I'll take your Nixon and raise you a Roosevelt!

Today at the Ridge we served lunch as usual, but set up a borrowed big-screen TV in the dining room so the residents (and staff) could watch the historic inaugaration of our 44th president. As we listened to the oaths and speeches, I was uncertain what to expect. It is no secret these elders are from an era where equality was unheard of and prejudices were not only accepted, but expected.

But as I looked around the room at wrinkled face after wrinkled face cupping their hands to their ears so as to hear every word spoken by our new president, I could tell none of that mattered. They were proud. Proud to live in a country where anything is possible, and proud to have lived so long to have witnessed not just this historic event, but so many others that came before it.

Our oldest resident was born during President Roosevelt's second term. TEDDY Roosevelt's second term. Isn't that just incredible?!? My grandmother (who also happens to be a resident at Rock Ridge...I'm so blessed) witnessed her 17th presidential inaugaration today, with the first being Woodrow Wilson's. Just think of the life experience they have! Although I live with the wisdom and experiences (and shenanigans!) of these seniors every day, I rarely take the opportunity to reflect on that. I'm grateful I was able to today. (It also made me feel like an infant that Nixon was president when I was born. Seriously. How does he compare to TEDDY frickin' ROOSEVELT!?!)

And just to prove my concern of intolerance was way off the mark, one 94-year-old sweetheart leaned over toward me as she gazed at President Obama on the big screen and said "He sure is a handsome man, isn't he?"

Lazy Sunday

It was a very busy week. Between giving lots of extra Christmas love to the residents (very sad time of the year for so many) and all the blessed family and friend gatherings, I'm just tired. Today, we have no where to be but home. Today, it is 3:49 p.m. and I am still wearing my pajamas. Today, I am not cooking. Today is wonderful.

Today, I am also thinking about next year. So cliche, but how can one help it? I need a new calendar. It's time to start a new running log. What better time to meditate on self improvements than when you're flipping through the pages of how you spent the last year of your life? I have so many personal growth opportunities. I'm tempted to make a list. Write out goals. Put my intentions on paper. But how exactly can you mark something like "stay in the moment" off of a list? So, no list....just hopes.

I hope that every day I remember how important it is to learn something new. I hope that I will remember to keep that elusive attitude of gratitude. I hope I remember not to complain. I hope that I will always remember to laugh (mostly at myself). I hope I remember how unproductive it is to feel sorry for myself. And mostly, I hope that if I don't remember these things one day...that I will simply forgive myself instead of wasting energy being mad or sad. Breathe in, breathe out, and move on. And remember to remember the next day.

Oh yeah, and I also plan to run a lot of miles and hug a lot of old people.

Peace.

Waxing Philosophical

This place is insanely busy and I'm frazzled. The phone rang no less than 589 times today. No fewer than 37 people barged into my office needing something right away. I have at least 54 projects all in semi-states of completion. Oh, and I'm leaving for Portland on Thursday.

So, finding myself at the point where tolerating any further human contact might cause someone actual injury, I closed my door for a little while to work on the October newsletter. (What?? Today is the last day of September?? ALREADY?) I sat down to write the normal age-appropriate articles, like how to dispose of old medications and who has Depends on sale. Instead, after about twenty minutes I looked at my computer screen and it said this:


I love autumn in the Midwest. The colors are beautiful, the nights are cool, and everything smells good. Another thing I love about autumn is marathon season! For the past three years, Assistant and I have ran a fall marathon. This year, we ran the Air Force Marathon in Dayton, Ohio. We both heartily agree it was the hardest marathon (actually, the hardest anything!) either of us has ever experienced.
After months of preparation and expending vast amounts of energy—physical, mental, and emotional—I’ve decided there is obviously something about running 26.2 miles that reveals a metaphor for life. It’s long. It’s grueling. It hurts. Sometimes it’s really, really hard. As in life, you’re surrounded by a lot of people focusing on the same goal, and as the miles drag out you realize you have the choice of giving up or pushing on -- usually at a time when neither option sounds all that good. The pay-off for pushing on, though, is unbelievable. It is a huge thrill topped of with a great sense of achievement. Again, as in life.

The last six miles of that marathon were unbelievably hard, but there were hundreds of people around us to help us through, cheering us on with their kind words. We all need encouragement, and by surrounding ourselves with those who support us and push us toward our dreams, we’ll all get the medal at the end of the race.

I love learning opportunities, but today I think I actually got one from myself. Forget frazzled and stressed and not having enough hours in the day. It's ok to slow down a bit. As long as I keep going, I'll still get the medal.

Perpetual Optimism

Do you know that if you really believe something is going to happen...it actually will!?! Have you ever noticed that it seems like happy and optimistic people have better luck?

I think I can...the universal law of attraction... getting back what you put out...positive thinking. It's all the same. And it really, truly, works. Wow.

Aiding and Abetting

Evidently I'm taking care of a foreign national by letting him live in the attic here at Rock Ridge. He comes down in the evenings to eat, but otherwise just stays in the attic. Sometimes the Resident can hear him bumping around up there.

The resident told the daughter that I'm too nice to tell this person he can't stay in the attic, but the resident just doesn't think it's right to be hiding a foreigner in "today's day and age." And that is why the resident told the daughter. And why the daughter called me. And why I love my job today!

Tuesday Ramblings

I have found that opportunities to really ponder life, relationships, people (or just being!) are abundant when you work with the elderly. I'm so grateful that I am aware of these opportunities so much more than I used to be. I don't know if working with seniors has made me more sensitive to this, or maybe it is maturity? I don't ever remember thinking "I wonder why she feels that way" while someone was totally chewing me up and spitting me out into little bits when I was in my 20s. I was more like "Shut up, you're an ugly butt-munch. You're mom had to tie a pork chop around your neck so the dog would play with you." Anyway, I like that I can view things with a little different perspective than I used to.

So when one person loudly gripes that "this soup is too hot to eat" and the person at the very next table eating the very same soup served at the very same time complains about the soup being too cold, the first thing to fall out of my mouth isn't an insult (if you'd wear your teeth to dinner you could order something besides soup) or defensiveness (Do you think I made the stupid soup? Do you have any idea how hard it is to please fifty different people!?) While those things *usually* don't make it past my lips, I do have to admit that sometimes I still think them. I have so many growth opportunities!!

Leaving the insults behind, what I try to do instead is think about what the real problem might be. Because it really never is about the damn soup. It's about having to give up a driver's license after 70 years of driving. It's about arthritis that hurts so much it is impossible to button a shirt. It is being too proud to ask for help buttoning a shirt. It's about having just lost your spouse of over sixty years. It's about facing your own mortality. It's about dealing with end-of-life issues.

I think it would be a lot easier to bitch about the soup, too.

You Just Never Know

"Each contact with a human being is so rare, so precious, one should preserve it."
~Anais Nin

This guy shows up here and is interested in an apartment for his father. He seems familiar, somehow, but I can't put my finger on it. After a long conversation he told me that they had been here over a year ago, but at that time it wasn't the right fit for his parents. His mom has since died, and now Dad needs a place to live. The reason he came back? Because Rock Ridge "felt good." He remembers how positive and happy the staff seemed, and said how nice and understanding I was when he came to ask for his parents' deposit back.

So I've been sitting here thinking, what if I had been having a bad day and didn't come off as nice or understanding? He wouldn't have come back! It's incredible to me how a five-minute interaction with someone can resurface over a year later. An encounter I couldn't even remember left an impression. Wow.

A similar thing happened several years ago. I was at the mall and this couple with a child kept looking at me like they knew me. Finally the husband approached me and asked if I used to work at the hospital. I told him I did. He said, "we thought that was you! We were there for an ultrasound and you registered us. We were scared to death because the doctor thought there might be a problem with the baby, and you were so nice to us. You told us you would pray for us."

I did not remember these people. I did not remember the discourse with them. But they remembered a simple conversation that made them feel a little better that day.

You just never know when what you say or do might affect someone in a postive way. This is my reminder today that every interaction I have is important. If I don't feel good or am not having a good day or I'm stressed because I have so much to do that is no excuse to not still be friendly and positive. Because maybe five years later a couple will walk up to you out of the blue and want to introduce you to their beautiful, perfect son. Or maybe a son who just lost his mother will know that his Dad will be loved and cared for...just because he had a good feeling when he talked to you. You just never know.

Depth of Perception

I had to read Angels and Insects by A S Byatt for a class once. I didn't really love the book, but a short story within the story about Morpho Eugenia has a fairy who says "things are not what they seem" over and over. (I hope I've remembered this right, I'm not taking the time to google it) Anyway, there have been so many times that I have thought about that quote. It's really not a new concept, just said a little differently. It is no different than "perception vs. reality" or soothing someone's hurt feelings by saying "they really didn't mean it that way."



Working in a place with so many different personalities is an unbelievable life experience. I've had the opportunity to learn so much, and so much of it has to do with perception. A person's perception is their reality!! Regardless of whether it is your perceived reality, actual reality (whatever that is), or even in the same zip code as reality...it is still THEIR reality. They live with the fears or sadness or dissatisfaction caused by their own perceptions. And no million minutes of talking with them and trying to get them to see the other side of the coin will change it. It's incredible how strong the feelings are that come with someone's perception...and equally incredible how far off target they can be.

My hope as I go through life is to remain open-minded to the fact that my perception may not always be reality. To always have the awareness that any situation can have many different interpretations. And to always be the person who (gently) tries to help the other see that there could be other possibilities, there is always a different way to look at things, there is always another reality. And like the fairy in the Byatt book said: Things, indeed, are often not what they seem.