

Luckily for me, my children never had to spend the night at a hospital. But over the years, many of my friends’ children have had surgeries or have had to spend a night. I am so glad their experiences are so much better than they were in the 1960s! I am so glad that parents and family can visit and give the children the love and support that they need. I am glad that it no longer is a nightmare for children who are sick to spend the night in the hospital.

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Voting Is Your Obligation! Not Just Your Right!

20 Oct

I vote! Since I moved to Kansas and settled, I have voted in almost every election including primaries. I say almost, because for a long time I did not affiliate with either party. And as an independent, you cannot vote in primaries. But living in Kansas, I realized that being a registered Republican was the way to go, as that is the party where the most important primaries are held.

When I first got the right to vote, I remember my parents telling me that voting was not just a right, it was my obligation. If I did not like how the government ran, but I did not vote, then I had no grounds to complain. And then they pointed out that in Germany of the early 1930s if more ‘sane’ people had voted, perhaps there would not have been a Nazi Germany.   In fact the silent majority should never be silent. Their voices must be heard. And the ballot is a good place to be heard.

In college I studied politics as my minor. It was a good background for understanding the political process. Not one that is very pleasant right now, but I do understand it.

So for each and every election, I read. In the past it was just newspapers and articles in magazines. Interviews on television helped. But now with the internet, I do lots of research. In Kansas we even re-elect judges. There used to be a website to see how judges were rated. I went there as well. Now it is a little more difficult, but there is one to review the major judges.

Over the years I would keep a list of those candidates I wanted to vote for so that on Election Day I easily be able to cast my ballot. And I always listed the issues and the vote for those as well. At first my husband and I had separate views on voting, but over the years he slowly moved to my point of view. I vote for the person I think will do the best job whether they be democrat or republican. I have had signs for candidates from both parties on my lawn at the same time.

Eventually he just asked me for my list. We used to joke that I control his vote. But this led to conflict with our daughter.

When my daughter was a senior in high school, she took American Government as one of her classes. It is a class that all students need to take in Kansas, perhaps in other parts of the country as well.

It was early November. Not a big election, just local. We were at the dinner table when my husband asked me for the list, as he was going to vote early in the morning.   I had it ready. And as I gave it to him, I also explained the topics/issues that were going to be voted on, besides electing officials. I explained that for one a Yes vote really meant No and he should vote No, even though we were for a yes decision.

As we were discussing the list, my daughter started ranting.   “I cannot believe you are telling Dad who to vote for!! Don’t you know that in this country people do not have to tell who they are voting for?! It is private. Dad should be able to vote for and how he wants without you telling him!”

My husband and I looked at each other. And calmly, my husband responded, “Your Mom reads everything. She researches. She analyzes and she thinks about who and what will be the best vote for her. I respect your Mom’s opinion. And I do not have the time to do the research she does. She is not telling me who to vote for.   I am asking her.”

I thought it was great. Our daughter stomped to her room. And we continued the conversation.

2012 election, a long line to vote!

2012 election, a long line to vote early!

In Kansas we can vote early, so that Election Day is not so crazy.   And it helps especially for those who work long hours. I often go with a good friend and neighbor. We laugh because we know that we are cancelling out each other’s votes for most of the candidates. I think her husband thinks we are crazy. But we enjoy standing on line to vote.   Since my children vote I have been doing this more often with them.

Back to my daughter: that winter she turned 18. At her high school she could register to vote, which she did. I gave her the same speech my Dad gave me. In the fall she would be able to vote in her first election. It was a big one. President, senator, congressman, state and local officials were all up for election.

She sent away for her absentee ballot as she was in college in New Jersey. The ballot came back filled with names and issues.

The phone rang. It was my daughter.   “Mom,” she said contritely, “ could you email me the list?”

“What list?” I asked politely.

“You know what list. The list of whom you are voting for!” She said a little strongly.

“Nope. I cannot send you the list. I don’t want to tell you who to vote for. In the USA everyone gets to decide for themselves.” I thought telling her what she had yelled at us the previous year would make my point.

“OK, I understand what Dad was saying. There are so many people and issues on this ballot. I don’t know who to vote for. May I please have the list,” she responded. (I know these are not the exact words, but they are very close.)

So I emailed it to her. I now provide information for three voters. Since she lives out of the USA and does all her voting by absentee ballot. Since she does not know what is happening locally, I send her my list every year for her to fill her ballot. We do discuss the issues and the candidates. She can vote for whomever she wants to. But my list is the starting point.

As for my son, he is much more agreeable at times. And for voting, he never argued. He turned 18 one month before the 2008 election.   He was excited. He registered to vote immediately. In Kansas we don’t have primaries for presidential candidates; instead, we have a caucus. My son went with his Dad to the Democrat caucus. They allowed young people to come and caucus even if they were not registered Democrats. It was a great experience for him. The school was packed! What a wonderful lesson for everyone of democracy at work.

I was at the Republican caucus with my friend. We of course voted for different Republicans for president. But it was still an important part of the democratic process. And I am glad I participated.

When election time came in November, there was no discussion.   My son and I went early to vote. We stood on line together. I took a photo of him standing on line for his first election. A friend of mine is one of the election workers, and she was the one to sign him in for his first vote.   We were all excited. Voting is so important. I was glad my son let me go with!   I did not get to do this with my daughter, so I was excited to do it with my son.

He took his copy of the list and I took my copy of the list and we both went into separate voting booths and voted. I now advise four voters, myself included.

Voting is an obligation. Being an informed voter is also an obligation. Do not just go into the voting booth and push buttons. Know the issues. Know the candidates. Then vote! Yes my family takes my list. But I discuss every decision I have made with them. They have a choice. Once they are in their voting booth they can vote for whomever they want. I just provide information.

Remember now you have to bring identification to vote in Kansas. Do not miss your chance to have your voice heard.

Election Day is coming. VOTE!

Tags: , , , , ,

The Chicago Marathon as a Spectator Sport

12 Oct
The non-elite runners lined up to start the Chicago marathon.

The non-elite runners lined up to start the Chicago marathon.

My husband is running the Chicago Marathon for the 8th time in ten years. When he turned 50 he decided he wanted to run a marathon. So he started training and at age 51 ran his first full marathon.   Over the years he had to miss two Chicago Marathons due to travel or injury. But he continues to train. And this year, at age 60, he is running again. I also prepared, for my role as a marathon spectator.

This year was different. In January my husband herniated a disk in his spine.   It was at the most inconvenient location, but with the miracle of surgery, he was able to have a microdiscectomy and recovered. However there were some issues he had to battle. First with no exercise for eight weeks, his right leg muscles had atrophied. He battled to get his leg back into shape. Even with all he did, that leg is still a bit weaker than it was before and his training took a bit of a hit.

Second he is a drop slower than he was before. As I watch his progress in the marathon on text message alerts, I can see that he is running about 20 seconds a mile slower than he did last year at the beginning of the race. Not a major difference, but when you are going 26 miles…that adds minutes. And as the marathon progresses, I know he will slow down. So I am a bit worried in my role as spectator.

I do not run marathons. I do not run. I walk. I enjoy walking. I try to walk 2.5 to 3 miles daily. Yesterday, as we are in Chicago I walked 8.9 miles all along the waterfront, in the Field Museum and along Michigan Avenue. Over 17,000 steps, but that is my limit. I have no desire at all to go 26 miles. In fact, to a degree, I think my husband is mildly insane. As is his friend who is running the marathon as well.

The night before I went online and set up text messaging alerts so I would know when they started, hit 10 k, half way, 30 k and finished. It is important as a spectator to know when these events occur. I will admit, this year the notices were much more timely than they have been in the past.

They started out together this morning. At 7:00 in the morning, they left the condo and walked to the corrals. I got up for a few minutes to take their annual pre-marathon photo. Then they left. They would start about the same time, but since his friend runs much quicker, (his starting pace was 10:41 per mile), he will be done at least an hour earlier than my husband if he keeps this pace.

They prepared for this. They trained for this. They ate their pasta dinner last night. They have their special shoes, socks, clothes, their energy foods and drinks. They want to run. But at age 60 and one week; and age 59 and 10 ½ months, the training and the running take a toll.

Before my husband ran this year, his cardiologist ran a new test. And my husband’s heart was fine. The doctor turned to me and said, “I wanted to tell him he could not run this year. But he looks great.” And that is all my husband needed. He brings me doctor reports each year to prove all is okay, because I am nervous about this 26.2 mile run. But as a spectator, I had to go along with the doctor’s decision.

I fill out the back of my husband’s number bib with emergency numbers. I go to watch to make sure all is okay. They both know not to rush and to stop if it is too much. But with the weather as nice as it is, I know they will both finish this year.

As a marathon spectator, I cheer on everyone I can. If I see someone with their name emblazed across their shirt, I scream for them. I figure if they put their name on they want the encouragement. I love watching for those who are newly married or engaged. They often wear veils or announcements on their shirts. This year was not different. I saw a couple wearing bright yellow shirts. One said “she said yes.” The other, “Newly engaged.” This year I saw someone wearing a Royals t-shirt. Of course I cheered him on. As a citizen of the Kansas City metro area, we are all Royals right now.

There were people dressed as comic book heroes, Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman. There were people wearing capes, skirts and costumes. There was a man juggling as he walked.

Some were running, some were walking, some were stretching, some were drinking energy drinks. All were intent on their goal.

My friend and I always wait about the 16-mile marker to cheer our husbands on their trek. This year was a bit different. Usually we are part of a crowd of their children, spouses and a grandma. This year they all could not come. So it was just my friend and I. But we kept tradition. We waited till both of our husbands ran past. We gave them extra energy food and water. We provided each with encouragement. Then we completed another marathon tradition for us as spectators and walked to Athena Restaurant in Greek town for a delicious lunch.

We had roasted lamb and potatoes. And talked about our children and our husbands. Then we slowly walked back to the condo. Along the way I congratulated everyone we saw who was wearing a medal or a silver blanket. I figured if they ran that marathon they deserved a little praise. They all responded with a “thank you.”

I took a photo for a young couple who were taking photos of each other. Of course they wanted a photo together with their medals and silver blankets, so I took it for them.

When we returned to the condo we waited. The first text arrived. My friend’s husband was done. An hour later he returned. Tired, but happy. A short time later the other text arrived. My husband had completed the marathon. With his arrival back the marathon was officially over.

They both ran faster than they had the year before and were both pleased with their run. They were tired and sore. But had a great sense of accomplishment.

Now they start the plans for next year and another marathon. And I am ready to continue my role as marathon spectator. A job I enjoy!

Tags: , , , ,

← Older Entries
Newer Entries →