Posts

A Baked Potato Conversation

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(Time Period: The first few weeks after Mom moved into memory care.)

Conversation # 1: It Made Sense To Me

Six weeks after my father died, we moved my mother to a smaller assisted living community so that she could receive more personalized care. We were relieved to have found what appeared to be the perfect setting for Mom, yet we were anxious about her transition. Eager to relay everything there was to know about Grace to her caregivers, we typed a brief summary of her background and personality traits, as well as more detailed notes that covered her daily routines and preferences. The bullet points ranged from Mom’s bedtime habits to her favorite TV programs and from her clothes and most comfortable outfits to the big topic: Food. Read more

A Little Defiance Is Good

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(Time Period: About a year after Mom moved into the smaller assisted living home with memory care.)

“These Are Strange”

“I ordered Grace the Alzheimer’s pajamas.”

“Okay,” I responded, “What are Alzheimer’s pajamas?” Read more

The Joy of Connection (Part 2)

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In Part 1, I relayed two stories about strangers who offered the joy of connection during periods of difficulty and crisis. Today’s post is about opportunities for connection that exist in everyday interactions.

You’re Going to Need a New Chicken

I was at Joseph’s, one of our favorite neighborhood markets and in a rush. On this Sunday morning during the holiday season, the market was crowded and I hoped to zip in and out quickly. After grabbing a head of lettuce, tomatoes and some flat-leaf parsley, I beelined it to the rotisserie chickens. Once at the checkout line, I reached down into my grocery cart and single-handedly pulled out one of the two containers. Big mistake. Read more

There’s Something Funny Here

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Want Me to Make You a Sandwich?

Three years ago on a summer day in August, I was visiting my parents in Somers, NY. It was lunchtime and we were about to take our first spoonfuls of the chicken soup I had made the night before. As I looked across the kitchen table at my father, I expected to see a satisfied smile but instead there was a glazed look in his eyes and I noticed he could barely hold himself up. I sprang to my feet, and while my mother and I bolstered him on each side, I reached for the phone to call 911. Fortunately this turned out to be a case of syncope (his blood pressure had dropped too low) and was easily rectified by an adjustment in his medications. At the time though, we thought it might have been a stroke, and that alarming is-this-it question lingered in the air. Read more

Are You in Catch-Up Mode?

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“The sooner I fall behind, the more time I have to catch up.”
– Unknown

Which Kind?

“I’m digging out.” That’s what my friend, Tim, said with a definitive sigh when I asked how he was doing back at work after knee surgery. “I’m catching up.” Those were my own words when my friend, Monica, posed a similar question to me about a month ago. I told her it felt good to be returning to projects that I had put aside last winter in order to care for my mother. Yet Monica sensed a degree of heaviness in my choice of words. “You think you might want to reframe that catching-up part?” Seeing as how this reframing business is something at which we coaches are experts (ahem), I’m usually open to the suggestion. This time I found myself yeah-butting: Okay, but even if I call it something else, aren’t I still catching up? Read more

When Life Gives You a Break, Take It

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As Humbling As It May Be

At my high school, Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker was the dance club’s annual tradition. Soon after the school year began, roles were assigned and months of dedicated practice would follow. There were no tryouts, and as I recall, the two teachers who ran the production determined lead roles over a bottle of wine. Furthermore, seniority ruled: As a freshman, I marched in formation with all the other toy soldiers in musty old band uniforms inherited from the local boys’ prep school; in sophomore year most of my classmates were gingerbread men and flutes, so I was lucky to be dancing the Waltz of the Flowers; and in junior year, I ascended to the role of Snow Queen. Read more

Move the Monkey

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What a Relief!

Do you have something you’ve been dying to get off your list of things to do but just can’t seem to get around to it? Well I had one of those that was hanging around for over a year (actually more, but I prefer not to think of how long). It was something important but I just couldn’t seem to move it up the list. Other things always seemed to take priority. “Enough!” said I, one day. I declared it a project and committed to my advisory team that I would get it done within a certain time frame. I told them it was a monkey on my back and I was tired of carrying him around. Read more

See Yourself As The Expert

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What a Turn of Phrase Can Do

Nine years ago I was sitting in a conference room with my colleague, Joan. We were girding up to tackle the task of creating a brand new graphic exhibit for the company’s corporate briefing center of which I was the director. This job, one of many within a larger project, felt particularly daunting. Even though we had traversed this territory successfully before, this time was different. We felt the pressure of wanting to make it bigger and better and were concerned about communicating the exact right message. And once again, the deadline loomed. We had allowed our creativity to be squelched and were procrastinating with the best of them. Read more

Give Yourself a Hand!

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Eight Minutes

photo of concertWhen I was twelve years old, I had a habit of slipping into my two older sisters’ room when no one was around and cranking up the stereo to dance. Granted I was limited by their selection of albums, as my collection was pretty lean. One particular song —and, all right, I admit that it was on the Barry Manilow Live album— included an eight-minute drum solo followed by wild applause from the crowd. I would listen to this track over and over again while dancing and taking swooping, dramatic bows as the applause rose louder. What an ebullient state I’d be in when I was finished! Read more

Don’t Rest On Your Laurels — Ride Them!

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Horn Tooting As A Necessity

Fresh out of college and starting my corporate career, I was advised to keep an attagirl file – a place to collect letters of praise for a job well done that I might receive from coworkers or customers.  Since this was before e-mail, these letters had a formality to them and were called Letters of Commendation.  Over the years, the practice became more casual as the folders filled with more e-mails than letters. Read more