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Army of Good
9 January

Monday Morning: An Important Week. Health Checks, Meditation Classes, Leg Braces, Art Classes, Refugees And People At The Edge Of Liffe

by Jon Katz

It’s Monday morning, and I want to start the week off with color, especially as half of the country is mired in rain and wind instead of the usual fires and drought. While our leaders feed their egos, our fellow Americans are losing their homes, savings, and wells. I promised to be a place of safety and affirmation, and I’m sticking to it.

Today is a pretty big medical day for me. I’m seeing Amy, my primary care nurse practitioner, a week after my cancer scare; hopefully, I can put that behind me.

Usually, I go to the doctor alone, but Maria comes when she thinks it’s important. She’s coming today. She doesn’t like me driving when distracted.

The rest of the afternoon will be taken up making a cast for a new orthotic brace for m ever flattening left foot, the demon behind my callouses, and the resulting ulceration and stubborn wound.

Not an especially dignified medical issue, but life makes its own choices. This morning, Amy will be giving me my regular check-up and exam. Tomorrow, I go to have my regular foo checkup, all is looking well, but I often can’t really tell.

My brace will cost $1 500; my insurance will cover most of it. If this works, I can resume my walks around the farm and the town. This is not a site about my getting older or my health care,  but about my life, and I suppose aging and the health care equation are a part of that.

As promised, I share almost everything, that, to me, is what makes the blog different from most other blogs. For me, life is about learning, adapting and moving forward – always. I do not speak poorly of my life or lament my getting older.

Every chapter is a new chapter and a new opportunity. Getting older, like life itself, is a serious string of gifts and challenges. Grace is how I deal with it.

Sometimes, I think I’m having trouble keeping up with my body. But then I take some deep breaths and get on with it. Shame on anyone who tells their children or grandchildren not to get old.

 

 

I’m forever marveling at the opportunities and complexities of aging. I understand that at age 75, I’m entering a new dimension, a new chapter of my life. Maria (bless her) and I talk about this often; we don’t run and hide from it. I am at ease now about Maria taking good care of herself if I move along first. She is strong, brave, and very creative.

Getting old is a kind of chess for me. My body makes a move; I make a move. I’m told my body will one day betray me, but so far I’m nothing but grateful for my body hanging in there with me, despite two chronic diseases. I see that Covid was a real punch to me and a kind of setback. I think it is finally going away.

I am certain now that the vaccine and boosters saved my life.

She will take good care of herself. I’ve even arranged for the blogs to be merged into one if and when I die.

I don’t expect to die any time soon; I’m learning to take good care of myself, listen to my doctors and be active, focused, and ambitious about my work. Maria and I are having a wonderful life together; I’m always surprised and delighted by what I can do and what we can do together.

Discovering good music from the Caffe Lena Streaming TV has brought the music we love in life and right into our living rooms.  This is a godsend in January.

When Spring comes, I look forward to going there in person.

In the meantime, I’m focused on getting my brace into place and concentrating on staying healthy, engaged, and active. The cancer scare reminded me to be grateful for what I have, not what I lost.

Sometimes, the healthcare stuff gets me low, which is neither unexpected nor constant.  I’m in a contemplative mood now; I have to resent the way I look at things in my life; I’ve learned that facing mortality openly with a good and positive heart prolongs life; it doesn’t shorten it.

I have a good life. I mean to have a good life, and I have something to say about how that does.

 

After the medical stuff, I’ll teach a meditation class on the Mansion on Friday; the Flu epidemic is over. Thursday, I hope to get to Bishop Gibbons to see how Sue Silverstein’s revolution is going.

Thanks for supporting Baby J. From the messages I’m getting, a number of you are planning to send clothes to this female infant who needs every kind of baby clothes. Her size is 24 months (yes, that is a size for infants)). The child belongs to a former Bishop Maginn student who I know and wrote about.

Baby J needs sleepers, socks, coats, dresses, mittens, hats, boots, sweatsuits, onesies, and sweaters. Used clothes that are clean and in good shape are welcome, and so are new ones. Sue Silverstein has asked that the clothes be sent directly to her at Sue Silverstein,  Bishop Gibbons High School, 2600 Albany Street, Schenectady, N.Y., 12304.

Sue will bring them to the mother.

Several people have asked if they could send money directly to me or Sue me.  I think it isn’t necessary for money to go to me at this point, I expect Sue will be flooded with clothes within a day or two, and I don’t want to waste anyone’s money.

Sending Sue money is problematic.

She will need to follow school protocol and send the money to the Catholic Diocese. And she will also have to go out and buy clothes. I know how busy Sue is, and I know she’d do it. I’d also like to spare her that paperwork and additional work. Sue never says no to anything, but I see how hard she is working and it sometimes scares me.

As it stands, the clothes will go directly to her, and she will get them quickly over to the mother. Thanks for your support and understanding. Remember: 24 months is a size. Thank you, thank you.

I see that people love buying baby clothes. If there is a problem, I’ll happily offer to buy the clothes myself – I’ve done it hundreds of times – but I’m hoping and thinking it won’t be necessary to do that. As always, I am grateful to the Army Of Good. It is good.

I’ll be blogging when I can.

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The Spiritual Life
9 December

Spiritual Refugees. Getting Our Brains Unwashed

by Jon Katz

A man who lives in the nearby town of Salem emailed me and asked if he could come by the farmhouse and drop off some mittens for the Mansion residents; his name is Don, and he read on my blog that they needed mittens and paint canvases.

He had some of those to bring.

He wasn’t planning on seeing me, but I was outside getting the mail when he pulled up.

I introduced myself, and we started talking. I’ve never lost the reporter instinct for pulling a story out of people, and I had this sixth sense that he had a good one.

He told me he moved to Salem shortly after the pandemic eased. He was a doctor in New York City, and the pandemic had exhausted and burned him out.

He did save a lot of lives, and he did see a lot of deaths.

The experience transformed him. He left his practice, left New York, bought an old farmhouse, and moved upstate to the country.

He was burning out as a doctor before and after the worst days of the pandemic.

Long hours, pressure and tension, insurance companies and pharmaceuticals, angry and paranoid patients, conspiracy theories and politics,  the crushing patient load kept him from getting to know his patients.

“Ironically,” he said, “working in those hospitals during the pandemic was the best time I ever had as a doctor. It was grueling and wrenching, but you can be a doctor as you hoped and wanted to be in a crisis. I mattered.”

I realized I was talking to a member of my tribe; I call them the Spiritual Refugees, people who choose to live outside that pressure of living for money or power.

These are people with dreams and passions who find themselves outsiders,  refugees in the land of the Corporate Nation, the global economy, the bottom-line world, a world of greed, insecurity, instability, and fear.

There is little room for spirituality in this kingdom. It is rarely in the news, pushed to the very edges of our lives.

“It’s straightforward,” Don said. “I became a doctor because I wanted to help people. Now I am. I’m doing what I was meant to do.” He is helping the neediest and most vulnerable.

Spiritual Refugees, like everyone else,  are taught from birth to seek an identity with power, status, and money, but rarely about how to live life in a meaningful and satisfying way.

They reject that life and seek to build a different one, which leaves them outsiders in a vast system that pushes spirituality, generosity, empathy, and compassion aside.

Don had done everything he was taught to do – worked hard, got into Yale, paid off $150,000 in student debt, bought a big house and a boat, and socked money away for retirement. He was considered a great success.

The pandemic woke him up somewhat brutally.

He decided to abandon what he had been taught to want and fear and instead live the life he wanted.

Now, he visits nursing homes and homes for the emotionally and intellectually, and physically disabled and sings songs to them with his guitar, and helps out when there are minor medical problems.

There is little money to pay him well, or sometimes, at all.

Our society does not value people like Don because there is no money, boats, big houses, or fat IRAs in the world of the giving. Healthcare and social workers are among the lowest-paid people in America.

Many make less than McDonald’s workers.

But if you hang around them long enough, you will find they are most often happy in their work and lives.

Following my calling was the best and most spiritual decision I ever made.

Don paid off those loans), and has nothing left in his IRA, and he and his wife have never been happier. They spend precious time together and with their daughter, an only child.

He and I got to talking, and I offered my theory that perhaps it is only age that teaches that “success,” as we have been taught, only goes so far and not very high. It seemed to me that the more successful I got, the poorer the quality of my life.

He and I shared the same experience.

Helping people makes us happy.

Success is a double-edged sword, Don agreed. We all want it, but we don’t always know what to do with it, and it doesn’t lift the heart the way it’s supposed to.

I wonder if age is the only natural antidote to the personal destruction of the lives we are taught to live. The news teaches us all that anger, hatred, dysfunction, and disconnection every day.

We can reflect on our lives and think about them as we age. We have a perspective that comes with age.

We recognize the finite nature of time and realize what we were never taught –  that we don’t live forever, and time is running out if we wish to live the lives we want.

I call our obsessions and flaws the “bad genes”  – anger, hatred, envy, pride –  they seem to subside to the point where we can see what we are and want to be.

It was almost too late for me; the train was getting ready to leave the station.

I wanted to be religious in a nonconventional way, not through dogma and tradition, but through a spiritual prism.

Don and I both discovered that the life we were taught to live was theirs, not ours. Our society is now almost spiritual. Hatred and lies, and greed have become a faith.

“Good luck, brother,” I said to Don, “you are living your life.”

We shook hands. I patted him on the shoulder. I may never see Don again; we made no plans for lunch, although we exchanged emails.

We both agreed that if we ever felt the need, we should reach out to the other. He’s someone I wouldn’t hesitate to call.

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Photo Journal
14 October

Heart Lifting Photo Journal, October 14, 2022: Last Bouquets, A Very Good Day, Incredible Smiles, Sweet Flowers, Refugees Have Jackets, Dog Support Is Working, Fall Is Gorgeous, Life Is Good

by Jon Katz

This is turning into a super day. I woke up a little down over another round of foot trouble, and all from Apple Picking. But Maria and I decided to go outside and make our last bouquets of the season – it’s supposed to get very cold here next week, and we have been warned that most outside plants will die.

But I can’t complain about today. My creative writing student Killian sent me a new version of his very fine horror story, which I will publish once it’s done; Ian McRae,  ready for his first poetry reading, already one of my favorite poets, sent me a beautiful poem about life in Granville, N.Y., and three lovely dog people signed up for my Dog Support program.

It’s coming into place; the message is to go slow, be thoughtful, don’t quit, and be humble.

This one is going to work; I can smell it. If only I could figure out Zoom.  I love helping people with their dogs, and now I might even get paid for it.

This makes me feel good.

Boxes of old jewelry, metal objects, winter clothes, and boots flowing into Bishop Gibbons. Maria just sold another quilt before she even finished it.

There is a ring of good all around me.

A few days ago, all the leaves for miles around began to turn, and this is one of the most beautiful autumns ever.

Our backyard.

Bud At Rest always brings a smile to my face. He’s been barking at a hawk all weekend (be careful Bud) and as worn himself out.

 

When the sun came out, Maria and I came outside to put together our three final season bouquets – a rough cold wave is coming Monday. One goes to a friend who lost her husband, another goes to an immigrant farm family, and the third comes inside the house. Some fall flowers are still growing and will perhaps service, but most of our flowers will be gone. I love that woman so much; I’ve never seen a smile like that. I also stopped to visit with the Amish girls, and that was sweet and fun. I won two rounds of thumb wrestling (yesterday, Delilah beat me twice.)

Our friend Alflredal has a sweet smile, just as Maria does. Talk about lifting the spirits. Alfreda loves flowers; we always pick some for her. She came by to get some of the last ones of the summer.

This afternoon, we’re both going to get our new Covid booster shots, and afterward, we’ll run out to  “A Little Paris” for some dinner crepes. I’m buying Maria a dessert crepe also. With the weekend visit of Emma and Robin and the trouble with my foot, I haven’t been working much on my ukelele. I’ll get to it tonight.

There’s also a new season of Reservation Dogs on Hulu. I love that show. Thanks for your support and encouragement of Dog Support. If you need help with your dog, e-mail me at [email protected]. $50 for the first half hour; I will keep in touch for free.

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18 May

ARMY OF GOOD: Welcome Books For Refugees From Maine. We Love, We Care, We Help.

by Jon Katz

The Army Of Good never fails to surprise me or lift me and others. Today, two big boxes of books from a welcome immigrant program in Maine –  Neighbors In Books – arrived at Bishop Maginn, sent by AOG member Aldona Shumway.

I couldn’t begin to describe how our unofficial but mighty group has helped the refugees and immigrants coming to America, a much more complex and sometimes hostile country than they imagined.

We have shown hundreds of people and scores of families the true heart of America – we love, care, and help.

Thanks, Aldona, for your great heart and good work.

These books are already being distributed and will encourage reading, trust, and community.  They make a huge difference. Last week we brought a carload of prom dresses; next Tuesday, I’m getting a giant jewelry box purchased in thrift stores. Some beautiful stuff.

We donated $7,000 for a goodbye prom to Bishop Maginn as a community. The school is closing, but the refugee program isn’t – we’re going to a new school with Sue Silverstein and the refugees at Bishop Maginn.

Thanks, much, to Aldona and all of you good people. We have done a lot, we have a lot to do. This is what life is about.

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19 November

The Most Help Ever For Refugees: Thanks To The Good People Out There, The Real Americans

by Jon Katz

I got this message tonight from Sue Silverstein, a teacher at Bishop Maginn High School who has coordinated the support for the Afghan Refugees in Albany, and the refugee families that have been a part of the Bishop Maginn Community for some time.

She gave me permission to reprint it here. We have been working together on the Thanksgiving Baskets now being distributed for families who wish to have their own Thanksgiving Dinner.

“I ended up getting a lot more food from local people the last few days and have made nearly 60 bags! Refugees, alumni, current families, a couple of grandparents caring for children have all been cared for this Thanksgiving so thank you!. It’s the largest amount of help I’ve ever been able to provide for Thanksgiving.”

I’d like to add my own thanks to the big-hearted people we call the Army Of Good. To me, they are the heart and soul of the true America. They are also faithful heirs to the message of Jesus Christ, no mater what their religious beliefs are.

I am not a Christian, but I hear the call to care for the needy and vulnerable,  it lifts my heart to know I am far from alone. We are not only helpling and feeding these needy we  people, are helping them to see the genuine America, whose heart and soul beat proudly amidst the storm.

Thank you.

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