Day: April 18, 2018

A woman on Facebook posted a message the other day, she said she always tells her children to expect nothing, they may be pleasantly surprised, and never disappointed.

We learn early enough to be wary, almost never to be hopeful. Hope is the message of the marginalized, the ones who never get to go on the news, the ones who live on the edges of our lives, with dirty storefront windows and drooping plants.

I know that to expect nothing is a common and popular way to look at the world, but it is not what I told my child. I said to expect everything, and you will never be disappointed. And she has everything she ever wished for, and is not disappointed.

It’s a different way of looking at the world.

I need to ask Emma if it turned out to be good advice or not. I live in a Community Of Hope, and quite often I feel as if I am the only resident being there. People look at me strangely when I tell them that.

I love dogs for many reasons, but one of them is that they never give up hope.

They are always hoping to go to the sheep, to chase a ball, to get a treat, to get fed, to take a ride, to go for a walk. They never give up hope, are never discouraged or disappointed.

They just get up and try again, and thus they get almost everything they want. I am that way, I have to confess, hope, faith’s first cousin, entered my life a few years ago and has made a nest in my soul.

Thomas Merton often said he was growing older, he never once  said he was old. I like the term, I am growing older all the time. At the Mansion today, a  resident named John threw a fit because he wanted to go outside, and an aide told him it was too cold and slippery. I encouraged him to come in and see Red, and he got angry with me and shouted “I am 67 years old, and I can’t be told what to do.”

I smiled and said softly, “well, I am nearly 71 years old and I am suggesting that you stay inside and sit on that bench right there.” This impressed John greatly, and he grudgingly deferred to me. “Oh,” he said, still grumbling, “well, 71…” He sat down.

When you get older, there is little to guide you, unless you like to read hysterical AARP bulletins about Medicare or stories about Alzheimers and big pharma (I don’t), or warnings not to shovel snow.

There is very little good news or information about how to get old with grace and joy and acceptance. It is assumed those things are in the past.

I am naive, I suppose. I am happy in my life, very much in love, in work I also love,  and filled with hope.

I see every bad and painful opportunity as a chance to do good and recover and overcome. That is what grace is about, it’s not about having a perfect life, which is impossible, but a meaningful life, which is always possible. I am crazy, but I get to recover every day.

There are some difficult things about getting older – something always hurts in the morning – and some wonderful things.

Henri J.M. Nouwen, the theologian, writes that in solitude, we can grow old freely without being preoccupied with our usefulness and  we can offer services we had not planned on.

I know what he means. When we get older, we lose our dependencies on this world, and many of our fears and obligations – father, mother, children, career, success, rewards and recognition,  ambitions, sensitivities and grudges. I feel lighter and freer than I have ever felt.

I take the world seriously, but never too seriously, I have seen too much to do that. \

When you get older, there is almost nothing you haven’t seen or heard once at least once before. It can give you wisdom or make you a cynic. Perspective seeps into the blood, along with some wisdom and detachment. I rarely regret being old, I give thanks almost every day because I am no longer  young.

That was really hard.

Someof my peers are always grumping about how better life was back in the day, and how awful children are today.

Mostly, I smile when I hear that, and I try hard not to be anywhere where I might hear that. For me, the loneliness of aging is that I don’t want to care about our age, our my health, or the price of drugs or the failings of youth. I need to be around people who look ahead, not back. Who have expectations.

That is every generations’ lament – the world was always better, and young kids today don’t know how to live and work.

I suppose one day all the old farts will be right, and Mother Earth will pull the plug on all of us.

I live now in a community of hope, there is less to defend  or yearn for, but much to share and love. It is a rich time for me, The many slights and disappointments that plagued me and kept me awake have slipped away, they just seem silly to me now.

I have work to do and life to life. Last week, I was visiting the soccer team at RISSE and one of the children I was talking to said he was working on an essay for school, and he wanted to write about being ambitious and successful in his new life in America. Could I help him? He knew I was a writer. He wanted to know what I would say.

I sat down in the raucous RISSE  cafeteria, I talked slowly. Aat speaks English well, but he writes slowly, and he was taking notes.

I think you should have the expectation of hope and  joy, not success, I said, not ambition. In America, success is too often a code word for money. Do what you love.

I think you should laugh at yourself, and at life.

I live in a community of hope, we work hard, but are not destroyed by failure. It makes us stronger. We remind ourselves every day that we form a brotherhood and sisterhood of the weak and the vulnerable, visible only to the God we choose to follow and who speaks to the happy and the sad parts of us, and also to the lonely and frightened places in our hearts. 

We tell ourselves every single day: Do not be afraid. You are accepted.

I think we all have our own spirit, our own story, some people call it an aura, some people call it the light. We went to have a hamburger at the Bog last night, it was eerily quiet. Kelly thought people were staying at home because the cold has gone on so long everyone is having to order extra cords of firewood or pay larger than expected heating oil bills.

We will use up our seven cords of firewood by the end of next week, in a normal winter we use five cords, and the temperatures are expected to stay cold at least through next week and possibly beyond.

IFor awhile, Kelly was standing alone behind the bar, and she seemed even more radiant than usual. She said her propane bill would be much higher than last year’s. At the Bog, we feel close to the lives of ordinary working people. We are not rich by any means, but to us, another cord of firewood is not a life-changer.

To many people in rural areas, it is a great big deal, it’s the difference between vacations or no vacations, going out for a beer or staying home, getting the extra cord of firewood (you pay a lot more at the end of winter) or toughing it out.

Kelly’s grace and smile are a fixed point in a dizzying world. I am grateful for my portraits of her, she is one of those people who gives off the light. If I wait too long to put up a photo of Kelly, people get grumpy and send me letters of protest. I have no choice but to get over to the bog, have a scotch on the rocks and a hamburger. And take a portrait of Kelly.

It will never be too cold for that.

Sue is a “realistic baby doll”  recommended for elderly patients with memory disorders. I brought Diane Sue last week, and it was apparently just what she needed to find love and purpose and structure. Yesterday, I went to the Mansion with a bassinet for Sue (I brought some baby clothes yesterday). Diane is wary of taking Sue out of her room, she is afraid she’ll be cold, or perhaps misplaced or stolen.

I saw Diane sitting out by the windows, she said she thought Sue needed to rest, so I brought the bassinet into her room, with her permission, and lay Sue inside. She has blankets and comforters to wear, and diapers to change. The Mansion staff is thrilled with the effect Sue is having on Diane, we are meeting to see if any of the other residents could benefit from a similar doll.

This experiment was highly successful. I brought two activity aprons and they were a bust, none of the residents wanted to use them. We are trying a number of different things in the coming weeks, stay tuned. Diane was very happy to see the bassinet.

The most striking thing about the memory work Joan and I are doing together is how much she loves to do it. Whenever I ask if she wants to   read with me or  talk to me, she just lights up and says emphatically, “I want to do it.” It is hard work for Joan, and sometimes painful, sometimes joyous.

I am learning not to correct her mistakes, or to give her answers. I have to remind myself to do this, as you can see in the video, it goes against every way in which I was taught, and so often made to feel stupid or a failure. I want Joan to feel successful every time we read, every time we talk.

I have been reading up on what the psychologists call “memory sweeps,” a sort of  prompts and questions designed to get people with memory issues to “sweep” back into their lives and search for memories of things they love and cared about.

I found that any mention of Joan’s grandmothers elicits smiles, enthusiasm and happiness. Some subjects  trigger pain (her daughter was killed when she was young), I don’t wish to trigger that.

I know now which subjects open Joan up and which don’t. I know that I am not a miracle worker or a genie, I can’t bring her memory back. But I also know that I can bring some of it back some of the time, and  her memories are rich and detailed and often loving. It makes her feel good to do this work, it gives her pride and dignity, she feels very successful at it.

When I come into the Mansion, she always finds me, hugs me, follows me, she never asks to do this work, she always is eager to do this work, and Joan is quick to say no to things she does not want to do.

Our work is never private, there is really no private space at the Mansion, people are always walking in on us, asking what we are doing, talking loudly in the background. There is always noise and distraction.

It doesn’t matter. I have learned to focus right through it.

But Joan is so engaged in this work, so eager, that this never bothers or deters us. It is beautiful work and important work, and I have seen a marked change in Joan since we began our talking and memory work. I am happy to share this remarkable adventure.

If you wish to support my Mansion work, you can send  your contribution to The Gus Fund, c/o Jon Katz, P.O. Box 205,  Cambridge, N.Y., 12816, or to me via Paypal, [email protected]. And thank you, the Army Of Good, you have made this work possible, you are the wind at my back.

If you wish to send a card or photo or message to Joan, you can write to Joan, c/o The Mansion, 11 S. Union Avenue, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.

She loves photos.

Come and see Joan’s search for life.

 

Good news for the Army Of Good, Juliie Harlin, the Mansion Activities Director, has posted the new Mansion Amazon Wish List so that we can help the Mansion residents inexpensively and choose what we wish to send them.

I proposed this to RISSE, the refugee immigrant program in Albany, and they have embraced the idea vigorously and received more than $10,000 in gifts from their wish list.

The RISSE wish list has been a great success. We have transformed the after school program there and support the soccer team and the girl’s basketball team.

As many of you know, this Mansion wish list is a radical and innovative new  way in my mind for the Army Of Good to support the Mansion residents in a way that is empowering for the donors. It will be regularly updated by Julie, who knows as much as anyone what the residents need to support their activities.

You choose what you want to donate from the list (make sure the address on your checkout page is 11 S. Union Avenue, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816, thanks). The Activity Room in the Mansion is the heartbeat of the place during the day, that is where the residents gather to be with one another, watch TV, talk to each other and participate in the many activities Julie and others organize.

These activities are often the only companionship and stimulation the residents get. They are important.

I will continue to support the residents in their personal  lives – meeting some of their private needs such as clothing, reading materials, stuffed animals and dolls, flowers and things for their rooms. I scour thrift shops for pants and shirts, bras and underwear. I also support outings like boat rides, lunches, special reading programs,  trips to animal parks.

Those kinds of things are not on the wish lists.

The gifts include Sombreros for skits, mind games, puzzles, indoor gardening tables, there are items as low as $6 and some for $99. I know there are many demands on your money, but I hope the Mansion Wish List will feature in your plans for doing good.

You can support my work by sending your donations to The Gus Fund, c/o Jon Katz, P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816, or via Paypal, [email protected]. I am very happy that this idea for giving to the vulnerable is catching on.

I see the wish lists as bringing balance to our support for the Mansion residents.  This broadens and deepens our work.

You choose the gift, how much you want to spend, I warn you it can become a habit. None of the money goes to administrative or any other costs beyond the gift itself.

You can go on the wish list anytime to send a needed gift to the residents, I will continue to photograph and write about how the residents are using them. These recreational gifts and supplies are loved by the residents, who crave stimulation as much as anything.

Check out the wish list and thanks for your support. This opens up yet another chapter for the Army Of Good, I believe we are pioneering new ways to help the vulnerable inexpensively but effectively. I believe in small acts of great kindness, and I believe in doing good rather than arguing about what good is.

Check out the Wish List here.