“I will always love him, no matter what! I don’t believe the FBI report!”
Those were statements I heard that were made about a public figure involved in a current, ongoing investigation. While I certainly can respect and understand loyalty, I don’t understand the concept of thinking that we know someone we have never even met. I suppose we have all done it at some time or another. We have become attached to a public figure, be it in the entertainment industry, sports or politics. When that person, the person we claim to “know” does something to fall from grace, we are stunned. We can’t believe it! And yet if we are honest, we have to admit that we never knew the real person. We may have known the public persona, but we didn’t know the actual person. We never met them face-to-face, we never had a conversation with them, never sat down to dinner with them. But we thought we knew them. And so we will defend them against all credible evidence that shows them as someone other than our ideal.
When we teach our kids what a stranger is, what do we tell them? Most dictionaries define the word as “someone with whom one has had no personal acquaintance.”
Do we somehow look to a public figure as an ideal of what we want and hope them to be? Do we really “love” this person, or do we love the image of them, which we have conjured in our imagination? Do we really know them any better than a stranger we see on the street?
I’m writing this on Saturday morning, at 1:49 AM. I have only slept about 4 hours since Wednesday night, when my cat, Gracie, got out of the house. We brought her in as a stray almost exactly a year ago. Wednesday was unseasonably warm, and I asked my husband to open a window for some fresh air while I was restoring some antique furniture. He forgot that in the fall I had put the screens up. Cats are curious, and about an hour later we were trying to coax Gracie from under the deck. She bolted, as frightened cats will do, and vanished into thin air.
We stayed up all night, calling out into the night and printing out flyers. We canvassed the neighborhood and set food out for her. Nothing. I am rather severely claustrophobic, but I crawled under decks on my stomach, hitting my head on the supports. I have the bruised, swollen knees and cuts to prove it.
My life hasn’t been so easy over the past years. I know that we all have our losses and challenges, but it seems that I was dealt so much, and all at once. My cats are my comfort. I always say that I am only a pair of smelly terry cloth scruffs and a flower printed housedress away from being The Crazy Cat Lady. Little by little, my faith has eroded. I just spoke to Jeff about how I feel that praying is like having a conversation with myself.
Tonight we were taking cat-watching shifts. Gary was sleeping on the sofa and I was texting my daughter. She asked if I was still calling for Gracie. I said, “This is like praying- you keep calling but you never get even the slightest response. Which leads you to the conclusion you’re just talking to yourself.” She replied, “But what if she DOES hear you?” I shot back, “I have lost faith. If she comes home that will be an unexpected surprise. But I don’t think she ever will.”
With that, I went to the patio door and called into the night for what seemed like the thousandth time. The neighbors must love me! This time I thought I heard a faint meow. I called again. Nothing. I called yet again, thinking I had probably heard our other cat meowing from the dining room. This time I heard a louder sound from the back yard. I woke Gary and told him to come listen. After several more calls back and forth, I saw her walking toward me. She circled the pool cover a few times and then ran into my arms.
As we age, we lose our sensation of thirst. I was surprised to learn that, but trust that it’s true, as the information came from a nephrologist. Dehydration is all too common among the elderly, and it can have devastating affects. One of the reasons older folks become dehydrated is because they don’t feel thirsty, and when they do drink they don’t drink nearly as much. Sometimes not wanting to get up to use the bathroom during the night is another reason they tend not to want to drink enough water.
Our bodies are about 60%-70% water. In fact, our brains are closer to 90% water. If we feel the thirst sensation, we are already slightly dehydrated. Often times when we are feeling fatigued it is because we are in need of water. Dehydration can also be the cause of headaches. In fact, that is really what a hangover is.
As we age, we are less able to distinguish the difference between thirst and hunger. Often times we will eat a snack, when all we really needed was a glass of water. If saving those calories isn’t enough to make us want to pour a beverage, then maybe pain reduction is. Drinking more water can mean less muscle and joint pain. One time I complained about how difficult it was for the technicians to find a vein when I go for those early morning, after 12-hour fast, blood tests. My son suggested I try drinking a full glass of water before heading to the lab. Sure enough, it worked!
Since we loose that sensation of thirst as we age, and we as mid-lifers are aging, then maybe getting into the habit of drinking more water would be something we should start to work on now. In fact, as we work on breaking those bad habits, replacing them with good habits would make things easier. Replacing that afternoon candy bar with a tall glass of iced green tea would seem as if we weren’t depriving ourselves, but rather swapping treats. A tall icy glass of water with a few slices of cucumber is surprisingly refreshing. If it’s chilly outside, then a pot of tea, made the British way with loose tea in a pretty teapot, can seem like a luxury. At least if we have to have that cookie we can have it the old fashioned way, with a big glass of cold low fat milk. If we really do just want to eat a snack, then at least we can make it something that has a high water content, like watermelon or other juicy fruit.
Out of all of the things on our “should do” list, drinking more water or liquids is one of the easiest. No excuses.
In today’s world, lack of sleep is almost like a badge of honor. People proudly declare their ability to function on much less than the recommended 8 hours, as if this somehow makes them less lazy than the rest of us. If we are up all night it adds to the martyrdom of the overworked and underappreciated.
In an effort to keep this post from reaching epic lengths, I suggest that Googling the phrase “lack of sleep” will lead to you some very interesting information on the effects of sleep deprivation. An example of one thing I learned is this; Driving while sleep deprived can actually make you less safe than driving while intoxicated. Not many people would think that driving under the influence of alcohol is a good idea, and yet they will drive under the influence of sleep deprivation.
We live in a culture that doesn’t place much value on sleep. Jeff told me of his summer job working at a paper mill. He worked the dreaded swing shift, which consisted of 7AM-3PM, then a week of 11PM-7AM, followed by 3PM-11AM. 7 days a week, all summer long. (DUDE! No WONDER we didn’t see much of you at the pool!) My son is a first year medical resident, and his hours are not much different than Jeff’s were at that paper mill. He will work several weeks of night shifts, followed by a weekend of days, then a week of night shift, followed by a weekend of days. It’s difficult to become acclimated when the hours are so irregular. In his case, he resorts to blacking out the windows of his guest room during the day, and puts a priority on getting at least 8 hours of sleep a night.
Sleep is restorative. It is when the body repairs itself. The harmful physical effects of lack of sleep are very real. We NEED to sleep. It keeps us more clear- headed, our moods more even, and it even helps our appearance. And yet so many of us don’t make it a priority. Yes, it is important to exercise. Yes, it is important to be productive in our lives. But we are much better able to do that with the proper rest. During a particularly stressful period of my life, I wound up so run down from lack of sleep that I ended up in my doctor’s office. One of the first things he asked me was how much sleep I was getting. I told him that I didn’t have a choice but to wake up with the 6AM alarm. He reminded me that even if waking time wasn’t within my control, bedtime was. I said that I tried really hard to force myself to relax and sleep, and he came back with something that was so logical and so basic that it kind of shocked me. He said we can’t force ourselves to sleep; we must ALLOW ourselves to sleep.
Mary Linda circa 1948 (photo: Lorie Sheffer collection)
This is the time of year when we celebrate traditions. Some of us may have lavish Christmas celebrations, including parties, family gatherings and religious services. Others of us may spend the season more quietly, with understated observance. There are also people who celebrate non-Christian holidays, while others don’t celebrate at all. Even with all the variations of the season, it’s hard to find anyone who doesn’t have some type of traditional way to spend time during the month of December.
My family started a favorite tradition over ten years ago. We would always set aside a night between Christmas and New Year’s for a special night of celebration. We would have dinner, the menu running the culinary gamut from Italian to Chinese. We’d have the always anticipated gift exchange. This was our special not-on-actual-Christmas-Eve Christmas, to be celebrated when and how we chose, with one of our very favorite relatives. Her eccentricity always made things memorable. There was the year of Y2K, when she poked fun at the Chicken Littles of the world. I got a space blanket, a basket of tinned meats and bottled water, candles and a wind up flashlight, as well as a copy of the book “How to Survive Anything, Anywhere”. There was the year of the stress-relief gifts, the year of the bath gifts, the year of the vanilla themed gifts. The gifts, always a theme, were purchased on the streets of Manhattan and toted by subway, taxi and a four hour bus ride to our home. They were wrapped with care, often with hand made decorations, usually packed into recycled frozen soft pretzel or Saltine boxes.
Last year my son and his wife had to head back to their home early to avoid the forecasted snowstorm. While I missed having those extra days with them, it made the fact that this would be the first year we would not be sharing our special Not on Actual Christmas night slightly more bearable. This year, his hospital night shift will once again mean that our Christmas week is going to be way off schedule. Still, I know that we would have somehow made our night happen. She would have extended her stay to make sure of it. But now there is a huge empty space to fill.
Every family has traditions. Sometimes we have to change them. This year, I know that my family will be thinking back to those special celebrations. It’s still too soon to think back on them and smile. Instead, I decided to fill that night with something totally different. It can never be the same, and trying to tweak it into something similar wouldn’t work at all. Instead, I have decided to celebrate the first night of Hanukkah. It will be a way to teach my grandson about part of his family tree. It will be a toned down, yet celebratory night; new foods, new music, new friends. Yet while I was shopping in preparation, I could almost hear her voice. “Hey! Don’t forget the dreidles! I know a place over on Second St that carries really nice ones! Geeze….. you have a menorah, right?” It will be different, and yet it will be the same.
