One Part Reflection, One Part Rant, One Part Resolution

I cannot recall a time when I was unaware of the power of words.  Living with my mother and brother in her parents' home, with a young uncle, an aunt and an aunt by marriage, at the end of World War II, offered a primer in the use of language to convey hurt, worry, anger, resentment and fear.  A primer in the use of language to cajole, ingratiate, belittle, manipulate, and, conversely and thankfully, occasionally to soothe, comfort, console, and reassure.  Unfortunately, too much of the former, too little of the latter.  

Every male of fighting age in our extended family was enlisted and many engaged in combat duty.  Most of the families in Milwaukee's blue collar neighborhoods, probably throughout the country, were in the same boat, coping with the same stress levels, with the same insufficient training and experience to deal with it.

So I learned quickly to pay attention to tone of voice, to sense when emotions were high and arguments were likely to escalate.  I came to recognize the words and phrases that could trigger a volley of insults and accusations, name-calling and laying blame..you never, you always, you need to, why can't you...etc., etc.  I waited for apologies that never came.   I remember the clenching of my jaw, the twisting in my stomach, the tears I struggled to hide. I remember wondering how someone could be so sure of what someone else really meant. But most of all, I remember the bewilderment I felt when people whom I believed loved each other and needed each other's protection could be so deliberately hurtful.   I remember feeling very unsafe.

Those years were the impetus for my lifelong interest in communication - what constitutes effective communication?  What forces impede communication?  What limits our ability to discuss differences?  How much responsibility do I own for how you hear me?  How much responsibility do you own for how I hear you? Each answer leading to more questions.

I now look back on those early years with some understanding and compassion.  People were so fearful, so unprepared.  We lived in isolated neighborhoods, with limited information trickling in via newspapers, news reels, the radio.  We didn't know what we didn't know.  Our perceptions were shaped by rigid cultural norms, strong religious influences and carefully crafted political propaganda.  Our behaviors by history and habit.  Yet, somehow we managed, eventually, to move forward, certainly with some scars, but together.

These past months, however, I find myself grinding my teeth at night, frequently feeling my stomach in knots, fighting back tears of frustration, cursing at the TV, shaking my head in disbelief at what I see and hear in the news, in threads of conversations and shares on Facebook.  Language to convey hurt, worry, outrage, resentment and fear.  Language to cajole, ingratiate, humiliate, threaten, belittle, manipulate.  Language designed to distort, distract, deny.   Perceptions shaped by rigid cultural norms, strong religious influences and carefully crafted political propaganda.  Our behaviors defended by history and habit.  Emotion and belief superseding thinking and reason.  Negotiation and compromise becoming dirty words. And the result - more divisiveness, a rise in bullying and hate crimes, cynicism and distrust.  Lying called fake news.  Threats called bluffing.  All exacerbated by our sheer numbers, the speed with which information - true, false or mixed - can be spread to a population too often unable or unwilling to sort it out.  

What's a person to do?  Well, this is what this person is doing, for what it's worth.  Because I have no idea if we, as a country, will weather this toxicity, but I suspect I won't unless I -

• limit my time on Facebook and with the news,
• confine my energy and attention to a few FB sites I trust, preferably those with moderators who help to insure a modicum of civility,
• subscribe to Snopes daily debrief to help sort the wheat from the chaff,
• insert a question or comment where I think it might make a difference, but only where it might,
• call and write my Congressmen to voice my opinions and concerns,
• monitor my own language, particularly when I'm angry or afraid,
• make sure I find a way to laugh in the morning and record gratitudes before I go to bed,
• spend some enjoyable time with John and connect with a friend every day,
• learn more about how to discuss issues more effectively across the chasms of religious and political differences, and
• populate my world with others who want to help bridge these chasms rather than widen them.

For, what else is a person to do? 

I Don't Get It

"Democracy cannot succeed unless those who express their choice are prepared to choose wisely. The real safeguard of democracy, therefore, is education."  

~ Franklin D. Roosevelt

and

"The aim of education is the knowledge, not of facts, but of values. "  William S. Burroughs

"Knowledge is power. Information is liberating. Education is the premise of progress, in every society, in every family."   Kofi Annan

"A quality education grants us the ability to fight the war on ignorance and poverty."   
Charles B. Rangel

"It is better to know some of the questions than all of the answers."    James Thurber

"The goal of education is the advancement of knowledge and the dissemination of truth. "  John F. Kennedy

"There are many problems, but I think there is a solution to all these problems; it's just one, and it's education."  Malala Yousafzai

"Education's purpose is to replace an empty mind with an open one."    Malcolm Forbes

"Education is the ability to listen to almost anything without losing your temper or your self-confidence."   Robert Frost

"The illiterate of the future will not be the person who cannot read. It will be the person who does not know how to learn."    Alvin Toffler

"I believe education is the great equalizer."   Dave Heineman

"Human history becomes more and more a race between education and catastrophe." H. G. Wells

When did education become suspect?  How has it come to follow that being educated automatically means you must think you are elite or better than anybody else?  When did being educated become a threat, or something to be belittled, demeaned or dismissed? How could the President of the United States boast that he loves the poorly educated?

The more I see that his lack of character and his immaturity, his blatant hypocrisy and outright pathological lying are condoned or tolerated by his followers - or that his weekly golfing excursions, executive orders, and proposals clearly benefit himself and the wealthy and yet, they still think he cares about the average American, well, I can understand his boast. Why wouldn't he love the poorly educated?!

I am a second generation American whose paternal grandmother did not learn English and whose father did not graduate from high school; yet  I was the first female in my family to go to college. I not only became an elementary school principal but also went on to create and manage a boutique consulting firm for 25 years. I know the power of education. Not only a formal education, for I have met many learned individuals who didn't go to college and much of my education has occurred since graduating.  But a good formal education can also inspire -where it has been absent - curiosity, creativity, thoughtfulness, tolerance, a questioning mind, critical thinking skills and perhaps above all, the desire to keep learning. 

In only two generations, our family rose from among the working poor to solidly middle class.  My brother became a dentist and then a master wood worker, my sister a choral director and now a clinical social worker.  Each of us has learned from teachers, scientists, books, the arts, friends, strangers, each other.  Learning formally and informally.  Learning to love and appreciate learning.

It is because of our educations that we have realized the American dream of having it better than our parents did. It is with the help of our educations that each of us made career changes mid-stream, that we have weathered the vicissitudes of life. It is with the help of our educations that John and I are managing his health care today.  

That this President loves the poorly educated rather than encourage them to become educated, that he has a Secretary of Education whose intention is to gut public education, that he boasts that he doesn't read, that his vocabulary is that of an average 4th grader, that he tweets reactively and irresponsibly in the middle of the night- is an embarrassment at best, a disgrace at worst.  That he does not believe in climate change and demeans the scientific and intelligence communities, that he supports defunding the arts and educational opportunities for the disadvantaged bodes harm for our economic and cultural future. 

Yes, I am concerned, upset, even fearful.  But  I will continue to write, to call my representatives, to express my concerns and share my observations.  I will continue to read, to learn, to challenge my assumptions and challenge the assumptions of others who are willing to learn with me..  But when I am overwhelmed by the magnitude of this disaster, I will rant awhile.

And last, but definitely not least...

"Education is our only political safety. Outside of this ark all is deluge."

~ Horace Mann

From the Ridiculous to the Sublime

"We are made of oppositions; we live between two poles....You don't reconcile the poles.  You just recognize them."

~ Orson Wells 

I woke Friday, dreading the day.  I still struggled with the reality that "he who would be king", as I have begun to refer to him, would be in the White House.  That so many people could overlook, condone, even applaud his fear mongering,  threats, adolescent petulance, sexist and racist behavior, and blatant lies has been - and remains - a source of dismay and distress. That he and his inner circle exhibit many of the characteristics of Fascism, and that so many Americans either don't appear to recognize this nor seem to care, I find alarming.   That I am being asked to wait and see, to give him a chance...for what?  For how long?

The morning sky did little to uplift my spirits.  Gunmetal gray overhead, a steady persistent rain that mirrored the darkness of my spirits.  John coughing and sneezing, courting yet another cold. I decided not to watch the event, knowing I would end up at best, muttering under my breath so as not to disturb John or openly spewing my frustration and anger at the TV; neither the image of the intelligent, wise woman I'd like to think I can be.

I managed somehow to get through that very long day keeping my frustration and pessimism at bay by staying occupied with household chores and hobbies.   I eventually fell asleep wondering how I would manage the coming months concerned for John, concerned for my country, and concerned for myself if left alone, an old woman, in a world that looks potentially unsafe and inhospitable.

Then, Saturday dawned, still dark, still gloomy, still rainy.  Fortunately, I had a meeting in the morning with a group of women I enjoy and trust, women as concerned as I am, women with whom I can express my concerns without being told to get over it or "give him a chance." Got in a little retail therapy and went home to catch news of the march in Washington. Would the resistance I've been hearing about and reading about on-line materialize into anything that neared the goal of a million women gathering?  Would anyone notice? Could it matter?  What if it went south and people were hurt?

I remained glued to the set as images of women and men and children marching in peaceful protest were gathered from across the country, from across the world.  I delighted in the diversity of cultures, was encouraged by the span of generations, surprised to see some of the cities represented, and entertained by the audacity and cleverness of some of the posters.  I watched as they flooded streets for mile upon mile.  Over 500,000 in D.C. in the midst of winter.  Hundreds of thousands marching in cities in red states.  In Europe and Africa.  Even a group in Antarctica.

But most of all, I could feel the tide of my pessimism and dread recede.  We are not as apathetic and cynical as I have feared.  It will not be that easy to manipulate and remove our civil liberties.  Perhaps, the best to come out of this morass is the awakening of engagement and participation.  Peaceful engagement.  Participation by people in the mainstream who have been lulled into complacency or cynicism.  People on the fringes who have come to believe that no one cares.  People who will be heard.

This morning, as I complete this, the rains have stopped.  The sun is shining.  The sky is filled with clouds.  He is still in the White House.  There is no balance of power in D. C.  But I know there are millions of people watching.  Millions of people speaking up.  Millions of people who do recognize what could too easily happen.  Perhaps some of them did not vote in November, but maybe, just maybe, they will vote it 2018.  This is something I will wait to see.

My deepest gratitude to all who marched.  You have restored my faith and hope.  No small accomplishment.

  

A Little Rant

"...whatever you do you have to keep moving forward." 
~Martin Luther King Jr. 

A couple weeks ago, I blogged that the role of patient advocate calls for "skill, patience, tenacity and fearlessness." After yesterday, the seven hours John was in the hospital, I would add an adequate knowledge base, courage, a thick skin, support and the ability to regroup and try, try, again (is there a single word for that?)

Yesterday...John was scheduled for a bone marrow biopsy to provide information as to the efficacy of the chemo treatment he has been receiving.  Going into this procedure, we knew from the results of his blood work on Monday that his hemoglobin count was low and dropping; we could see the overt physical signs and indicating, from four months experience, the likelihood that another transfusion soon would be necessary was obvious. Going into this procedure, we were both, I believe, understandably anxious.  Trying to be responsibly proactive and to avoid more tests and procedures for John than necessary,  I requested help from our cancer clinic to arrange for a transfusion at the hospital while we were there, if so indicated.  I was assured that this could happen.  I also repeated my request Tuesday with the liaison for the hospital when she called to confirm appointment particulars, and once again was reassured that this could happen. Well, you know where this is going.  I was able to arrange for his blood to be typed (a step necessary for a transfusion) shortly after we arrived, but when the hemoglobin count came in indicating a further drop and the hospital physician contacted our hematologist for his authorization, he reported that he had been told not to provide the transfusion so we might see if his numbers improved- even though this count has compelled prior transfusions and has never improved without transfusion.  

This decision, I felt, would put John at further risk and possibly require a visit to the ER.  A visit we would endure, not the hematologist nor hospital personnel.So, I pressed on.  I called the clinic myself and expressed my concerns, knowing full well that I was being labeled as "upset" (which I was, both labeled and upset), probably over-reactive, and daring to challenge authority.   I asked for more information regarding the decision, the minimum I felt we were owed.  Bottom line, John received a transfusion.  And we left, seven hours after we arrived, exhausted.  And I am not done.  I will speak with our hematologist to clarify what happened and why.  I will provide feedback to the hospital that the attending nurse was amazing.  She helped whenever and wherever she could, more than others might have.  But, I will also convey that I wonder why I gave all that information to the hospital on Tuesday if it never filtered down to the appropriate department.  

I will provide feedback that I would hope the assistance I received was because John needed it, not because I was "upset" and needed to be appeased. I will convey that there is a cost to these breakdowns and they need to know the cost.  John would undoubtedly be in worse shape today had I not persisted.  I know that it adds to John's stress to see how hard I often have to work to get him the help he needs, even the help we are being promised...and anything that adds to the stress we already face, is, duh! at a minimum, upsetting.  An additional cost is we lose trust in the organizations we must be able to trust. To be clear, I know these things happen.  I suspect they will happen again, in another context, with other players. I see no malice of intent.  I appreciate the help I did receive.  Too often, these breakdowns are the consequences of  system issues - the lack of communication, guidelines that become law and hamper creative problem solving, cultural biases that discourage questioning or taking personal responsibility.  

But although I recognize the system issues and can appreciate the frustration those within the system may also experience, only they can improve the system.  I know I will deal with each occurrence as it happens. No doubt. I suspect this isn't the last time my upset will loom as the immediate problem.  No doubt.  I will strive to be as proactive as possible and continue to provide feedback that might be helpful, both positive and negative.  I will continue to be better informed so that I can ask effective questions, make effective requests.  As the expression goes, I can be like a dog with a bone.  Just wish it wasn't so demanding.  Just wonder how other caregivers, who may not have the skills, the tenacity, the energy and support, are making it? 

But I do feel better for this little rant!

I Am Not a Luddite!

"I hate to say it, but I come from an era when we weren't consumed by technology and television."

~Jimmy Buffett

I come from the same generation and don't hate to say it. Having recently returned from a trip to Santa Barbara, my first flight in almost two years, I saw signs of folks consumed by technology, glued to cell phones and computers, rarely noticing their surroundings whether sitting in the airport, walking down the street,  even across from tables in restaurants.  To a degree that I found confusing and disconcerting. So much so that my reactions have remained with me since my return, hovering like an incipient headache.  

Before I share my observations and my concerns, a disclaimer.  As a member of one of the last generations to remember ice boxes, party lines, and wringer washing machines, the humid heat of Midwestern summers before air conditioning and hanging clothes in the basement in the winter, I  appreciate the modern conveniences that technology has produced. I wax lyrical over small appliances - love my Keurig coffee maker, thank the inventor of the electric can opener- and there must surely be a place in heaven for the creators of the microwave.  I have a cell phone, enjoy my Kindle, e-mail, Skype and use Facebook.  In short, I am not a Luddite.

I am, however, also not a techie, nor do I desire to become one.  Because as a member of my generation,I also remember the joy of receiving a handwritten letter and the pleasure of long conversations with a friend.  I had fewer friends, but I knew them, had a shared history.   I listened to the radio, played board games, pursued hobbies. The family doctor came to my home and didn't push prescriptive drugs.  I didn't have to ask people to put their phones away or look at me when I talked to them.  The bullies on our playgrounds had faces and names.  Information came into my world at a pace I could digest, understand and discuss in depth.

So, I would rather discuss a problem in person or over the phone, (a land line preferably); I will not bring my cell phone to a meal and don't instant message.  I journal my most private thoughts in a  notebook using a ballpoint pen.  I tape tv programs so I can eliminate the constant barrage of commercials suggesting I may need a new drug that I suspect will be recalled within a couple years for its side effects.  Increasingly, I choose to listen to music or read a book, a real book, or pursue a hobby. 

It can be argued that my generation doesn't need all the networking technology or that because we're retired, we have the time to write letters, have long conversations.  Or, as too often is the accusation, that we are afraid of the technology or too old to learn new tricks.  I maintain that some of us are making conscious choices, to communicate deeply, to take charge of how we spend time, to curtail the distractions, to control technology rather than let it control us.  

We don't need to defend this choice.  Or apologize.  Indeed, we may be one of the last generations to understand it is a choice.

  

Food for Thought

"Five percent of the people think; ten percent of the people think they think; and the other eighty-five percent would rather die than think."

~Thomas Edison

"Thinking is the hardest work there is which is probably why so few engage in it."

~Henry Ford

I've sat down to create this post a few times over the past couple weeks, sometimes just staring at the screen unable to focus my turbulent thinking, other times ending up by deleting what I had just composed.  Troubled because although I could well  be in the ten percent of people that Edison designated, I know I am not in the eighty-five percent.  I am willing to do the hard work.  I value critical and creative thinking.  I work to understand my own thinking, as well as that of others.  I struggle when I can't.

Why have I struggled?   Because, over and above the obvious craziness of the Orlando horror, the circus of this year's political campaigning and now Brexit,  I am on the verge of despair.   Not only because of the lack of cooperative, responsible thinking but what appears to be the downright refusal to do so.  It's not just the oversimplification of complex issues or rampant generalizations.  Or the name calling and innuendo, the righteous polarization.  Or the casting about for blame rather than determining responsibility.  Or even the out and out lies.

• It's hearing a neighbor say he can't understand why so much air time was given just because a  bunch of "queers" got killed.  Or the  pastor who said he was only sorry that more of these "pedophiles" weren't killed.  Or another pastor who called the murders God's retribution.

• It's the Governor of Florida saying that Isis is responsible for the murders, not the killer with a semi-automatic.  (Now Isis doesn't have to claim responsibility, our politicians will do it for them.)

• It's our seeming inability to consider it could be an act of terror AND a hate crime.

• Or that compromise in any way could be a win.

•  It's the refusal to let a bill come before the House of Representatives even when it's obvious it would have been voted down.

• It's the outright refusal to answer a question, not just to sidestep it.  And the reluctance or inability of too many interviewers to drive for anything more.

• It's panel members who shout at each other, talk over each other, make snide comments, demand a respect for their point of view that they do not give others' opinions.  

• It's the TV ad calling for telephone calls to assure that Donald Trump is not denied the presidency...not the nomination, but the presidency.  And I thought the election was to take place in November!

• It's the feeding, the fueling of fear, anger, distrust, hatred, no matter the consequences.

• It's the labeling of anything remotely moderate or tempered as weak or stupid, ill-informed, elitist - anything that will serve to diminish it.

And then, this morning a moment of clarity - during one of the Sunday morning political shows, the topic of fact checking came up in response to claims made by the major candidates.  One of the panel simply dismissed fact finding as an example of journalistic elitism and followed his assertion with the statement that the American People don't care about facts!  End of the conversation.  One man blithely declaring he speaks for the American People (all 300+ million of us) and asserting that we are not interested in the facts, - or, as challenged by another panelist, care about hearing the truth.  Not only a refusal to think anything other than what someone tells them to believe, but a devaluing of those who even suggest that they do.

Less confusion, yes.  Less dismay, no.

I know fear and hatred are not new.  I know partisanship and polarization are not new.  I have been voting since the 60's after all.  But the issues are so much more complex today and the sheer mass of humanity so much greater.  The consequences of the demagoguery that is sprouting up around the world could be devastating.  We should be thinking more not less.  We should be thinking together.

Less confusion, yes.  Less dismay, no.

Caller, Beware

"Your choice is to be active or passive in your response,"
~  Deborah Day

I had intended to post something quite different this week, and then I got that telephone call, that very annoying call.  "Private caller" on my caller ID.  Area code I didn't recognize, but thought faintly familiar.  So, curious, I decided to answer it, half expecting that no one would be there.

"Hello, Angela.  This is Kevin from HP.  We are receiving warnings that your printer is sending some strange messages to your computer that will damage your hard drive if not corrected immediately.  So I need you to go to your computer so that I can help you fix this problem."  

All delivered in one breath and in an accent from the Philippines, or India, or Sri Lanka, or some nation where I doubt Kevin is a common name.

Assuming the most mature, civil tone of voice I could muster up, I responded, "Stop, please. I do not recognize this number as coming from HP and I will have my own computer support check to see if there is a problem, so thanks, but no thanks.  And I'm hanging up now. Good-bye."

A moment later, another call.  Same number.  Not prone to passivity, I answered it.  

"Hello, Angela.  We were cut off.  Let me explain...."

"No, Kevin, we weren't.  I hung up."

"But, Angela, if you will just listen to me."

Not as concerned with maturity or civility this time, I responded, "No, Kevin, the problem isn't that I won't listen to you.  It's that you haven't listened to me.  I don't want your help.  I don't believe you are calling from HP and if you call again, I will call my lawyer and issue a complaint of harassment."  

This time Kevin hung up and didn't even say good-bye!  He did not call a third time and  I rather suspect my number has been taken off his call list.

Now, I don't want to become passive, but I also don't want to become paranoiac, nor cynical, so I decided to run the call and my response past Austin, my computer support.

"No, Angela, your instincts weren't wrong.  You'd be surprised how many people have been scammed by calls like that or how much money they lose in the process.  These con men especially target seniors.  You did the right thing.  And you were smart to check in with us."

Why do they target us?  Because they think we're gullible or trust "authority" too easily?  Or don't know enough about technology (or the IRS, etc., etc.)?  Or are too passive or polite or weary to challenge them?  

Well, I derive some satisfaction in knowing "Kevin" won't think this senior gullible or passive or totally ignorant about computers!  Certainly not too polite.

My only regret is that I didn't capture "Kevin's" telephone number so I could find a way to report him and whomever he is working with/for.  I know that blocking such calls is an option.  I've researched the ways to do so and will be because there are other battles I am more invested in fighting.  But I do so reluctantly, because it only protects me, while doing little to put these predators out of business.

So, until such calls are blocked, or if any get through, I will answer and I will respond - actively.

Note:
 You can register your numbers on the national Do Not Call list by phone or on the Internet at no cost. To register via the Internet, go to www.donotcall.gov. To register by phone, call 1-888-382-1222 (voice) or 1-866-290-4236 (TTY). You must call from the phone number you wish to register.

Bah Humbug

"I don't have pet peeves; I have whole kennels of irritation."

~Whoopi Goldberg

My commitment to be realistically optimistic has been sorely tried these past days, what with news from and about San Bernadino, Chicago, and Baltimore.  So I'm taking a break and venting.  Hoping that by doing so, the air from my balloon of discontent will be released.  My "kennels of irritation" include:

drivers who pass on the right

private conversations held in public

commercials in which anyone is demeaned in the name of humor

this excruciatingly long and nasty political campaign

political candidates who don't answer the questions asked of them

interviewers who let them get away with it

people who demand respect while being disrespectful to others

opinion masquerading as fact

diatribe posing as debate

the atmosphere of extreme polarization 

sweeping generalizations 

hearsay repeated as truth

rights without responsibilities

assertions without evidence

labeling that diminishes and isolates

But most of all,I am distressed by the current hate and fear mongering that brings back the horrors of Joseph McCarthy and HUAC - and the knowledge that too many Americans know very little about this period of our history and the damage that was done to individuals, our trust in our government, and our reputation in the name of protecting America.  Am I just showing my age?