Real Joe

When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us. – Alexander Graham Bell
One of my sons said the first part of this quote to me a couple months ago when he got fired from his job and quickly discovered that several other opportunities opened up.
I wonder how this might apply to my life when my dad dies. Or as the NASDAQ continues its plunge and angel investment money gets harder to come by, what new doors might be opening up for Real Joe.

Do men listen differently than women?
My wife pointed out this AP story on a study to me: Men – Unlike Women – Use Only Half Of Brain When Listening

I told her that most men suffer from M.A.L.L.A.R.D.S. – Male Attention Learning Listening And Retention Deficit Syndrome and directed her to a radio piece on it by MN Public Radio’s The Morning Show.

Forgiveness is simply love put into action. - Kent Nerburn
This seems to be a good way to frame what I’m doing when I take 3 or 4 hours out of my day to go feed my dad. I’m just forgiving him. I don’t know if he’s receiving it. He certainly hasn’t asked for my forgiveness. But now I understand the nature of forgiveness a little better than I did. So the outcome doesn’t matter, since it’s out of my hands. I just do what I can do.

I wonder now how I can go about putting forgiveness into action with my mom. My wife questioned whether giving her a book to read would be effective. She’s right. Better for me to write a letter to mom, or just take her out for a meal and just listen, just try to understand her fears and conflicting emotions without trying to change her. Seems like a better idea.

I played the best racquetball of my life last night. I’ve been patiently practicing for about 15 minutes 3 or 4 times a week for several months, ever since I attended a 3 day camp in May. I’ve improved some during this time, but I’ve not quite gotten over the hump with a slightly different grip, wrist and hip snap, and follow-through on both my backhand and forehand. Last night, it all came together and I was consistent for 8 games of doubles over 2 hours. What a treat it was.

I wonder if I’ll maintain this or backslide again? I’m guessing that I’ll maintain most of it, since I was fully aware of the different feel. I could sense my body learning, that it ‘got’ it. We’ll soon see. I’m not concerned about it, though. I know it’ll come if I’m patient and alert when I practice.

I sent an email to Kent Nerburn yesterday, thanking him for ’speaking to me’ through the chapters of his book. I don’t expect a reply, as he’s not tech literate, plus I think he might be thinking I’ve got some hidden agenda. I’ve written to him before re: suggestions on how to improve his website and haven’t heard back from him. I tried to assure him otherwise in my note yesterday, but there’s no sense in pushing it.

I brought my thank you gifts of flowers and pastries to the staff of my dad’s nursing home last night. They were very appreciative and I felt good about it. I had to go out of my way to buy the stuff and write the note, something that my wife does all the time, but rarely me. And since he’s is no longer in the unit where these people work, it’s not even manipulative!
So Dad’s now in the ‘warehouse’ section, where there’s mix of pretty functional folks with semi-basket cases like him. I got there at dinner time last night, and I about croaked from the smell of cigarette smoke in the dining room. They don’t allow folks to smoke during dinner but evidently before and after. Ugh.
There are about 50 residents on his floor and nearly all get wheeled into the dining room for meals. Dad’s tray was among the first to come and I was glad because he was starving and it took the entire two hours to feed him. I liked the staff, though. Most seemed cheery and they were friendly with one another as well as with the residents. But the sad fact was, those residents who couldn’t feed themselves didn’t get enough time from the staff. There’s just too many and not enough time.
So I’ll try to get there once a day for the time being. It’s a pain, because it’s 45 minutes away. It would be easier if he’d show more improvement. It seems crass to feel that way, though. I should just feed him because he’s hungry. He said “Yeah” very quietly twice last night so I guess that’s progress. And his eyes seemed to be focusing better. So I’m still hopeful he’ll clear out whatever these cobwebs are.

I’ve linked all the weblog entries related to my dad’s hospitalization to a right hand sidebar next to the Dying a Good Death piece I wrote a couple of months ago. It seems to be the best place for it for now.

[12/12 update: the links are now on the Eulogy to my Pappy page.]

I walked into my office this morning with bit of glumness. This is unusual for me, as I’m usually bursting with ideas and energy in the morning. My wife Robbie noticed it last night and asked me if I was feeling down. I said I didn’t think I was down but just in a state of constant reflection about life right now. But now that I think about it, I guess she’s right. I’ve been pulling back from her since we had a long talk about finances over the weekend. My dad’s not showing any signs of improvement and is being moved from an intensive care part of the nursing home to what I think of as the warehouse part today. So I was glum. Down.
As I was grabbing my coffee cup, I looked over at my bookshelf where I’d stacked some new books that I’d ordered several weeks ago. I saw Kent Nerburn’s new book “Calm Surrender: Walking the Hard Road of Forgiveness” and I flipped through a few pages at random. I came upon a passage about some guy and his BMW motorcycle so I tossed the book in my bag, grabbed my coffee cup, and distinctly said in my head, “C’mon Kent, speak to me with whatever it is I’m in need of today.”
This is a strategy I learned from Polly Berrien Berends in her book “Coming to Life”. She considers it a form of prayer and calls it ‘checking for messages.’ Whenever you’re looking for inspiration or guidance of some kind, just grab a book of quotations or the Bible or any book that’s got short, inspiring, reflective content that appeals to you, open it anywhere, and ideas come. It works every time.

The third chapter in Nerburn’s new book recounts the story of his parents’ lives, up to the point of his father’s death and how his mother changed afterwards. It’s remarkably similar to my parents’ situation, and one that could shine a light for my mother in her hour of need. It just became so clear to me that I have to get her to read that chapter.
The fourth chapter chronicles the story of his mother-in-law’s near-death health problem and he and his wife’s struggle with beauracracy in the health care system. It’s a story that’s similar in many ways to my struggle with my dad’s doctors and hospital. But his choice to find ways to forgive and reach out gave me some inspiration. The staff in the intensive care unit at this nursing home where my dad is have been so terrific in the short time that he’s been there. He’ll be gone from their care today and they’ll soon forget he was ever there. But I’d like to acknowledge them somehow, to let them know that they’ve made a real difference. I think some flowers and a bag of gooey raisin fritters from our local bakery, along with a detailed note of thanks should do it.
Lastly, reading Nerburn’s chapters affirmed my vocational feel about Real Joe. I don’t know exactly how yet, but like his eloquent writing inspires me, I hope that Real Joe can find a form that does something similar for others. I could be wrong about it, but it’s what seems to be right now.

How can we remember our ignorance, which our growth requires, when we are using our knowledge all the time? - Henry David Thoreau
This is a quote that’s fallen on deaf ears in this digital age. One of the nifty things about keeping a journal for a long time is that I can go back in time to look at my thinking and struggles. I guess that’s a version of ‘remember our ignorance.’ When I do this, I’m either delighted that I’ve made a little progress, or amazed that I’m still struggling with the same damn mistaken thinking and all the accompanying problems it causes. Either way, it helps.

It occurred to me yesterday morning that I’ve not really prayed for my Dad. I’ve said a few Our Fathers and Hail Marys by his side, but that was just to try and wake him up. So what would my prayer be for this 98 pound helpless geezer?
My gut reaction is to pray, “God, please give him a few more years so he can shape up and get more good stuff from life and then die a better death.” But that seems a bit too prescriptive for my taste. How about:

“I pray that the love I feel and that others feel for my dad be received by him, that it infuses him with some peace of mind and helps him either embrace death with open arms or embrace life a little longer with a new spirit of understanding.”
I guess that works better. I’ll pray it now and again when I see him later today.