Required Reading for the Betterment of Society

I'm convinced book people should take over the world.

I've actually put a lot of time into thinking about this. For years I have maintained that if I were a dictator, citizens under my rule would have mandatory reading for the betterment of society. The assigned readings wouldn't be dense or obscure, they would be accessible to as many in the population as possible. I'd offer optional readings for different levels and, of course, everyone would be encouraged to do as much 'free-will' reading as possible. Literature wouldn't come from just one genre and required reading for the betterment of society would include both fiction and non-fiction. For those with reading disabilities or vision issues, audio books would be available. I'd be a benevolent dictator, after all.

Think about it. There would be no more mind-numbing reality TV. Nobody would care what inane people with no real talent were doing. They'd be too busy reading. Intelligence reducing twenty-four hour news cycles would be obsolete. People wouldn't have time to listen to factless drivel. It would be a calmer, gentler, smarter, quieter period in which people expanded their minds, increased their compassion, and generally exercised civility. Society would be better, I'm sure.

Because book people are nice.

Okay, I may be speaking in gross generalities here but I'm pretty sure I'm on to something. I've figured it out after years of observing book people at a local library annual used book sale. The sale is huge. Books are everywhere. Readers flock to the sale en masse.

(Source: Google Images)

Table after table is lined with books of every type. Fiction. Non-fiction. Classics. Mysteries. Cookbooks. Children's literature. It is all there. Some books are older. Some are newer. Some are foreign. Some are simple. Some are complex. Some contain hate. Some contain love. And they all mingle together with only loose classifications. It isn't unusual to find a love story set in Burma amid the travel books, or a romance novel cozied up to the cookbooks. Their links may be loose, but somehow they find themselves together co-existing under the general 'species,' books.

At the book sale, shoppers browse up and down the rows with little personal space, but an abundance of patience. If someone lingers in a particular area, the other browsers simply say, excuse me, and go around. I've never heard anyone yell. Never seen anyone push. Not even an exasperated sigh. Occasionally, a shopper will pick up a book by a particular author only to have the stranger standing next to them ask if they have read anything else by that writer. If the answer is no, they recommend one. If the answer is yes, they briefly discuss the merits of the tome. Sometimes there are outbursts of joy when a particular book finds its reader. Sometimes shoppers search for a copy of a much desired book for another bibliophile they just met. Their links may be loose, but somehow they find themselves co-existing under the general species,'reader.'

Mystery readers don't disparage those who immerse themselves in historical fiction. Readers who hang out in the science section never mock the ones who love classics. It's a caring place; the book sale. The books are peaceful. The patrons are kind. Differences abounds. But then, so does respect. Maybe we should all consider behaving like book people in our regular, everyday lives, regardless of our religious beliefs, racial differences, or political dispositions. Maybe we should show more compassion. More patience. More kindness.

Because our links may be loose, but somehow we find ourselves co-existing under the general species, 'human.'

Mommie Dearest's Whole New World

Heed my advice. Do not give a person with dementia a cell phone programmed to speed dial your number at the push of one button. If you do, it is entirely possible that every day the person with dementia will discover, anew, they can call you in an instant. Chances are, they will use this new found skill over and over and over. All day. Every day.

This advice was born of my own ill conceived idea to purchase a cell phone for Mommie Dearest so she could have it at the assisted living facility where we recently moved her. 

Live and learn.

For some time now I have been thinking that we needed to move my mom to a higher level of care. Her worsening dementia was making it hard to keep her in an independent living situation. Granted, the facility she was living in was for senior citizens but it was for those who could largely care for themselves. When we moved her to Colorado she was fairly capable of doing so, but over time her independence became more and more of a burden. I knew something needed to change.

During a recent visit with my siblings we decided to pursue an appropriate assisted living facility for our mom. We visited a few facilities and found the place we felt would be just perfect for Mommie Dearest. It had all of the important amenities: staff to administer daily medications, a cook to prepare and serve meals, weekly happy hour with wine. Men.

Or so I thought.

In reality the men aren't very plentiful in this new living arrangement. I was deceived by the man who lives across the hall from my mother, thinking he was representative of a larger male population. Turns out he is one of only two. Honestly though, It doesn't seem to matter that much.  Mommie Dearest has lost some of her zeal for wooing men. It was one of the first signs things were digressing. It was as if she forgot that she liked to be the center of all male attention. She even started forgetting to go to happy hour. Malaise about wooing men and not registering opportunities to guzzle boxed wine from a Styrofoam cup? These were bad signs. 

We took our mom to visit the new residence and she was surprisingly amenable to the idea. She gave it a slightly crooked, arthritic thumbs up and I set a plan in motion.  It all seemed remarkably easy. Until it wasn't. But that's the way it is with Mommie Dearest. One minute things are going along just fine and the next minute we've entered a whole new reality and I haven't recognized the switch. Admittedly, I have a little trouble keeping up.   

Within days of my giving notice that she would be moving out of the independent living facility, staff started mentioning that my mother was telling them she rescinded the notice. I got daily phone calls from her saying that she was not moving and that was that. She dug her heels in. Truth be told, however, she didn't dig very far or fight very hard. In the end, she moved with very little kicking and screaming. Either she forgot she likes to make things as difficult for me as possible or, maybe, like chasing men, she just doesn't have the stamina anymore. I'm not sure.

She's in her new place now, no longer in a two-room apartment but in her own bedroom within a large house. She gets loving care and reminders, all day long, to do the important things like eat lunch and play Bingo. She mentions the sparse male population regularly but it is seemingly more out of habit than any real desire. She doesn't appear to even remember where she lived just days ago. 

I put sticky note reminders all around her room, including one that tells her to press 2 on her cell phone if she wants to call me. Every day she discovers how to call me again. It's a perpetual surprise.

Sometimes I feel guilty that I like this simple-minded Mommie Dearest with her Swiss cheese memory a little better than the narcissistic, mean-spirited woman who raised me. Then I remind myself that guilt is a useless emotion. Feel what you feel. Besides, being with my mom helps with my never ending quest for life balance. Watching her slowly drift away reminds me that everything in life is a cycle. Change is inevitable and constant. Every day I get older. We all do. That's the way it is supposed to be. Holding on to youth is impossible, so I'm learning to embrace aging. Sort of. Most days.

Until my grey roots start showing.

For the most part, I'm thankful for this phase of life with my mother. She, unintentionally, reminds me to live intentionally, and breathe in the life I've been given. I appreciate the lesson. It is good to remember that the problems I'm solving at work, the relationship challenges I'm navigating at home, or the finances that will seemingly never be enough to retire with, are all fleeting. All that truly matters is how I live in the here and now.

I live with intention today, because at some point I too might be discovering the magic of speed dial. All day. Every day.

Politics, Decency, and Rainbow Sprinkles

Thank God for rainbow sprinkles. Everybody knows they make everything better.

Okay, maybe everybody doesn't know that. And maybe they don't make everything better.  But the other day, when I was feeling utterly dismayed, an internal force demanded that I buy frosted donuts with colorful sprinkles.

I complied. It seemed the only reasonable thing to do. 

Last Friday morning, as I readied myself for work, I decided to stop on my way into the office and buy donuts. My staff had been working hard and they were all exceedingly tired. In the world of the college recruiter, the early months of a new year are particularly taxing. Having criss-crossed the United States, attended dozens of college fairs, and talked with thousands of people, I knew my delightful little crew was feeling road weary. They needed a boost and a thank you. But I didn't want to ply only my direct reports with sugar, flour, and fat; I figured everyone in the office would enjoy some tasty, greasy, albeit empty calories.

As I drove to the donut shop I did what I do every morning and turned on my car radio to catch up on the latest news. I listened in horror. Not the kind of horror one feels when something unthinkable happens and lives are lost. Not the kind of horror rendered by vengeful supernatural beings. No, this was a horror provoked by the behavior of political candidates who aspire to lead our country. 

I use the word lead loosely.

I listened in horror as I heard grown men bullying, making fun, chiding, speaking vile and ugly things. Making up lies. Talking over one another. This was the reality TV of politics. And these are the people who want to take over leadership of our country???

There was nothing in their behavior that represents leadership.  Not. One. Thing. Although I rarely think shame is a good or called for emotion, in this case, those men should be ashamed. Deeply. To their core. I fear they aren't ashamed in the least. As I listened to the recorded clips of their appalling public display I was utterly horrified, disgusted, and terribly disheartened. What a degrading display of immaturity. 

Lead our country???

In a world that seems increasingly nasty and rude, where dignity and grace fade into the background of vulgarity, I would hope that the very people who desire positions of leadership would present humility and self-respect. A leader makes the world a better place. Instead this group of men bowed to the antics of the most debased, tasteless, lowest common denominator, demeaned themselves, and demonstrated behavior unsuitable for even the most ill-behaved children. It was sad. It was discouraging. It was coarse and uncivilized and represented everything a leader should not be. 

Listening to the news made me feel desperate. Surely this can't be. Granted many politicians have behaved in less than becoming ways. But this?  This was as inglorious a display as we have ever seen. Surely we are so much better than this.

It was truly disheartening. I stopped at the donut shop and did the only thing I knew to do. I not only bought donuts, I bought the most brightly colored, rainbow sprinkled donuts available. I specified that I wanted the prettiest donuts on the shelf. I watched as the woman behind the counter carefully selected each donut and gingerly placed it in the box. When she picked up one with white frosting and brown chocolate sprinkles I stopped her and asked that she include only the ones with colored sprinkles. I didn't tell her that the world felt very dark and sad and the only thing I could think to do in my moment of despair was to treat my coworkers to something vibrant and celebratory. Not because I celebrated the moronic behavior of the politicians who had so badly degraded themselves and our country, but because it was the only positive thing I could think to do in the moment. I had to do something light to counter their dark, ugly, negative, destructive behavior. Rainbow sprinkles were all I had. 

At work I made a little sign that said, "Have a donut. Because you can. 😊" and left it next to the brilliant display of cheerful little donuts.  A few people thanked me and, although I make it my policy not to discuss politics with anyone outside of my family or my closest and kindest friends, I did mention that the sprinkles were my response to deep sadness I was feeling while looking at the political horizon. 

They all understood.

All of my coworkers; hard working, caring, passionate, kind and decent people, who will never be President of the United States understood why rainbow sprinkles were so important that day. 

Nobody chided me. Nobody bullied me. Or made fun of me. Or talked over me. Nobody lied about me or acted like a belligerent, insecure child. Nobody scattered water around and mocked me for sweating. They all had compassion for my despair. And they all said thank you.

Because they are decent human beings.