Pamela A. MacLean, June 30, 2009
Poverty for older women is a real and growing
problem. Over the years we cared for my mother I met a number of
her friends and heard their stories of financial strain. Most women of her
generation did not work outside the home and relied on the finances of their
husbands. Stories abounded of lifetime earnings spent and nothing saved, of
wills that gave a house to the children and left nothing for mom to use in her
old age. Many lived in frumpy apartments with little or no money to spare
after paying for rent, groceries and medicine. Today, women have careers but
even two-income families struggle to save and still nearly 40 percent of women
living alone depend on social security for nearly all their income. omen
need to educate themselves about pensions and retirement if they hope to enjoy a
comfortable retirement.
At the esteemed Mayo Clinic, researchers found that short,
preoperative meetings before heart surgery helped reduce
cost, errors, and miscommunications. I'm
not surprised. And when
surgeons and other doctors take the time to have that same kind of short,
informative chat with patients before any procedure, large or small, it goes a
long way in making the patient feel better.
I've been hearing a lot these days about personal medicine.
That's where a specific
plan, including prescriptions, therapy, or dietary changes, is custom-made to
meet a patient's specific needs. In
medicine, one size definitely does not fit all.
It's like those hospital gowns that wrap twice around some people and
leave others' rear quarters exposed. When
I go to the doctor - thankfully a rare occurrence - I want to be heard.
Maybe my problem is commonplace, and the physician has a standard way to
treat it, but maybe I'm not the common patient.
I know when I got to the dentist that I need a lot less Novocain than she
thinks I will. After two
appointments where simply replacing an old filling resulted in half of my lip
drooping toward my chin and slobbering water on myself for more than four hours
afterwards, I got fed up. The
first thing I told the new dentist was to go light on the drugs.
She listened, she gave me a little bit of anesthetic, tested to see if I
was numb, and then agreed: I'm a Novocain lightweight! All physicians should be willing to take a few extra minutes out
of their admittedly over-packed days and nights to really listen to their
patients. We just might have a
clue about ourselves and what ails us.
And if we're wrong it's unlikely that we'll sue ourselves.
"It sucks being grown up," said my 16-year-old, Matt, in the car on
the way home from school. "You
don't have as many friends. "I
immediately jumped in and defended myself and his dad, pointing out my book
group and exercise buddies, and Ted's old basketball/beer-drinking pals.
But the more I thought about it, I could see what Matt meant.
In high school and college you're surrounded by your friends, day and
night in and out. You travel in a
pack, and everywhere you go, it's a party. There
is always someone ready to listen or just hang out.
Adults, on the other hand, have to plan ahead.
Matt sees us schedule dinners and lunches to see our friends; we have to
join book clubs or boot camps or softball leagues to stay connected.
Recently, my long-time group of adult ballet-dancer friends has begun to
fragment, pirouetting off into different directions.
What used to be weekly or monthly lunches has dwindled to one or two a year. And although I understand it,
losing friends hurts. And it will
never be like high school, no matter how social we are.
Jobs and relationships and children change all that gleeful spontaneity.
What I need to tell my son is: enjoy every minute of being with your
friends for as long as you can.
The old joke of being a "Catholic School Surivor" reflects the
mixed feelings many of us had about schools that did a good job of teaching us
the three Rs, but a lousy job of teaching us about life. And nobody's laughing
now in the aftermath of a long-awaited report that documents the depths of
depravity that existed for decades in
Catholic schools where discarded children were beaten, abused and raped
by men who preached the word of God, but practiced the work of the devil
himself. The report makes me think of the hardened nuns who schooled members of
my family. Many were Irish immigrants who had entered Irish convent schools at a
young age, and many had obvious psychological problems that included hostility
towards boys, paranoia about sexual matters, hair-trigger tempers and a tendency
towards corporal punishment - classic symptoms for victims of sexual violence. I
saw a nun throw a boy against a blackboard so hard that it cracked. I saw a nun
crack a half-inch oak pointer over a boy's head. I saw a nun demonstrate torture
techniques against a boy who'd been bad. And if a boy got too near a girl, some
nuns viewed it as perversion. I've often thought that I'm a writer now because
of the language skills I learned in those strange, disturbing years. But today I
wonder what my teachers might have been taught when they were young.
Today I went to the memorial service for the father of my closest friend in the
world. Wendy and I met my sophomore year of college, and we've been one
another's best friends since, closer than sisters. Her dad died last week,
quickly after a stroke and then a heart attack just shy of his 87th birthday. He
had been robust and active up until he went into the hospital. Wendy's mom is
strong and is doing well considering she just lost her life partner of more than
50 years. I lost my own mother almost ten years ago when she succumbed to
emphysema acquired after years of smoking a pack a day. Her death was not
unexpected; in many ways it was a relief since she had been so sick. But now I
think about the fact that now Wendy and I each have one parent. I think that
makes my 30-plus-year friendship with Wendy even sweeter. We still have each
other to lean on, to share our joys, pains, and frustrations with; in some
possibly predestined way, we are more each other's family than ever before.
Imagine this happening today: a US Senator holds a "teach-in" and
declares "Earth Day." That act almost seems radical now,
although that's exactly what Sen. Gaylord Nelson did in 1970, just as the middle
of the baby boom was getting out of high school, staging massive protests
against the Vietnam War, and burning bras and draft cards like they were going
out of style - which they were. Here we are 39 years later. Fuel
mileage on clunky American cars has crept up from the mid-teens to just over 20
mpg. Global
warming is turning the global ice caps into giant puddles. And thousands
of species have vanished from the planet forever. Generation Y has taken up the
cause of the environment, and - whether they know it or not - they have tens of millions of staunch
supporters among their elders. I for one believe we have an obligation to
Mother Earth and all her children. So if anyone would like to stage something
between a teach-in and a massive protest, count me in. And thank you, Sen. Nelson.
Underscoring The
Recession Gets Annoying headline are real-life experiences of those of
us "on the ground" in this recession. With staffing down at grocery
and liquor stores nearby, the mirrored vegetable displays are dirty and smeared
and the liquor store shelves are unpriced after state tax hikes here in Oregon
of 50 cents per bottle. Meanwhile, bottle return areas are packed with recyclers
who tell me they're doing it "for the cash." Like most people, I've
felt the gloom of this recession. The buildings seemed dirtier, the streets more
riddled with potholes, the prices on everything but the necessities too high to
bear. So I escaped to the garden. With broccoli, lettuces, beans, herbs and more
now nestled in for summer crops, I found the sun light at the end of this
recession tunnel. Even as our conveniences die out and living gets a little
harder, the crux of life lives on: sun, rain water, fragrant compost-fed earth,
and healthy food raised by caring hands. Here's to life in this recession's slow
lane....
There are few who haven't heard the dying
gasps of the newspaper industry. But not many are adequately tuned in to
the accompanying death rattle of the Fourth Estate, that vehicle of information
about the workings of government and industry that our founders felt essential
to democracy. So say Robert
McChesney and John Nichols in The Nation Magazine in a meticulously
plotted countrywide alert and argument for a federal stimulus package for
journalism. Neither argues, however, that the corporate newspaper model can or
should be preserved. What can and must survive, they say, is watchdog and
investigative reporting on serious topics. But they concede they have no idea
what the best new model will be. Blogger Clay
Shirky returns to Gutenberg and the print revolution for some hints. His
conclusion. "Nothing will work, but everything might." We won't see it
until after it happens. In the meantime, he echoes Nichols and McChesney in
saying we need to shift our attention from "save newspapers" to
"save society." Rather than saving institutions, we need to save
journalism, on which our stability as a democracy depends. Our present economic
crisis is a sobering lesson in what happens when few are paying attention to the
fine print.
A lot of my friends are mad at the World Wide Web, but I'm not. The
concept of the web got started 20 years ago, but it wasn't until about
1994 that it exploded in popularity; that's when Mosaic debuted as the first
browser. Computers already had a bad rep by then for dehumanizing society. But
all hell broke loose after we started surfing the 'net: online porn, stolen
identities, zombie computers, Internet pedophilia. Some of my closest colleagues
blame the web for destroying
newspapers, although they had been consolidating at a breakneck pace for
the better part of a century. Yeesh. All that said, the web is more popular than
ever, bringing news to hundreds of millions of people, sharing important
information about health, making us all better consumers and helping to bridge
the isolation for the homebound. Totalitarian governments hate the net, which is
another reason to love it. But why do we have such a love-hate
relationship with technology? I suspect it's because of something I heard from a
Sun Microsystems scientist years ago: "Technology is easy. People are
hard."
I've got blonde hair. So I know a thing or two about stereotypes, and can
sympathize with boomers who are now receiving their own labels. No one likes to
be pigeonholed.
It strips us of our individuality. But marketers are feverishly trying to play
to boomers' economic and retirement fears, peppering their promotions with
statements such as "you've worked hard" and "embrace the
moment" because they see that some boomers are feeling vulnerable during
uncertain times. Well, as a blonde who's not having much fun right now, I'm sure
most boomers aren't that willing to embrace the moment either. Labels and
stereotypes don't feel good.
The classic definition of insanity is the inability to differentiate between
fantasy and reality. Point in case: the hit TV show 24 is fantasy. It portrays a
no-holds-barred approach to stopping terrorists and while it is often far, far
over the top, it provides a weekly opportunity for 20 million Americans to vent
their frustrations in the age of terrorism and sparks spirited debates over
personal freedoms. On the other hand, we find the all-too-real American
rendition program undertaken by the Bush Administration, which allowed people to
be detained without warrants, hooded, shackled and taken to some god-forsaken
hell hole to be tortured at US taxpayer expense, then thrown into a prison
without trial or hope. Now that Obama is in charge, it's
time to take a closer look at these ugly covert operations and who was
responsible for them. We know the difference between a fictional thriller and a
real-life crime against humanity. It's time to end the insanity in America.
How can I look younger? That's a question most people ask as they age, and
the concern isn't isolated to the boomer crowd. Ten years ago, my friends and I
didn't chat about eye wrinkle creams. But now, words like retinal and
antioxidants surface often as part of our wrinkle prevention discussions. I
wonder what the conversation will be like in another 10 years when some sagging
is bound to set in? The hard part is that some hard-to-control external
factors like divorce and antidepressants can also wreak havoc on our
mugs, according to a study. But what about other factors that we can
(reasonably) control like an upbeat outlook? I know that on a day when I have
eaten well, drank lots of water and shared some laughs with my family and
friends, I'm more likely to embrace the face I see in the mirror before I head
for bed. Attitudes about aging can play a big part in whether we slather on eye
cream, or learn to appreciate the way our body is changing. It would be great to
see more research on the latter. Positive attitudes could be the new fountain of
youth.
To save a single life is to save
the world. So says the Talmud. But when UN Secretary General Ban Ki-moon
urged an immediate ceasefire, Israel moved further into Gaza in pursuit of Hamas,
shelling a UN relief agency and a hospital in the process. The heart-wrenching
stories from Gaza recall grisly tales from the Vietnam War: infants huddled near
their mothers' corpses, Israeli troops barring emergency vehicles from helping
civilians. As the death toll passed 1,000, Hamas kept firing missiles into
Israel and insisted that Israel pull out as a condition of a ceasefire. Can the
two sides really share a path to peace? We're reminded of the great Jewish
thinker, Rebbe Nachman of Breslov, who said: "All the world is a narrow
bridge. The main thing is not to be afraid." The world is too small
for us not to treat one another as neighbors. And if life is a series of
dangerous crossings, we cannot afford not to contemplate seriously before
setting out. In the words of another spiritual leader, the Rev. Martin Luther
King Jr., "wars are poor chisels for carving out peaceful tomorrows."
Fluorescent lights, waxed linoleum floors, ear-splitting blasts from a PA
system: The nursing home is likely no one�s desired destination, and the last
place likely to kindle sexual desire. But new studies suggest nursing homes may
be in for a big change, and we can thank the sex, drugs and rock�n'roll
generation for that. An advance guard of researchers, including a group from
Kansas State University, are nudging nursing home officials to start
thinking about residents' desires for a lively sex life. It�s about
time. The nation's 78 million post-World War II babies came of age during
the free love era, and chances are slim they�ll check their good vibes at the
door if and when they can no longer live independently. With age, expect boomers
to give up what they must - a driver�s license, say, or a problematic flight
of stairs. But they're as unlikely to embrace chastity as they are to forgo
Internet access.
The
real spirit of Christmas for 14 million Americans is alcohol, the most
deadly of our recreational drugs. That's right. It's the most dangerous time
of the year for friends and neighbors who don't know how to stop drinking.
And for the rest of us, it's good to keep in mind that alcohol is linked to
higher rates of heart problems, cancer of all kinds, ulcers, liver failure,
diabetes, obesity, depression, birth defects, domestic violence, suicide and, of course, that great American holiday tradition, auto fatalities. Alcohol is the new
tobacco, which is why some of your hipper friends are opting for softer drinks
these days. That doesn't mean you shouldn't enjoy a little Christmas cheer at
the office party or toast Ol' Saint Nick over this year's roast beast. But when
you do, be a good enough host to offer a choice of beverages. Make it OK for
friends to have a little warm cider or seltzer if they don't really want some
wine. Meet a friend for coffee instead of a drink. Never egg-on a friend to try
some rum-soaked eggnog. Don't insist they "make an exception" to try
your holiday port. If you really value your friends and their health, give them
the gift of choice this year. And if you haven't done anything nice for yourself
this year, try putting a cork in it.
Even a
dog has a sense of fairness, researchers tell us. So why is it so hard
for politicians and business leaders to understand that you
can't sell Senate seats or run your company into the ground with serious
repercussions. We have one in 100 Americans locked up behind bars, and most of
them are there for trying to hustle a few hundred bucks by selling drugs.
Deplorable as that may be, it pales in comparison to the criminally insane
behavior of auto company execs who insisted on maximizing profit by churning out
gas guzzlers when they knew that Japanese automakers were making huge profits on
fuel-efficient Hondas and Toyotas. It's refreshing to see the governor of
Illinois locked up on charges of corruption. Maybe, instead
of bailing out the auto execs, we should book a few extra rooms in the
gray bar hotel and turn
the auto factories over to workers with common sense.
Julie Mitchell, June 12, 2009
Julie Mitchell, June 1, 2009
Tom Murphy, May 20, 2009
Julie Mitchell, May 5, 2009
Tom Murphy, April 22, 2009
Jennifer Meacham, April 7, 2009
Robin Evans, March 25, 2009
Tom Murphy, March 16, 2009
Cecily O'Connor, March 5, 2009
Tom Murphy, February 20, 2009
Cecily O'Connor, February 5, 2009
Rebecca Rosen Lum, January 17, 2009
Rebecca Rosen Lum, December 25, 2008
Tom Murphy, December 19, 2008
Tom Murphy, December 10, 2008
