Driving with Parkinson’s Disease

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On the first day of vacay, just come back from the beach, sandy and relaxed, I got Chris’s phone call with the bad news.

After I drove myself and the kids to our flight out of JFK, Chris took the driver’s seat. About five minutes later, he rear-ended a car. It was on the ramp from the airport to the highway (the Long Island Expressway?). He had been fiddling with the radio and didn’t see the car stopped at the red light in front of him.

The airbags inflated. No one was hurt. Our car was totaled. Chris told me, “My driving days may be limited.”

That night after I got that call, I didn’t sleep well. It didn’t ruin my vacation. It just felt like a signpost on the unhappy road of the progress of Chris’s Parkinson’s Disease. (He’s had PD nine years now.) Parkinson’s is a steady decline.

I have not enjoyed driving with Chris for years. Lately, he could hardly drive a city block without me clutching the dashboard or pressing my foot on a phantom break. I tried to bite my tongue, but often blurted out, “Look out!”

So, when we were together in the car, I always drove, especially with the kids in the car.

This is tough stuff. But I’m glad I didn’t have to tell him, point-blank, “I think your driving sucks.” How do tell someone that? It feels terrible. Yet, it would feel even worse if there had been a serious accident and I’d have to apologize to some stranger, knowing as I did, that his driving sucked. Maybe a small fender-bender is a blessing in disguise.

When you live with someone who is chronically ill, you have to pick your battles. You have to witness a decline. And you often don’t want to speak your truth.

You have to take over the driving. Sometimes it’d be nice to doze in the passenger seat and trust that the driver’s doing just fine. That doesn’t happen when you’re married to someone with Parkinson’s. At least, it doesn’t happen for me.

He can drive other things, but he can’t drive the family car. For that matter, neither can I. Because we don’t have one any more.

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Easter Parade

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For the first time in my 30 years of living in NYC, I went to the Easter Parade on Fifth Avenue. I wanted to see the pretty hats and dressy pups, but there were also magicians and street dancers and ice cream vendors. So fricken’ fun. So free.

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Fifth Avenue was closed today, Easter Sunday afternoon, just so we could stroll — to see and be seen.

What’s not to love?

Social Media Workshop in Philly

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Beth Buchanan and I are taking our social media show on the road.

After our Social Media Mania workshop last fall in Albuquerque at the United Methodist Association of Communicators (UMAC), we’re excited to be asked to lead the workshop for the annual convention for the Religion Communicators Council (RCC) in Philadelphia from April 12 to 14.

Along with our cool Prezi show and our overview on social media, we’re adding a piece on how social media drives social and global movements.

How does social media influence public opinion? Look at the power of social media in terms of justice for Trayvon Martin, the Arab Spring, the Kony 2012 video, financial support for Susan G. Komen, and even the Occupy Wall Street movement. Weak-tie connections? Hardly. Social media makes an impact.

We’re also going to strategize on specific ways to make your own personal goals on social media happen.

Join our workshop on Thursday, April 12 at 3:45 pm, or Saturday, April 14 at 2 pm, or stop by the convention any time.

While the three-day event is offered by the Religion Communicators Council, non-profit communicators, social media junkies, connectors, and wannabes are all welcome!

Lots of cool people to network with! So, work that net!

It’s fun to meet IRL (in real life)! So join us!

BTW, Beth and I are still discussing whether our Twitter hashtag should be #rcc2012 or #rcc12 But we’ll probably go with the shortest hashtag because that’s what @bjbuc recommends.

Learn more about the RCC and register at the Workshops for Communicators.

Emotional Intelligence

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Last night I saw the Diane Keaton movie, Darling Companion, which will open April 20th.  

It’s a dog lover’s movie. And that’s not me. The movie is also a valentine to the older, sensitive male, played by Richard Jenkins.

Kevin Kline plays a know-it-all doctor who lacks the Jenkins character’s smooth ease with people. (Jenkins is, also, according to Dianne Wiest’s character, a “generous lover.” I love Wiest’s and Jenkins’ sexy-ness!)

At one point, Kline is chastised for his lack of emotional intelligence. And I think emotional intelligence is underrated.

My daughters and I are still reaping the rewards of a girl empowerment weekend, where we were able to talk freely about our feelings. We learned how to navigate conflict — an awesome learning experience through the Girls Leadership Institute.

A February opinion piece in the New York Times, Building Self-Control, the American Way by Sandra Aamodt and Sam Wang, offered this: “programs to enhance social and emotional development accelerate school achievement.”

So emotional intelligence helps with school intelligence. I don’t think we can underestimate the importance of helping our kids handle their emotions — it’s just smart to be aware of and articulate our feelings well.

In the Times article, the authors prescribe imaginative play, aerobic exercise, and studying language as tools to help children succeed emotionally and intellectually.

As for ageing adults, like Kevin Kline’s character, how do they (we) become more emotionally intelligent? In Darling Companion, the advice was to:

  • value our pets more than our cell phones;
  • define ourselves in ways beyond our work;
  • get lost in nature;
  • and be open to prophetic wisdom from people we consider marginal or flaky.

Sugar Blues

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Last night on 60 Minutes, I watched some excellent reporting on the hazards of sugar in our daily diets.

I needed to be reminded because, like most Americans, I need to cut down (out!) my sugar intake.

The information was not new to me. In high school, I read Sugar Blues and it changed the way I ate. The bestseller showed how a diet high in sugar was addictive and pernicious. Beyond obesity and diabetes, sugar was shown to cause mood swings or an emotional crash an hour or so after indulging.

Yet biologically, we are wired to love sugar — there’s nothing sweeter than mother’s milk.

I cannot cut sugar out entirely. I’m not giving up a glass of red wine, a thin slice of chocolate cake, or fruit yogurt. But I am going to slim down my portions.

I will try to follow the government’s recommendation on the food plate (formerly, the food pyramid). I think eating a variety of healthy foods, with an occasional sweet thrown in, is best.

There’s nothing better than an apple, a strawberry, or a handful of blueberries to satisfy a sweet craving. I’m constantly amazed that something so good tasting can also be so good for you. Because it’s way better to eat an orange than to drink orange juice, I’m cutting out fruit juices too.

Thanks 60 Minutes for this healthy reminder.

Letting Go of Gossip

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This Lent, I gave up gossip. This has been tough. I miss the way gossip clarifies your values. It’s like when you watch Nanny 911 and you feel so good and smug about your own parenting skills. You think to yourself, “I would never do THAT!” (But let’s admit, we’ve all done much worse. We just, thankfully, did not have a camera crew following us and recording our parenting failures! Not too worry, those incidents will be remembered by our children who will blame us for years to come.)

In the fall, I met a church executive who told me she left church work for a while to sell Mary Kay cosmetics when her husband was in the military. She said in the Mary Kay biz, you were not allowed to gossip or criticize one another. (I don’t know how they enforce this). But she said it was a good and productive way to work and that she wished she could do this again now that she’s returned to church work.

I know there are positive sides to gossip — studies show it can bind community members together and other studies show that gossip lowers your heart rate. Whatever. From my own experience, gossip undermines creativity and productivity and inhibits trust in coworkers.

At work, I’ve felt stuck when a colleague wants to gossip about another colleague. I have no way to extricate myself.

Here I am at the work Christmas party. I hope I wasn't gossiping. (photo by J. Barnes)Should I?

1. Say nothing, which makes the gossiper think I agree so they keep on gossiping.

2. Say, “I hear you. But I gave up gossip for Lent, so, much as I’d like to join this gossip gravy train right now, I can’t.” No, this makes me feel all holier-than-thou.

3. Don’t talk to anyone. Umm, that’s not happening.

Without gossip, I’m losing an opportunity to bond.

On my Twitter feed the other day, another woman church executive wrote a tweet, something like, “We remember best the people who supported us most.” I want to be that person — the one remembered for being supportive, creative, and productive, not negative or gossipy.

I do want my heart rate lowered and I do want to bond with my colleagues. So after Easter, I may have to dive back in the gossip pool. Or I may not. There’s a lot to talk about besides each other. And there’s a lot to admire in one another. I’m a big fan of admiring my colleagues. And I want to keep admiring people more (not less).

But as one other coworker told me, “I never gossip. But you want to know who does???” (ba dum bum!)

Union Seminary

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At lunch time the other day, I walked around Union Theological Seminary, where the trees in the center courtyard were just past their full bloom, carpeting the lawn with their petals. This seminary is a hidden  jewel in New York City with its gorgeous arched passageways and quiet corridors.

The chapel is always a hub of colorful, creative worship with bright banners swooping down from the ceiling. The last time I was there, I was reporting on the Poverty Initiative, a movement that grew out of Martin Luther King Jr.’s Poor People’s Campaign.

As a writer, artist, worker, mother, wife of a chronically ill spouse and person of  faith, I am often looking for quiet and sanctuary, hoping for hidden nooks to reflect upon my life in the big, busy city and recharge my soul. Union Seminary is just such an oasis.

The Top 7 Things About Riverside Park

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  1. The smell of Christmas trees in the Spring mulch.
  2. The repaved main upper level from 97th to 116th – smooth sailing on my bike.
  3. The Hudson River, a big shouldered companion, to the pretty, flowery park.
  4. The rings at 106th. How awesome are they? The kids swing on them for hours. On some Saturdays and Sundays, someone sets up a balancing wire. Someone else brings Hula Hoops. And then there’s a boom box playing hip hop music.
  5. The benches for just sitting and watching the kids in strollers and all the dogs — big dogs, little dogs — on leashes. I am not a dog lover, but I admit they can be cute in Riverside Park.
  6. The empanada lady — I should learn her name. She is positioned right by the soccer fields at around 103rd and you’d think she was just selling ice cream bars and hot dogs, but ask for the empanadas or the arroz con pollo, and you won’t be disappointed.
  7. The lampposts, so Victorian.

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Going Running

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How do you psych yourself up to go for a run? I tell myself, “Come on, girl. You can do it.” I talk to my body like it were a beloved family horse. “Yes, get moving, Ole Paint. Get out of your easy chair.” (I know that’s a mixed metaphor: horses don’t sit in easy chairs! Hey, it’s my blog. Write your own blog and mix up your own metaphors!)

There are a million reasons NOT to run. Here are a few:

Florida flower1. My feet hurt.

2. I am slow.

3. No one else is running. (Everyone else is going out for breakfast, in fact.)

And here’s why:

1. It will feel good when you’re done.

2. You will see some new things.

3. You will model fitness for your kids.

4. When you’re done, you can have a big breakfast.

Maybe I’ll go wake up one of my kids and see if they want to go with me.

I am writing this from a rocking chair on the porch. The kids and I are on a four-day trip to Siesta Key, Florida. It is our third day and inertia has set in. After a few days of vacay, especially in a warm clime, inertia always sets in. I must beat back inertia as if it were a horse sitting in an easy chair. (That’s a horrible image. But there you have it. As I’ve said, inertia has set in and I am mentally lazy, can’t come up with a better image. I could, if I really tried. But I have to go running.)

Come on, girl. Let’s go.

Aging

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My birthday is coming up. Not really feeling it. I am no longer an ingénue, a wunderkid, a hot new writer. I hope I hit my stride before Amy Clampitt did. But hey, she hit it big at 63, publishing her first book of poetry and following up with ten more years of poetry success (which, I know, sounds like an oxymoron).

Face it, we are all getting older. While visiting Florida this week, I’ve realized there are many ways to age gracefully.

There are athletic 85-year olds striding down the beach and bejeweled 75-year olds shopping for knick knacks.

As they say, aging is better than the alternative.

Like Phil Dunphy in Modern Family, I want to stay hip and childish. Maybe I mean, child-like and full of wonder.

I can be gullible, especially when my kids show me some new technology, my mouth falls open, Are you kidding, Facetime? Skype? You can talk on the phone and see someone? What will they think of next? Flying cars? Moving sidewalks?

Yes, at times, I am more naïve than my kids. They are growing up in New York City, after all, so that gives them an advantage over a kid like me who grew up in the Midwest suburbs. (Of course, ever since Obama became President, the Midwest is hip.)

As I age, I mainly want to stay curious and kind. I don’t want to be a know-it-all or a crabby old lady when I grow older. I love the song by Lee Ann Womack, I Hope You Dance. I love the line, I hope you never lose your sense of wonder. 

I hope, as I age, that I never lose my sense of wonder.