Family and Friends Archives - Page 5 of 31

caregiving/Death and Dying/End-of-Life/Family and Friends/friendships/General interest/geriatrics/Lifestyle/Optimism Collection/seniors/USA/Women

September 21, 2016October 20, 2021

Loss, Love and Loyalty

by Fran Johns

Several decades ago a close friend of mine lost her only son in a senseless, tragic accident. He was in his late teens, on his motorcycle, on his way to work at a part-time Christmas season job. All of which added to the unspeakable sadness: a promising life cut short amidst the merriment of a season of joy.

Her friends gathered around to do what we could. We brought food, made lists of callers, tried to keep track of daily needs. My friend’s daughter, a best friend of my own daughter, suddenly found herself the middle child of three girls, all bereft of the one brother they had so loved.

In the large, shifting, changing, sorrowing group of those who came to the house were a number of young men also in their late teens who had been friends of the one now gone from their midst. They said to the bereaved parents, “We’ll always be here for you. We’ll always remember Mark, and represent him in your lives.” The kind of thing people often say at such times.

These were teenagers. Ordinary kids starting out in life – who had been in their own share of ordinary teenage mischief. In the ensuing years they had their own share of ups and downs. But as it turned out, they were true to their word. They were there for Mark’s parents at Christmas and New Year’s, graduations he would have shared, special times he would have been a part of.

Time passed, Mark’s friends matured as his parents (and this writer) aged.

Recently, Mark’s father died. I happened to be back in town at the time – though like many of those young people I had gone on to life elsewhere – and was happy to be able to be with my old friend and her daughters at his memorial service. It was a bittersweet time: he had lived a full and honorable life; old friends had come to celebrate that life and talk of the good times we had shared. My daughter, still best friends with Mark’s sister although they live on opposite coasts, was there with me.

As I looked around the gathering after the service I slowly began to recognize middle-aged men I had known all those years ago. Several had married women I recognized — also from all those years ago. They were now telling stories of their own children who are starting college or launching their own new lives. They were Mark’s representatives. The stand-ins for their long-ago friend whose memory they would not let die, whose presence they would certify to the mother who lost him so long ago.

How to make sense of it all, young life cut short, long life come full circle? How, indeed, to make sense of life and death and loss and continuity?

Mark’s friends, I think, help answer those questions. Out of loss and tragedy come love and loyalty. Out of singular death comes communal life. Out of anguished sadness comes humanity. We all come and go, but we’re all in it together. For a few years or a few decades – but together.

caregiving/Death and Dying/End-of-Life/General interest/Health/Healthcare/Medicine/San Francisco/seniors

September 14, 2016October 7, 2021

Caregiving and the fight-flight-freeze response

by Fran Johns

Fight, flight or freeze. Those are the three traditional options we humans have when confronted with dangerous or overwhelming situations. Judy Long suggests a fourth: challenge. For caregivers whose stress levels often keep them on a high-fight-or-flight alert, this new option can come as good news.

Long spoke recently on Caregiver Resilience and Well-Being: Sustainable Caregiving at a meeting in San Francisco. “The ‘challenge’ response,” she told members of the San Francisco Bay Area Network for End of Life Care, “can actually have biological benefits. When you can look at (your stress) as excitement you can actually perform better.”

Judy Long, who is currently Palliative Care Chaplain in the Department of Neuropathy at the University of California San Francisco, has an extensive list of credentials in things like Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction and Mindful Self-Compassion – the academics underlying today’s insights into the caregiving business. And for those in the trenches of caregiving, small suggestions can offer big help.

“Sustainable caregiving,” Long says, involves “all of the things we do for ourselves when we’re involved with caregiving. I know how exhausting it can be. But we can all be doing things that have great meaning, that are nurturing and nourishing for ourselves.”

Long tells of completing her chaplaincy training, which included a year of training at the University of California San Francisco. One year later, she says, she was asked to take on a six-month chaplaincy at UCSF – assigned to the neonatal intensive care unit, commonly referred to as NICU. “I wondered how to keep myself centered in all that terrible suffering.” The patients in NICU are mostly premature or very sick hands-with-hearts infants, lying in “isolettes.” While extraordinary progress has been made, and continues to be made, with successful treatments, having a newborn in NICU is stressful for parents, and many infants die. It falls to the chaplain, much of the time, to tell a parent his or her baby will not survive, or will have permanent damage. “I found out I was okay with that,” Long says, partly for having had some time in between training and actual chaplaincy work in a difficult setting.

“I’m a pragmatist,” Long says; “I always ask what works.” She was determined not to fall into the trap of many caregivers: “overwhelm, shutting myself off from caring by building an armor. Caregiving also points back to ourselves.”

Long credits one of her teachers and mentors, Roshi Joan Halifax of the Upaya Zen Center in Santa Fe, NM, with offering guidelines she uses to guard against the common pitfalls of isolation – “there are a lot of opportunities to be isolated while trying to do good” – and the sense of helplessness. “I call them my three points: purpose, connection and control.”

Long’s audience at the recent meeting included many who have chosen, as Long herself has, a career path in the caregiving field. It also included three older women, among whom is this writer, who are fulltime caregivers for their husbands: one with peripheral neuropathy, one with both cancer and progressive memory loss and one with Parkinson’s disease. For the family caregiver, purpose and connection are clear. But control? An elusive element at best.

Which brings us back to the fight-flight-freeze business. Challenge may still be an option.

Family and Friends/General interest/San Francisco/Travel/USA

August 13, 2016

Surviving Times of Chaos

by Fran Johns

Plane & streak

Face it, recent days were not a good time to be flying Delta Airlines. Bless its corporate heart, Delta was not really at fault when lightning struck the mothership computer – or whatever the heck happened that grounded flights all over the globe August 8^th. But those of us hoping to get from Point A to Point B in the ensuing days had an adventuresome time of it.

It was an adventure of spontaneity and low expectations. That is, if you can live in the moment, and not expect too much of it, the next moment might see you advancing toward the goal. Sort of like trying to go from Mediterranean Avenue to Boardwalk with a couple of wild rolls of the dice, but without a Get Out of Jail Free card.

In my case, the goal was San Francisco, and I was rolling the dice in Atlanta. Initially, all seemed well. Repeated assurances that my 10:44 AM flight would be leaving on time plus receipt of my Confirmation Number and boarding pass led me to pack my bag and go to sleep with a happy heart. At 2:59 AM though – I learned a little later; I was not watching my phone for text messages at 2:59 AM – the digital gremlins who ruled the world for a while there decided to cancel my nonstop flight and re-book me on a 7:30 PM flight to Detroit with an eventual connection that would get me home to San Francisco around, oh, 3 AM with any luck. Not really great news. Airport crowd 8.10.16

Unlike the probable majority of discombobulated Delta passengers, I had an ace in the hole: an American Airlines pilot son. In the midst of the Delta chaos, this was better than two hotels on Boardwalk. Although he was somewhere between Miami and San Juan, Puerto Rico on another plane himself, he was able to get me onto a flight to Dallas and subsequently thence to San Francisco in time for dinner.

The stories swirling around all those terminals, in all those airports throughout all that time could fill a bunch of books.

There was the woman in a tan polka-dot dress who spoke an unrecognizable language – something not quite Spanish – and no English. In the time she and I shared a waiting area at Gate A-17 at least three different passengers responded to her bewilderment in mysterious tongues, in attempts to help or understand. Yours truly tried pointing to our respective boarding passes (for cancelled flights) but was of zero help. An agent, one hopes and believes, eventually materialized and got her onto a plane flying in the right direction.

There was a mother with two small children and a baby in an over-the-shoulder baby-carrier who said, into her phone, “I couldn’t have left it at the hotel! It has to be in the car!” Oh please, I thought, let it be in the car where presumably her husband can find it and all will be well.

And there were more than a few snippets of conversation, as I was passing by: “yesterday… I know, but I couldn’t get there…” or “we need to postpone it to tomorrow, or Friday…” Postponement was the order of the day.

What was missing, in the stories of frustration and anxiety I overheard, was this: anger. Anger was probably very much present in the first chaotic day or two. But as the global chaos settled down I was reminded of another time of airport chaos.

Home sweet home from the plane's window — Home sweet home from the plane’s window

It was a flight from San Francisco to Portland on September 14, 2001, on either the first or second day that commercial flights were back in the air after 9/11. Lines waiting to go through security stretched the length of the terminal, and moved at a snail’s pace. But the mood was all kindness and tolerance. We shared stories about friends lost or stranded, or about our own fortunes. We held places in line for people who needed a bathroom break, we brought each other lattes.

Delta’s momentary blip is in no way comparable to the tragedy of 9/11, and this writer saw only a tiny blip of the aftermath. But it is somehow reassuring to believe that the human spirit can survive small inconvenience as well as major chaos – with a little patience, grace and kindness. Considering the major chaos of these days, especially between now and election day, we’re going to need a lot of all three.

Children/Family and Friends/General interest/USA/World Affairs

June 19, 2016June 20, 2016

I . . Am . . The Refugee

by Fran Johns

Refugees are human beings

“If I’d been caught,” she said quietly, “I would have been sent back to North Korea where I would have faced prison, or possibly execution.” She had escaped into China, only to find that refugees were not exactly welcome there. “My parents (who had helped her, and a brother, escape) told the government that my brother and I were dead. For several years, they were closely watched because the government didn’t believe them, but it is somewhat better now.”

The young woman with a shy smile spoke through an interpreter at an event at Calvary Presbyterian Church, in recognition of World Refugee Day – which you may have missed, in the tsunami of news/tweets/rumors about suffering refugees, undesirable immigrants and assorted boundary walls and fences.

The young woman speaker eventually made it to Thailand, and from there to the U.S. where nonprofits such as the International Rescue Committee and Refugee Transitions are helping her piece together a life. It took her seven years. She does not expect ever to see her parents again. We were asked not to take pictures, to protect her.

At a later event on the same day another young woman spoke. Her English was immeasurably better than my Pashto or Dari would be if I studied really hard for the next 10 years. Born in 1992 into an educated Afghan family, she repeatedly cited having educated parents as setting her apart. Most Afghan women of her generation (as with other generations) face a life strictly limited to the confines of the family home. But by the time she was five, the Taliban had taken over and educating girls was forbidden. In her city there was one underground school where girls could learn to read and write, and she and her parents decided to risk it. During regular government inspections the children would hide textbooks in garbage cans. But she survived, and received a rudimentary education that was greatly expanded after 2011 when the U.S. entered Afghanistan. (“In our prayers, we gave thanks for the Americans,” she said. That was surprising, and gratifying, to this American reporter.) She came to the U.S. on a student visa several years ago. By the time she graduated it was clear that she could not return to her country – which has known nothing but war for forty years – to help young women and girls as her hopes and plans had been. So she became a refugee. A refugee is, by definition, “a person who has been forced to leave his or her country in order to escape war, famine, persecution or natural disaster.”

“So many things are hard,” the young woman from Afghanistan says. “For instance, pronunciation. You want to renew your ‘weesa,’ and they don’t know what you’re saying because it’s ‘visa.’” Other things are harder still. Because she was on a student visa, she could not work. After graduation she “couch-hopped,” staying wherever she could, “because the only people I knew were my professors and my classmates.” She has now applied for asylum — a process that also prohibits working for at least 150 days. She was fortunate to find a family who has taken her in, and she hopes to make a life in the U.S.

For many in the audience, it was hard to imagine the endless bureaucratic mazes refugees encounter and patiently endure — possibly because they often come from countries where government bureaucracy is a daily fact of life. It was even harder to imagine spending two or three years of one’s life (a minimum) or well over a decade (an average) in a refugee camp.

Refugees - UNHCR

According to the United Nations Refugee Agency, 33,972 people are forced to flee their homes every day because of conflict and persecution. That is 33,972 people every day. There are, UNHCR reports, 65.3 million forcibly displaced people worldwide. That is sixty-five and three/tenths million homeless/stateless people. Human beings. Many of these are simply desperate to escape; a small percentage hope – and yearn – to return to their homeland if it can be safe (and livable) again.

The United States, a nation of immigrants (we won’t get into the viewpoint of Native Americans here) accepts a few thousand refugees per year.

This writer felt, at the end of the day, she should go home and count her blessings.

The Afghan woman, now – though a long way from citizenship still – an American woman, was asked what those in the audience could do to help.

“Support any of the nonprofits that work to help refugees,” she said. “If you have money, that’s good. But if not, you can give your time – or your prayers.”

But the big thing is, both of these refugees said, echoing the clergy of all faiths who have been speaking out in recent days, not only to give something, but simply to see other individuals not as ‘the other,’ but as members of the community of humankind we share.

Repeatedly, citizens and refugees alike said, somewhat wishfully, “Open your hearts.”

Family and Friends/General interest/Holidays/Lifestyle/Religion/San Francisco

June 11, 2016June 13, 2016

A Ramadan Birthday Dinner

by Fran Johns

Ramadan - dinner crowd

Dates, rice and eggplant moussaka for birthday dinner? It works.

A recent birthday of mine happened to coincide with a long-planned Ramadan Interfaith Iftar Dinner co-hosted by Pacifica Institute and Calvary Presbyterian Church in San Francisco. Since I was minimally involved in the planning and execution of the event, and maximally involved in the birthday, it made sense to combine the two. Plus, I got a lot of mileage out of responding to questions about birthday plans with news we were expecting 225 or so friends for dinner.

The eventual total number of guests will remain a mystery, because so many kept showing up without reservations and we were simply told not to turn anyone away. Attendees were Muslim and non-Muslim, Catholics, Protestants, Jews and Buddhists. (“You know the difference between a Buddhist and a non-Buddhist?” quipped Rev. Ron Kobata of the Buddhist Church of San Francisco; “The non-Buddhist thinks there is a difference.”)

This was not just a celebratory dinner, it was an Iftar dinner, the sunset meal at which Muslims break the fast they have observed since sunrise. To be clear about it, sunrise on June 8^th in San Francisco was at 5:48 AM, and sunset was at 8:37. That is considerably longer than this weak-willed Christian generally goes without sustenance. Having had a perfectly good lunch, and swiped a half-dozen or so dates while putting bowls on the tables, I still had to sneak a glass of milk from the kitchen to keep from fainting away at the welcome table.

Given that dinner would not be served until after the call to prayer at 8:37, the program preceded the meal. It included a video about Pacifica Institute, which was founded in 2003 by a group of Turkish Muslims dedicated to social justice, interfaith cooperation, relationship-building and partnership for the common good – any tiny advancement of which would make a pretty fine birthday present for anybody. Pacifica is aligned with the worldwide Hizmet Movement (“the Service”) which promotes service to humanity regardless of faith, tradition, gender or ethnicity.

Fatih Ferdi Ates giving the call to prayer

We also saw a video about how fasting strengthens one’s spirituality in multiple ways. Muslims observe the fast – abstaining from food, drink, smoking, sexual activity and bad behavior including lying or cursing – every day during the month of Ramadan; which does not exactly compare with giving up chocolate for Lent.

Keynote speaker Dr. Scott Alexander, Assistant Professor of Muslim Studies at Catholic Theological Union in Chicago, spoke to the evening’s theme: The Art of Living Together. “Sharing the joy of fasting,” he said, “fills us all with hope. It stands in opposition to the strident voices of hatred that want us to believe our troubles are the fault of others.” Alexander ended with a prayer that “God will allow others different from ourselves in all ways to touch our hearts.”

One of the co-leaders of the event, who served as MC along with Pacifica Institute’s Fatih Ferdi Ates, was Calvary member Robin Morjikian, whose father is Armenian. Ates, when thanking her, noted that the evening involved the daughter of an Armenian working with a group of Turkish Muslims on an event held at a Presbyterian church and featuring a keynote speech by a professor from a Catholic University. Buddhist Rev. Kobata presented awards to three honorees.

In lieu of birthday cake, dessert consisted of mixed fruit and baklava. I’m not sure how next year’s birthday will stack up.

General interest/journalism/San Francisco/seniors

June 6, 2016

Windows 10: A Horror Story

by Fran Johns

laptop computer crash

If you work on a PC that’s been around since last summer or longer, you know the relentless, obnoxious, uninvited pop-up boxes urging you to upgrade to Windows 10. Its hype has been such that you’d think Windows 10 includes an app for getting the Israelis talking to the Palestinians.

Downloader beware.

The upgrade message assures you that all of your files will be just where you left them. It’s easy, convenient, and free for a limited time! Plus, if you don’t like it, Windows 10 creates recovery files that allow you to roll back to your previous operating system any time within 30 days. Don’t believe it.

I wonder what in the world is in this good free deal for Microsoft? Could it perhaps translate into big bucks for Microsoft; i.e. Bill Gates and a few key employees and investors?

Windows 10 has its fans. Three of them are smart, computer-literate friends of mine who (along with several others) convinced me it would be wise to upgrade. Because, they argued, Microsoft will be discontinuing support for my old familiar Windows 7, and unless I upgrade I will miss out on ongoing security measures, etc.

Here is my experience. It is admittedly anecdotal, but throughout the past hellish week nearly a dozen friends have shared their own Windows 10 horror stories, including two who said it was downloaded without their request or consent. (Occasional pop-ups say Windows 10 will be installed in X-number of hours, and unless you catch it and specifically decline by checking three different boxes, it’s a done deal.) I admit to voluntarily signing on.

So at 2 AM on a recent Tuesday morning Windows 10 was downloaded onto my beloved four-year-old Lenovo ThinkPad laptop. At approximately 8 AM I entered digital purgatory.

For a few brief moments I enjoyed the crisp new look. Then I realized I could not access the two critical elements of computerdom on which my day depends: email, and Word documents. Not to worry. I’m only a few minutes away from the charming and super-capable Geek Squad folks at a nearby electronics place. I hereby salute & applaud my local Geek Squad. It took several exhausting hours – mainly because I tried to work with someone in Bangladesh who couldn’t restore my email – but the Geeks found my Word documents and a way I could send & receive email, even if files, address book etc were lost in cyberspace.

Two hours later it was all gone. Windows 10 was back in control, and denying access to anything. The next two days were essentially devoted to repeated trips to the Microsoft Store, where assorted other charming and super-capable geek types attempted to get Windows 10 the heck off of my weary laptop and roll things back to Windows 7. They could not. The only thing that eventually saved my life and laptop was a long ago purchase (and thank heavens for the auto-renew!) of Carbonite, which kept a copy of everything on my computer somewhere in its mysterious cloud. It took two straight days, but eventually I was back to where I was before the nightmare started.

Here is what Microsoft doesn’t tell you:

Your computer may NOT be compatible with Windows 10.

If you attempt to upgrade using the link furnished with the ubiquitous pop-up, the installation may not be “clean.” (This is what happened with my laptop; Windows 10 was sort-of installed, but not properly.) And you cannot simply re-install – or simply anything for that matter. So if you want to join the ranks of the Windows 10 fans, find a safe way to do so. Probably going to a Microsoft Store makes the best sense. The people at my local Microsoft Store were courteous and competent. They also kept bringing me bottles of cold water; I think they feared having a little old lady suffering a heart attack on their hands.

Your files may indeed be exactly where you left them (as you are repeatedly told,) but you may not be able to access them.

If you have a good anti-virus protection, you can get along just fine without whatever new security features my friends feared I would need.

And as for those “recovery files that allow you to roll back to your previous system within 30 days,” don’t count on it. I invested $149 in a package deal at the Microsoft Store so this could be done, but after two agonizing days of repeated trips we all conceded that the only hope was in the Carbonite cloud. If you really want to preserve the option of rolling back to your previous system, put every single piece of it into a cloud or onto a few flash drives.

Or buy a new PC and start from scratch. This I am doing with the nifty little Asus tablet the Microsoft Store folks set me up with so I could work during Hell Week. Of course by the end of the week I was loving it, so am spending the $300 to keep it for traveling. But I don’t expect to be able to do anything but the most rudimentary tasks on it for a very, very long time.

In the meantime I will be studying my brand new, 325-page Windows 10 for Seniors For Dummies. And I’m adding my Asus to my Carbonite account.

Children/economics/Family and Friends/General interest/Lifestyle/Money/Optimism Collection/Politics & Causes

May 27, 2016October 20, 2021

Philanthropy begins . . . at three

by Fran Johns

My friend Oli, age three, is a philanthropist. Maybe not on the scale of Bill and Melinda Gates, but what were they doing when they were three? Probably not donating 100% of their disposable income to their favorite charities.

Which is what Oli did recently, making him my current favorite philanthropist.

This adventure started when Oli’s bank, something that gives him great pleasure, reached its saturation point. Oli’s bank is an apolitical elephant bank. Oli had been stuffing it with coins received in Easter eggs (the Easter bunny has taken a capitalist turn since I last knew him) or acquired when there was small change from the dairy store, etc. So he enlisted his grandparents to accompany him to the bank, where the bank was relieved of its coinage. The elephant lived to start a new collection career, and Oli took possession of $32.60.

Next, Oli conferenced with his parents about the highest and best use of his $32.60. Right off, he chose his two favorite charities as beneficiaries: the local library that is one of his all-time favorite places in the world, and Mount Nittany Medical Center, which he refers to as “My Hospital.” Oli came into the world at Mt. Nittany, and a few months ago his baby sister Helena did the same. The first experience was significant to others, but the latter was the high point of Oli’s year.

Oli has already had a thank-you letter from the director of his hospital, advising him that he is officially their Youngest Donor. His $16.30, the director said, will be used to buy needed equipment to help the nurses and doctors who deliver babies there.

A grown-up fan of Oli’s, who knows a little about nonprofits and fundraising, subsequently matched his gifts. Thus the elephant bank’s impact has doubled, and the library and hospital have now netted $32.60 each, for a total economic impact of $65.20.

Admittedly, $65.20 won’t change the world today. And Oli may well find something more entertaining to do with his overstuffed elephant bank by the time he turns four. But this seems to me what philanthropy is about: choosing to forgo some small pleasure (half of $32.60 could, after all, have bought a nifty toy and an ice cream cone) and instead show support for some worthy cause that is near and dear to your heart.

Feel free to send a check for $32.60 to your favorite cause, with or without a note that it is an Oli matching gift. Who knows? The elephant bank movement could make the world better

General interest/geriatrics/Health/Lifestyle/seniors

May 22, 2016

Insomnia? Who, me? – – and you too?

by Fran Johns

Insomnia

Sleeping has always been my strong suit. I may have long failed at math and technology, never finished a full marathon, and accumulated an impressive pile of rejection letters; but I have forever taken great pride in my ability to fall asleep. Anywhere, anytime. Occasionally at inappropriate times. And once asleep, the ability to stay asleep has been one of my outstanding skills.

So where did this insomnia come from? Geezerhood? Global angst? Oneness with humanity – since so much of humanity seems afflicted with insomnia? Beginning a year or so ago I have turned into an early-morning insomniac.

Worse (or maybe better, in some complex, comforting sense) it seems to be a universal condition. This theory was reinforced by New Yorker writer Patricia Marx recently in one of her classic explorations of a topic and its related market. “In Search of Forty Winks” (The New Yorker, February 8 & 15) takes readers on a wide awake laughing tour of the gadgets, contraptions, medications, programs and assorted products currently being employed by the thirty+ percent of us regularly struggling to catch a little shut-eye.

It does not help to know you’re not alone.

It does help, a tiny bit, to know you’re not spending the hundreds, often thousands of dollars your fellow insomniacs are spending on headgear, eyewear, electronic gadgetry and bedding while trudging along their sleep-deprived paths through life. But maybe they know something I don’t know.

Me? Telling myself stories has always worked as a way to put myself to sleep. (Which may say something about my short stories, but we will not go there now.) I have a few stock stories that end with achieving some great literary goal, or involve wandering off into the sunset on a romantic beach, or, well, whatever. Sketching them out in my head always puts me to sleep midway through. They are not working.

Instead, my brain – that same organ often prone to fuzzing over at random, inconvenient moments – kicks in at 3, 4 or 5 AM. It says things like What are you going to do when your husband’s neuropathy worsens? Does that kid/grandkid/distressed friend need help? When are you going to finish that (fill in the blank)?

The first two by themselves are good for at least an hour, since they are open-ended to the point of the ridiculous. But the third is the killer. It evolves into an argument with myself about whether to go ahead, get up and make some actual progress on the unfinished whatever, or whether that will just make things worse because I still won’t finish it; either way, the rest of the night’s sleep is shot. Insomnia complications

There are, of course, answers out there. There is a National Sleep Foundation website with rolling banners and tabs about common causes, diagnoses, symptoms and treatment. There are WebMD’s helpful “natural sleep solutions” (lavender oil baths, half a banana with peanut butter 30 minutes before bedtime) and Prevention’s “simple steps (yeah, right) to a better night’s sleep” – all sprinkled with useful data about how sleep loss leads to high blood pressure, weight gain and potentially fatal accidents. Data that’s already keeping you up nights.

Maybe we could worry about it all in the morning? After 7:30 please?

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