Guest Bloggers – Page 45 – Disney Leadership Keynote Speaker

Midlife Sandwiches

“Sandwiches”, by Lorie Sheffer.

“When we were kids, did you ever think we would grow up to become sandwiches, because that’s what we are,” my friend told me.

The Sandwich Generation is the term used to describe us. There are several types on the menu, too.

The Traditional: Those of us who are caring for aging parents as well as our own children who are still living at home.

The Club: Those in their 50s and 60s who are caring for aging parents, their own adult children and their grandchildren. Or people in their 30s and 40s who are caring for their own young children, parents and grandparents.

Open Faced: Anyone involved in elder care.

According to a Pew Research Poll, 1 in 8 American’s aged 40 – 60 is involved in elder-care.

I thought of this when I sat in at my father’s bedside and my daughter brought my grandson in for a visit. Up until June of this year Dad was very independent. It was sometimes difficult to get in touch with my parents because they were always out doing something. Since the day he was born, I cared for my grandson while his parents worked and I drove to his house every day to get him off of the school bus when he started school. He’s 10 now and he is used to seeing me almost every day. “I miss you. When can we have a sleepover?” he asked me. My daughter has a more flexible work schedule now, so I am trying to spend as much time with Dad as I can. I miss my grandson horribly. While neither my father nor grandson lives with me, I spend tremendous amounts of time with them. I miss my adult son, who lives 2 hours away and is a 4^th year medical student. Needless to say, he doesn’t have much extra time to come home, though he and his wife do try to squeeze in a trip as often as possible. I want to go to Philadelphia for the day and visit them and see their new house. We text one another and chat on the phone regularly, but those things don’t replace a hug. I hate to miss a day of visiting Dad, so my husband and I have not left the area this summer.

And so it goes. The Life of a Sandwich. It’s a familiar story. The characters differ, the setting and circumstances are not quite the same, but the core of the story remains. It is stressful and it is demanding and it is draining. But at the heart of it, there are people in our lives for whom we feel a deep love and sense of commitment.

(Lane 8 blog)

Ones You Had When You Were 12

Lorie Sheffer has been a Guest Blogger here at Mid Life Celebration for so many weeks in a row, I can’t imagine Sunday’s here without her. Take it away Lorie:

“I never had friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone?” That line is from one of my favorite movies, Stand By Me, which was based on the novella The Body, by Stephen King.

How often do you think of your childhood friends? Are you still in contact with them? My parents are both in their late seventies and they are still friends with many of the same people they grew up with. One of my dad’s best friends from high school is now a hospital volunteer. One night as I was leaving at the end of visiting hours, I ran into Fred as he was coming in. “Just thought I’d sit with him for awhile. I know how bad it gets in here at night.” Although the two of them had run into one another at class reunions over the years they weren’t in constant contact, yet their bond remains.

Even though I now live only a half hour drive from the same house I grew up in, I lost touch with all of my childhood friends. I think that my desire to reconnect was dampened when I contacted one of them and was horribly disappointed. What can you do when someone sits across the table from you and spews bigoted hatred and disgust toward groups of people who you hold close to your heart? Clearly she would not want to be a part of my world any more than I would have the desire to allow her into it. I felt a wave of sadness for the lovely childhood memories that had just been destroyed. Sometimes it is best to leave the past exactly there, in the past.

Several years had gone by since that unfortunate encounter, when I saw a very familiar name on Facebook. I had remembered Jeff since first grade. He had always been The Adorable Nice Guy. Sometimes handsome high school star athletes have a problem dealing with their attractiveness. He never did. In fact, he didn’t even seem to notice. How heartbreaking it would be if he had now become a creep. I took a deep breath and contacted him. I could tell by his reply that he was still the nice kid I remembered, married to his college sweetheart and the father of a little boy just as adorable as I remember him to be. YAY! My faith was restored.

Next week I am planning to have dinner with an old friend. We met in first grade and I have not seen her since we both attended the funeral of a dear mutual friend twenty-one years ago. She was as silly as I was, and because we lived such a short distance from one another we were together quite a bit. We had sleepovers in the summer and went to the same community pool. We cried over boys and shopped and went to movies. We confided our deepest secrets and laughed till we cried. We sang a duet of Midnight Train to Georgia every time it played over the car radio. I ran into her sister last week and she gave me contact information. Via a series of emails, I told my old friend to choose the time and place. I told her that I hope when we both get to the restaurant we recognize one another. For some reason, I have a feeling that we will pick up right about where we left off. You never have friends later on like the ones you had when you were twelve.

(next blog)

What Determines Who You Are?

We all wait patiently for Sunday, to see what our Guest Blogger, Lorie Sheffer has to say. Here she is, enjoy:

I was watching a litter of stray kittens that live in my parents’ back yard, and it struck me how even in the animal world, personality is evident from a very early age. Among those kittens there is the shy one, the daredevil, the social one, and the aggressor. I am hoping to get them all tame enough to find homes. As I watched them interact, I thought how much they are like humans. We all have family dynamics, and our roles change little, if at all, through the years. Nothing brings those dynamics to the surface like group stress.

“You can’t see the forest for the trees.” Sometimes when we are part of the group or family on a daily basis, it is difficult for us to see what our role is. We are too close to get a good view. If we step back and are no longer part of that group, then return, the dynamics are as clear as day.

My mother just turned 77 years old. Her eldest sister is 88 and her middle sister passed away two years ago at the age of 82. When the three of them were in a room together it was clear what their roles had always been. They still knew what buttons to push. Apparently it never ends. “She was always such a spoiled brat!” “You were always a goody-goody suck up!” “No wonder you always got into trouble.”

My husband has clearly always been The Rebel. By that, I mean that he is able to set boundaries and to be the voice of reason. It is clear he is almost shunned within his family because of his ability to do so. I seem to be The Mediator. I hate conflict. I am hypersensitive to tension. I can spot an argument before the first voice is raised. It can be exhausting. I’ve discovered that some of my lifelong anxiety comes from my anticipation of an argument or conflict. I wasn’t raised in an abusive family, but I was raised within a big extended family where conflict was inevitable. I want everyone to be kind. I don’t care for labels, but it really does seem that some of them exist for a reason. I don’t know if we behave the way we do because we are trying to fit the label we were given or if the label was given to us because of the consistent behavior we have shown.

I believe that people do have the ability to change, but that our core personalities, just like the personalities of that litter of stray kittens, is set at a very early age. Anyone who has more than one of their own children will tell you, even though two children have the same set of parents and are raised in the same home, they can be total opposites. What is your role within your family? Think back to when you were a child, and then take a look at what your role is now. Have you really changed all that much? When you visit with family, do you see everyone falling back into those old dynamics? There is a reason that shows like Roseanne and Everybody Loves Raymond, as well as movies like Christmas Vacation and Home for the Holidays are such hits. We can all relate.

Scroll down for bonus post.

Midlife, What’s To Celebrate?

Midlife, what’s to celebrate, by Blogger Lorie Sheffer:

Midlife Celebration. Sometimes we wonder what there is to feel celebratory about. Life can seem so hectic we find it hard to find the time to sit for a few minutes and enjoy some quiet time. We may wait for a reason to go out for dinner or take that day off. We wait for a real reason to celebrate. We wait for an occasion.

If you woke up today and were able to sit up in bed, swing your feet to the floor and walk across the room, you have a reason to celebrate. If you didn’t need help showering, brushing your teeth or using the toilet, you have a reason to celebrate. If you could reach down and pick up the morning paper from your doorstep, look at the sky and then go inside to brew yourself a pot of coffee, you have a reason to celebrate. If you could smell your breakfast and feed yourself, if you were able to chew and swallow, you have a reason to celebrate. If you can breathe without a ventilator, you have a reason to celebrate.

Sometimes we take for granted those little things we do every day, so easily and without a thought, until we are no longer able to do them.

I am on week six of spending an average of six hours a day, at least five days a week, with people who can’t do some of those things we take for granted. Sometimes I feel tired and stressed. When I leave for the day, I walk through those hospital doors into the sun or the rain. I look at the gorgeous crepe myrtle that is planted around the perimeter of the parking garage, and then I see the coneflowers and ornamental grasses and small trees that fill the landscaped areas. I breathe in the summer air. I hear birds and cars and people talking. I hear and see life outside. I think of the people in the hospital behind me. My thighs may be larger than I would like, my rear end wider, but I am walking. I am leaving. I get in my car and I drive away, putting more and more miles between me and Them. I drive into the real world, a world where people are pissed off because they can’t find a parking place that is close to the entrance. People who think it a hardship to have to run to their car in the rain. I now see those things as a privilege. When I walk in to my house and see the sink full of dirty dishes that I left I actually feel blessed to be able to stand at the sink and wash them.

Take time today to celebrate. If you had a boring, uneventful day, then you have a reason to celebrate. If you had to mow your lawn, clean your house, wash your car, or do laundry, and you did so without assistance, you have a reason to celebrate. You have a reason to feel filled with joy and to feel blessed. You have reason to thank God for the glorious day, and you have reason to celebrate.

(next blog)

Who Cursed Us?

Guest Blogger Lorie Sheffer:

My mother and I were leaving the hospital a few days ago, and she wondered out loud who put a curse on our family. I knew what she meant, but I asked her to explain anyway. Within the past two years, her sister died from Alzheimer’s, my brother was diagnosed with colon cancer and had to go through two surgeries and six months of chemo, my mother in law died, a beloved family friend died, my husband’s cousin (my good friend whom I have blogged about) died, and now my father has been in the ICU for four weeks and a regular room for one (so far). Believe it or not, that is only a partial list.

“What do you mean, who cursed us? I think we’re blessed.” She looked at me as though I were slightly out of my mind. Then I gave her my take.

She had her sister as her best friend for 76 years. My brother recovered and has been given really good odds that he is cured. My mother in law lived to see her grandchildren grow to adulthood and she died at home as she had wished. Our family friend was a robust 85 years old and died suddenly without pain or suffering in the exact same spot where her husband had died years before her. I feel fortunate that I got to know my husband’s cousin and share such fun times with her; she taught us things about life we otherwise would never have known.

As for my dad, we just spent the day with a man whose surgeon said had a less than 50% chance of surviving only 5 weeks before.

We were told to gather the family and call in anyone from out of town who may want to be with us; now we call one another to see who was going in to visit him and when. I told Mom we can’t lose sight of the positive. My husband can’t run since he had his stroke 14 years ago. He misses it. But if he dwells on having a hitch in his gait then he misses the blessing of being able to walk and to ride his bike. He can’t run, but he can ski. His arm is stiff, but it is functional. He lived to see everything that has happened in the last 14 years with his family. He is blessed. We are blessed.

Bad things happen. That’s life. I’m not saying I haven’t had my share of tears and days when I don’t feel like I can manage to put one foot in front of the other. I’ve had to dig deep lately, that’s for sure. I also know that things are what they are. One day, while driving to Baltimore for my husband’s physical therapy, I saw a billboard with an advertisement that has stuck with me. Wisdom from unexpected places, I suppose. It said, “You cannot change the direction of the wind, but you can adjust your sails.”