There are two parakeets living in the Activity Room of the Mansion Assisted Care Facility in Cambridge, N.Y. They have no names, and the Mansion residents have been stymied and are asking the help of the blog readers in suggesting names for them. When they first asked me to do this, I balked, it wasn’t really what I do, but then that seemed snobbish to me, so I agreed.
They could use a hand. I know nothing about these birds other than that they are much loved and studied and need names. One is white and blue, the other speckled blue and green.
You can refer to them as the “white one” or the “green and blue” one if you wish to participate. If you have an idea for a name, you can e-mail Activity Director Julie Smith – [email protected] and she will print out the names and present them to the residents.
I’m not a bird guy myself, I am of no use.
The residents are stumped. Thanks for helping. It isn’t every day I get asked to do this.
It is in the nature of human beings, I believe, to pass their fears and alarms along to one another, i have learned to accept this, even as I wonder at it. It is not my human nature, and I don’t really know why, terror-and-pain sharing was a common trait in my natural family.
I had a root canal this morning in Saratoga Springs, and when I came into the office of Dr. John Turco, a nurse came out to greet me and shake my hand. She was so upbeat and friendly I remarked upon it, and she said so many patients came into the office very worried because so many other people had told them horror stories about it, she was determined to be positive and upbeat to calm them.
I appreciated it because I could not believe how any people shook their heads, rolled their eyes, told me awful stories about their root canals, or horror stories people they knew. One friend told me a piece of a steel pick had broken off in his wife’s mouth and could not be extracted. I would not even want to spread some of the many stories I heard about root canals whenever I mentioned it, which I soon enough stopped doing.
Why, I wonder, would people wish to frighten other people when they have some trouble? I recall the same thing happening when I had open heart surgery, very few of the people who heard about it suggested I would be alive to speak to them again, or if I did, I would be barely recognizable. I was home at work three days after the operation.
Dr. Turco said he often heard those stories from patients, we both agreed that there is something in human nature that competes for title of long-suffering or most suffering. People want to share their pain. My theory is that people want to pass along their fear. Fear is infectious, like a virus. As a survivor of countless panic attacks, I vividly remember how often people went out of their way to tell me frightening or self-pitying stories.
And that’s what lament is, really, another form of self-pity
People told me of pain and long ordeals, incompetent doctors and failed procedures, of mishaps and pain. I should say my root canal, which took about 45 minutes, was absolutely painless, no more pain that a cavity repair, perhaps less. I felt no pain whatsoever, and mild tenderness in the temporary crown for an hour or so afterwards.
I think it is fair to say that my experience did not accurately reflect the attitude or information of a single human being who spoke to me about it, it was almost as if people needed me to feel afraid, perhaps because they had been made to feel afraid. That is the most generous interpretation I can offer.
The technology involved in root canals – effective numbing techniques, high-speed, lighting quick drills, more detailed X-ray and microscopic technology have transformed the process of a root canal, and when a friend told me he was due to get one next week I said, “oh, great, it will most likely be quick and painless.” And that is the truth.
The doctor knew precisely where he was going and what he had to do, and he did it very quickly and efficiently. I was shocked when it was over. I hadn’t realized he had really even gotten to the canal clean-up.
According to a survey by one patient’s organization, about 95 per cent of root canals are quick and painless without complication, about 5 per cent require re-visits because of infections or some other problem. It is very rare to have a problem with a root canal.
I notice that this fear-sharing phenomenon is true of politics also.
People compete to be the most aggrieved and victimized and are eager to share their idea of bad and fearful news. I cannot count how many people have warned me that an era of Nazi-style politics is descending upon us and that ought to be prepared. I am not prepared for that, and will not be prepared for that.
I heard a supposedly respected commentator on an Albany radio station warn this morning as I drove to the dentist that as soon as there is a crisis, the media will be shut down and reporters threatened or jailed. Government troops will move aggressively to take our rights away.
She said this as if this was a widely expected certainly.
As a former journalist and media critic, I would say the press is alive and well in our country, they are giving at least as much as they are taking if not more. Politicians and reporters are not supposed to like one another or share the tables at posh dinners with celebrities. My wish for every journalist is to be banned from closed-door off-the-record chit-chats with politicians and given no choice but to go out and talk with people.
Perhaps we would not be so shocked or ill-prepared for what the country is thinking and feeling. In our country, the media is way too arrogant to be silenced.
But that’s another story. My own story this morning was my root canal, and I did whine about another writing day being disrupted. Will I ever get to work in an undistracted way on my book? I made it a point not to whine about my root canal.
The big news about my story is that you ought not take what people say about root canals too seriously. People love to hand off their fear and laments. I don’t accept them. I carry an imaginary cup around with me at all times. When someone tells me their sad story, or speaks poorly of their life, or tries to make me feel frightened or angry, I just tell myself “put it in the cup.” And I do, and it stays there, I don’t take it in.
Try it, it works. And if you have to get a root canal, as so many of us do, don’t tell people about it, and don’t pay too much attention to them if you do. It is not that big a deal. The truth is, as I told the doctor, I am very grateful medical technology has advanced so dramatically that I could call Maria when I was done, and say that was fine, it didn’t hurt a bit.
This afternoon, before I wrote this, I ate an apple and ate some hard crackers with goat cheese, using my temporary crown and re-furbished tooth. Didn’t hurt a bit.
Dr. Turco and I and his nurse had a fine time. We traded stories, laughed and before I could even settle into the chair, it was over. Instead of passing along fear and hard stories, I think I will pass along some hope and optimism.
Life is not always perfect and somethings we will have to deal with bumps. There are real tragedies and traumas in the world, I’m happy to report that for most people, a root canal is not one of them.
It is, like a flat tire or crashed computer, just life.
Helping The Refugee Children (Above. Rachel Barlow’s son Ethan)
Rachel Barlow, an illustrator, author and painter, has launched a desperately needed and wonderful project for the refugee children called draw.paint.create. It is designed to help children who have recently come to America and are struggling to deal with enormous cultural and practical challenges.
She is seeking to raise $900 to get these creativity kids into the hands of refugee trauma victims.
These are the children in the greatest need.
They have lost almost everything in their lives, have few friends. In many cases – there are language, money, transportation, trauma, and other barriers to a normal life – these children have lost their culture and means of natural expression.
Barlow, a well-known Vermont artist and writer, has designed art kids for children who are sometimes housebound, sometimes in foster care, have yet to acclimate to their new world, or are recovering from trauma.
So many are.
Recently, I met a young girl from Syria who is eight years old. She has been in America for a few months, thanks mostly to the U.N. Refugee program. Her father was killed in a bombing raid, her mother was burned to death in a religious execution.
She and other children like her are in dire need, they are here legally, they pose no threat of any kind to Americans or their families.
This girl speaks little English, has no friends of yet, and her foster parents are afraid to let her go out of the house alone, they are frightened by the new politics of immigration, and the sense that they are not wanted here. They hear of attacks on immigrants all over the country, and fear they have stumbled into yet another nightmare. I would say to them that that what our country is about.
This girl’s foster parents are terrified they may not be able to stay here themselves, and they have no idea what her fate would be if they come to harm.
This young girl draws all the time, but has no real artistic tools, and the kits Rachel are assembling will give her the tools she needs to draw, sketch and paint – brushes, paper, pencils and markers, ideas. She and her foster parents are afraid to have her photographed.
Rachel wants to get 60 of these tools into the hands of children who have recently arrived in America. She has already made a dozen or so of these kits, she is seeking the $900 to make all 60.
It is hard for me to imagine a better cause, many of us have been contributing to the Refugee Gift Page set up by the U.S. Committee on Refugees And Immigration, this work is targeted very precisely on some of the new Americans with the greatest need. These children have suffered greatly, are in a strange and sometimes hostile environment, and spent much of their time alone or inside.
There is considerable evidence that creative expression is a powerful healing element in trauma care. Creative work is more than entertainnent, it is a way for these children to build their confidence, improve cognitive development, communicate with their peers, and occupy their time in a meaningful and productive way. These are not kids who have grown up glued to screens and Facebook.
I am aware that this community is not wealthy, nor am I, it is sometimes difficult to know what to give to or what to do.
My belief is that rather than arguing, I wish to do good every day in one way or another. Sometimes it involves money, sometimes support and listening and compassion. A friend of mine keeps asking me what I will do down the road when things get to a turning point.
I told him I am not concerned with what I might do down the road, but with what I am doing right now.
These children are at the epicenter of human identity for me, if we cannot help innocent and suffering children, then our hearts have turned to stone and we have lost our sense of humanity. This for me is about the celebration of a noble spirit, our own individual ideas of social justice, our highest human potential.
It is not about what politicians say or do, or what the left or the right says or does. It is about what I say and do and feel. Moral choice is about individuality, not the group or the mob. I have to respect the face I see in the mirror every morning.
I wish to help these children right now. I want them to know they are loved and cared for.
In my own life, I have seen the power of the creative spark to liberate and transform people. In the Kabbalah, God says the only thing human beings ought fear is to fail to light the creative spark within them. Here, we can help children to light it for themselves. You can donate any amount you wish to the draw.paint.create program designed by an artist who knows whereof she speaks, creative work has lifted her out of trauma, abuse and depression. You can use Paypal or major credit cards. $5 is as good as $100.
This week, I am going to do all I can to try to get Rachel the money she needs to complete this very great work.
She is in touch with refugee volunteer workers in New York State, they will make sure these kits get into the right hands. I thank her for doing this, I thank you for listening.
Our farmhouse is believed to be more than 200 years old, and we have come to love it and its character, sturdiness, and sense of tradition. This week, a new chapter in it’s long and rich history, a sense of India has come to infuse the old house.
An umbrella from Udaipur is in one corner of the living room, a fan from Kolkata is sticking out of one of our candle holders on the mantel. Earrings and postcards and beautiful pieces of fabric are showing up here and there. India has come to the farmhouse, something it’s original owners could not have fathomed.
Now, the “Sari” curtains made out of Sari fabric used to make the farmhouse and very beautiful and unique dresses worn by women in India. Maria loves the Sari made for her, and I imagine she will wear it one day out to do the barn chores. I love this new evolution, Maria works magic with her sense of color and artistry.
All sorts of things are magically appearing from her suitcase.
Yesterday she cut and trimmed the “Sari Curtains,” as I called them, she even took her scissors to them and cut fringes along the bottom, I loved the way the light shone on this work in the afternoon. For Maria, life and art are not two different things but one thing, and it is mystical to see this new sensitivity begin to work it’s way through the house.
She looked so at peace trimming these curtains, and so at home.
The “Sari Curtains” have transformed the living room, it already has a different sense of color and style. I am eager to see what comes next, and I never know until I see it.
