Advice for the New Year from the Sages

Turn Your Life Around - Photo by Kareen King

Turn Your Life Around - Photo by Kareen King

While celebrating New Year’s Eve, I asked several residents, the oldest being 101 years old, what their advice is to bring us into the New Year. Here’s what I got!

Try to get along with everybody - it makes you feel better.

Be happy with what you have.

Try to be honest, though it’s not always easy.

Thank the Lord for each new day.

Try to think positive.

There will be a better tomorrow.

Call friends more often.

Pray more.

Be happy.

Be more loving, caring.

Have a positive attitude – I NEVER think negative thoughts.

Watch the children and how they interact with the world.

Stop and smell the roses.

Live in the moment – the precious present.

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

Work hard.

Pray for your enemies – don’t you think enemies are just jealous?

Do your best.

Be kind.

Let it roll off your back.

Take one day at a time.

Life changes out of the blue.

Be grateful.

Be patient.

Go with God.

It's Not About You

Though I market myself as a keynote speaker, I also juggle a number of part-time jobs, one of which I quit today. It was due to a situation in which mandatory social distancing protocols were not consistently being followed, and I could no longer tolerate the anxiety of whether or not to act as a mask “police.” Nor did I want to continue to put myself as well as the elderly population with whom I work at risk. Sadly, the decision cost me income, but it earned me peace of mind, something we could all use more of these days.

The following are some personal examples that have toyed with my emotional well-being since this pandemic was declared by the World Health Organization on March 11th.

2020-4-7 Masks Pandemic.jpg

Photo of Kareen’s Homemade Masks by Kareen king

My first example is a Facebook conversation among several old friends, all who are are more vocal about their spirituality than the average Joe. I have removed the names and locations to protect their anonymity, even though this was a public conversation.

SHE: Today was a first...I entered and left a store because it was mandatory to wear a mask. Anyone else have the opportunity to do the same?

RESPONDER #1: I went to (department store) and the sign said wear a mask. But I didn't and no one said anything.

SHE: I went to 3 stores before that one and they allowed me to spend my money. Stupidest thing ever.

RESPONDER#2: I will do the same if I encounter that situation.

(Others ask what store it was. She names the store which happens to be a store that serves the underprivileged)

RESPONDER #3: Yes what store so I may avoid as I'm on the exempt list.

(More responses follow, asking for specifics on the location)

RESPONDER #4: We have several stores here that require a mask to enter.

RESPONDER #5:  Here’s what I plan to wear if I ever run into this situation (posts a photo of a chicken mask)

RESPONDER#6: Good to know!! I’m same way — they don’t need my money.

RESPONDER #7:  Yup, gave them the appropriate finger and kept on walking.

RESPONDER #8: I'm a mask wearer (responder adds a GIF of Mr. Rogers putting on a clown mask)

RESPONDER #9: (Home improvement store) required a mask, I told them they won't be getting any of my money.

ME: I am so bewildered by this kind of response. Wearing a mask is an act of kindness and respect for others. Wearing masks doesn’t mean businesses have to close. Businesses that are run by people who exercise every precaution to make others feel safe are more likely to draw customers like me. Even my own son and daughter in-law, both nurses, came to visit from California and even wore masks the minute they stepped out of their car and wore them into our home. We did not ask them to do so. They did it because they love and respect us and want to make sure they are not exposing us in case they are asymptomatic. I am so saddened and disappointed that masks have become a political or religious rights thing. I don’t see this type of response happening in other countries.

My comment was promptly removed by “SHE”.

Stunned, I went to the Facebook Help Center where I reviewed their community standards which included the following: “Safety: We are committed to making Facebook a safe place. Expression that threatens people has the potential to intimidate, exclude or silence others and isn’t allowed on Facebook.” Naively assuming the conversation undermined safety, I reported her post. Sadly, they didn’t think the conversation violated their standards, and allowed the post to remain.

And then, on September 10, 2020 President Donald Trump stood by his decision to downplay Covid-19, even as the U.S. death toll surpassed 190,000 (now 223,452, according to https://www.worldometers.info/coronavirus/) more than any countries in the world. He admitted to Bob Woodward, an investigative journalist who did much of the original news reporting on the Watergate scandal, that he knew very well the danger of Covid-19, and then defended his statements to the citizens of the United States “were good and proper answers. Calm, no panic!"

Panic is defined as a sudden overpowering fright. It can cause mass hysteria. It can also take an emotional toll on a personal level. Upon reflecting on his rationale, I propose that Trump’s words and actions have incited a different kind of panic, one that impacts daily unwanted decisions that come from fear of rejection, judgment, and ridicule from people whose impression one cares about, the most recent being my decision to quit a job.

A second example took place after a funeral. At first, things looked promising. Most of the attendees at the funeral wore masks. But there were those social distancing exceptions which included the frequent and sudden extensions of hands inviting a handshake, as well as the occasional person who came in for a hug. The first instinct, of course, was to accept the gestures. The second instinct was to go into fight-or-flight mode and discreetly run to the car for hand sanitizer.

The graveside service, however, was another story. After everyone parked their cars and gathered near the tent, the funeral director ushered everyone inside the tent with great pressure to draw in closer.

“Come on! You’re family, right?” the director urged.

In moments, the attendees were packed like sardines around the coffin, barricaded by three canvas walls and a canvas ceiling, and no one, but me and a couple others wore masks.

There was no time to negotiate what to do in those moments that passed quickly before my eyes. I tried to look on at the coffin in remembrance of the human I adored, and yet thoughts of fear for my husband’s safety – a man 61 years of age who has underlying health conditions that puts him at higher risk should he be infected by the virus – flooded my mind. It wasn’t until the event concluded that I realized I had every right to protest the actions that broke all social distancing protocols that have been prescribed by national health experts. But because there is no national mandate for masks, as there are in most other countries, Americans are playing Russian-roulette with their lives, and folks like me are too terrified to cry foul for fear of ruining the moment. And yet, my social anxiety and fear of what others think, took precedence over my right to personal safety.

The wearing of masks would not have prevented the family from honoring their loved one during a burial. We still had eyes to see and ears to hear. The wearing of masks would have minimized the fear of not feeling protected. Most importantly, the wearing of masks could have hypothetically spared some from sickness, hospitalization, ventilators, and residual health effects from a severe case of Covid, economic strain from being unable to work along with unwanted medical bills, and ultimately death.

And yet, without a national mandate, people who think like I do are faced with these anxiety-producing socially awkward situations time after time. And both people who think like I do, and people who DON’T think like I do, are equally placed at risk of infection and its accompanying implications.

My final story relates to why I quit my part-time job today.

“Wow! ‘Mary’! You’re looking bright today. Where are you guys headed?” I asked as a ninety-something-year-old resident stepped into her son’s vehicle.

Mary’s son began to complain about the safety protocols for residents of long-term care facilities.

“It’s been seven months and not one case of Covid here. Makes you wonder,” he stated.

“Well, maybe it’s because the staff are all following the protocols,” I defended. “I have to wear masks at all six (now five) of my part-time jobs. It only takes a spark to get a fire going.”

“I don’t know anyone personally who has had Covid.”

“My daughter tested positive for Covid.”

“You’re the first one I know who actually knows someone personally who got it.”

 “I also have a friend who lost both in-laws to Covid within a week of each other.”

“How do you know it’s Covid? Hell, it coulda just been a heart attack and they blame it on Covid. They got my mother all worked up about wearing these masks. Hell, who’s gonna know when we take them off after we get to our destination?” he ranted.

“You and I will have to disagree about Covid. In the meantime, take care of your mother.”

In conclusion, I can’t resist sharing one final anecdote which also took place on Facebook:

I recently woke up at 3:30 a.m. and couldn’t fall back to sleep, so I made the unwise choice to scroll through Facebook where I stumbled upon an ad from a company that sells monkey face masks. Granted, they really looked stupid, but what caught my attention were the countless rude comments that had to be moderated by a polite customer service agent who was only doing his or her duty in order to keep a job that he or she probably despised. Feeling empathy for this poor soul, I piped in and the following conversation ensued:

ME: Sheesh, people, if you’re not interested, just scroll on by. No need to be so rude to the customer service agent. Life is tough enough right now. The world could use a lot more kindness.

CUSTOMER SERVICE AGENT: You are awesome, Kareen! I couldn't agree more to that. Stay safe!

DISGRUNTLED FB RESPONDANT: Shall we all sit by the campfire and sing "Kumbaya"?

ME: Sorry you can’t find a more productive and kind way to spend your day.

DISGRUNTLED FB RESPONDANT: Some people cannot handle reality.  I scrolled on by but after seeing your comment I had to speak. People are being forced to wear masks and some are making money on other people's burden. And yes, I think the masks are childish and ridiculous - but someone else might like it. Go among your Progressives and sing "Kumbaya" while the real world passes by. People like you make me ill. Reminds me of the flower Krishna people in the airports harassing & mocking the troops.

Imagine that. The disgruntled FB respondent who serves the military says that I make him “ill,” and yet I am an American woman who wears masks in all public places so that I and others will literally not get ill.

In the end, I take heart in the words of one of my long-term care coworkers who encouraged me in my decision today to quit the job where social distancing protocols were loosely followed.

“It’s not about you. Thank you for making a stand for protecting our elders.”

Yes. And, it wouldn’t hurt for us all to sing, “Kumbaya” and spend a little less time on Facebook.

It's What it Made Him Feel

Rapp Schoolhouse, Photo by Kareen King

Rapp Schoolhouse, Photo by Kareen King

“What do the Dust Bowl, Huntington’s disease, hillbilly music, The Grapes of Wrath, Grandpa Walton, the Ku Klux Klan, Woodrow Wilson, and Bob Dylan have in common?”

I looked at the blank stares from a semi-circle of Assisted Living residents, knowing they wouldn’t be able to answer the question, but loving the idea that maybe I engaged their curiosity.

“That’s o.k.! I don’t expect anybody to be able to answer that question, but it was fun asking it anyway,” I teased. “The answer is Woody Guthrie. Raise your hand if you’ve heard of him.”

A couple hands rise.

“Raise your hands if you’ve never heard of him.”

A few more hands rise.

“Well, once you hear this next song, you will all realize you’ve heard of Woody Guthrie.”

I proceed to sing his famous song, “This Land is Your Land,” inviting the residents to join in.

Over the next 45 minutes, the space was filled with evidence to support my opening statement, with special attention to the Dust Bowl. My reference to Woody Guthrie’s first album, Dust Bowl Ballads, the most successful album of his career, led to some invigorating discussion and reminiscence. The most fascinating story was told by 95-year-old “Millie.” She recalled how she couldn’t see past her hands and proved it by her account of what happened at her one-room school house. Apparently the dust was so thick that her school teacher sent the kids home, a decision that would undoubtedly cost her job had the same decision been made today. Millie proceeded to tell how she and her brother crawled along the ditches, using the fence as a guide to lead them home as they used their hands to grab the posts along the way.

I also shared about Woody’s hardships including his family living through three fires, his mother being committed to a hospital for the “insane,” losing two adult daughters and his mother to Huntington’s disease and one adult son to a car accident, his father’s debts that led Woody to beg for food on the streets and sleep in the homes of relatives at the age of fourteen, three marriages, and eventually Woody’s personal bout with Huntington’s Disease that led him to an early death at the age of 55.

“Can anyone relate to living through at least one tragedy?” I probed, as I watched heads nod and hands rise.

As our time drew to a close, I summarized our experience with the intention of facilitating some introspection for some of who were likely processing life resolution issues.

“Woody once said, ‘Let me be known as just the man that told you something you already knew.’ So, I’d like you to think for a moment about what you want to be known as to others, or for what you want to be known.” I submit.

I then move toward our one-and only centenarian.

“You’ve been on this earth 100 years, “Frank.” For what would you like to be known?”

Frank stares at me and shakes his head.

“I don’t know.”

“Hmmm . . . I want you to think about that for awhile. Let me try someone else.”

I move over to “Jean” and ask the same, getting a similar response. Not wanting to end our time together on a low note, I muster up an idea to redeem the situation.

Calling upon the rules of improvisation which include taking risks, I take the plunge.

“Okay. So, let me try something else. I’m going to go around the circle to each of you and choose one word that comes up for me about you.”

One by one I stand before each human being, look them in the eye, pause, and then assign them their word, hoping it resonates. The words come fairly easily including loyal, inquisitive, ambitious, introspective, feisty, admirable, ornery, godly, poised, and positive.

When I stand before “James,” a man of short stature who has trouble retrieving words and knowing which direction to walk, I pause a little longer, slightly unsure.

“James,” I speak pensively. “I don’t know if the word that comes to me is a word that a man would normally want to be thought as, but the word gentle comes to mind.”

As I remain with him, I see heads nod and I watch tears well up in James’ eyes.

I eventually close our circle with words from John Steinbeck, author of The Grapes of Wrath and a personal friend of Woody’s. “Woody is just Woody. Thousands of people do not know he has any other name. He is just a voice and a guitar. He sings the songs of a people and I suspect that he is, in a way, that people. Harsh voiced and nasal, his guitar hanging like a tire iron on a rusty rim, there is nothing sweet about Woody, and there is nothing sweet about the songs he sings. But there is something more important for those who will listen. There is the will of the people to endure and fight against oppression. I think we call this the American spirit.”

This, and our ritual closing song, “Happy Trails.”

Everyone returned to their rooms, the dining room was set back up, the people came back for lunch, the tables were bussed, I had lunch with my coworkers, and then we all went back to our individual duties, me at my laptop in my makeshift “office,” the private dining room.

About two hours after our Woody Guthrie program, I noticed a quiet presence in my space. I looked up and their stood gentle James.

“I want to thank you for what you said about me,” he said.

“Well, you are very welcome. I truly meant it.” I replied.

“What was it you said about me again?”

Of course, with pleasure, I said it all over again.

Connecting Virtually with Nursing Home Residents During the Pandemic

The last time I set foot in the world of long-term care was the second week of March where I had the pleasure of facilitating several St. Patrick’s Day creative enrichment experiences. Little did I know that a week later, everything would change.  Because I am an independent contractor, I am not allowed to work on the premises of the two retirement communities I’ve been serving over the past decade, until further notice.

So, with the help of some coworkers, we’ve been able to set up some virtual singalongs, devotionals, and creative enrichment experiences where residents are situated in a socially distanced manner and in their own neighborhoods. There’s been a bit of trial and error, of course, and it hasn’t been 100% ideal, but it’s the next best thing.

Though there are probably many avenues I’ve not yet explored, our means of connection has been through Facebook Messenger video. Unlike Zoom, there are no time limits, and as long as a big screen television monitor is connected by a cable to the HTMI output port on a laptop, you can get both audio and visual from your television.  The joy also is that I can see the residents and address them by name! Yes, Dale Carnegie’s old adage that “a person’s name is to that person, the sweetest, most important sound in any language” rings true even virtually! Actually, it makes it even a bit more exciting and dramatic!

The televised photo on the left was taken by me the morning of my virtual creative engagement experience. I showed them the photo from my laptop of a Flicker who carved into one of our trees. One of the residents then asked if I would submit it to t…

The televised photo on the left was taken by me the morning of my virtual creative engagement experience. I showed them the photo from my laptop of a Flicker who carved into one of our trees. One of the residents then asked if I would submit it to the local news channel. And here it is!

This is where I took all my cues from my most recent creative enrichment virtual experience.

This is where I took all my cues from my most recent creative enrichment virtual experience.

I’ve witnessed “virtually” that residents can still sing along with me, give me a thumbs up, respond to my questions, follow along with my interactive exercises, pray, and say, “I love you” and “You made our day.” It has been heartening, to say the least, though we miss the face-to-face interaction.

On the other hand, I’ve been able to share with them things they would never see otherwise, such as my personal home “tours,” my three-legged dog Hank, the pasture that extends beyond my backyard, my husband who has provided assistance with a few devotionals, and more.

My guitar, my Emilou puppet, a book of daily hymns, my laptop, and my three-legged dog Hank . . .

My guitar, my Emilou puppet, a book of daily hymns, my laptop, and my three-legged dog Hank . . .

I love being able to move from guitar over to the piano bench!

I love being able to move from guitar over to the piano bench!

For Earth Day, I lined up a bunch of my puppets made from objects we would normally throw away. I then took my iPhone and panned it across each puppet for a close-up view for the residents.

For Earth Day, I lined up a bunch of my puppets made from objects we would normally throw away. I then took my iPhone and panned it across each puppet for a close-up view for the residents.

So, until things change, this is as good as it gets. And I’m grateful.

FYI: Speaking of virtual connection with older adults, I will be offering one of three webinars (the other two webinar presenters are Gary Glazner on May 6th and Brian LeBlanc on May 20th) through the Illinois Pioneer Coalition on June 2nd. For more information on how to register, visit the Illinois Pioneer Coalition Facebook page.

Addendum:Since this post, I taught a webinar for Illinois Pioneer Network Coalition called “Delivering a Creatively Engaging Online Experience for Older Adults.” Here are a few more ideas and examples of my work:

Technology Tips:

-          The benefit of iPhone sessions include the following:

  • You have the freedom to take your residents on a personal tour of your surroundings.

  • The volume can be adjusted on the television screen so that you don’t have to over-project and thus abuse your vocal cords.

  • You don’t have to haul a bunch of props to the premises of a face-to-face session. Also, the entire group can see your props collectively, rather than moving from person to person to show them.

-          Make sure you are seated where the light source is in front of your face, not behind you.

-          Prop your iPhone horizontally so they can benefit from a full-screen view of you.

-          During “show-and-tell” moments, reverse the screen by tapping the video icon. That way you can see what they are seeing and adjust the proximity accordingly.

-          When you are moving from a seated position to a tour of something, reverse the screen to give them the pleasure of being on the “journey” with you.

-          Facebook Messenger Video tips:

  • This only works if you are Facebook friends with those in charge of connecting you to the television.

  • Audio quality is improved if the audio is muted on their end. This will reduce the interference of sounds in their surroundings, especially if they are situated near a kitchen, housekeeper at work, or nurse hub where conversations may occur.

  • If the audio is muted, ask periodically for thumbs up from the residents to make sure they are still hearing you.

Singing with Guitar #2.jpg

Rules of Improvisation (Stoplight Analogy)

-          Green Light = Yes and!

  • This is the most important principle of comedy improvisation. Accept everything your participants offer and play with it so that you make them look good. This includes:

  • When they answer, “I don’t know” to a question.

  • When they say something negative.

  • When the individual with dementia says something that doesn’t appear to make sense to the listener.

-          Red light = Don’t block.

-          Yellow light = Take risks (be willing to look like a fool for the enjoyment of others).

Creating the Experience

Where to find topics:

-          Wikipedia

-          Today in History (www.onthisday.com)

-          Breaking news

-          Organic through conversation

-          Conducting an Audience Survey

-          My personal favorite: Ask the residents to come up with the dullest topic they can think of from which you will create and facilitate a relevant creative enrichment experience. Past examples include: Lint, cellophane, concrete, paper clips, battery acid.

Things to consider:

-          Audience demographics

  • Age, socioeconomic status, gender, educational background, religious affiliation, previous occupation, ethnicity, mental challenges, physical challenges, emotional challenges

-          Universality/Relevancy

  • What’s universal, relevant, and/or common knowledge? That is, why should they care?  “A universal theme is an idea that applies to anyone regardless of cultural differences, or geographic location. Universal themes are ways to connect ideas across all disciplines. It is a central idea about the human condition. It is a generalization about life or human nature; they deal with basic human concerns. A universal theme with generalizations can serve as the organizing element of unit of study.” Examples may include faith, family, power, heroes, war, beauty, etc.

-          Metaphorical potential

-          Mind-Mapping or Rabbit Trails/Holes

  • o   Where else can this topic take us?

  • o   What triggers reminiscence or personal narrative?

-          Related Songs

Examples of Distinctions between Traditional (real) and Creatively Engaging Activities:

-          Van rides vs. AdVANtures

-          Exercise vs. creative movement

-          Reading a story vs. telling it while involving the participants with sound effects, question & answers, enlisting the help of coworkers to act out the story, etc.

-          Reading a published devotional vs. organic exploration of a topic (i.e. collective lectio divina, a contemplative way of reading the Bible. It dates back to the early centuries of the Christian Church and was established as a monastic practice by Benedict in the 6th century. It is a contemplative way of praying the scriptures that leads people deeper into God’s word.  The process is to read a short passage more than once. Then chew it over slowly and carefully, savor it, and let it speak personally in a new way.)

Note: In response to the question, how does one facilitate “devotions” organically, I discussed how my residents and I spent 13 weeks on Psalm 23 by taking one sentence or phrase at a time and discussing what it meant to us. I used a dry erase board to write down their answers. I also connected my laptop to a big screen smart TV so I could show them YouTube videos of sheep-herding, etc.

An example on letting the scripture speak to them organically, I took the first line of Psalm 23, “The Lord is my Shepherd,” and then asked the participants, “What does the word ‘shepherd’ mean to you?” The following are some of their reflections:

Shepherd

Watches

Takes care

Leads and guides

Takes us to water

Protects

Searches for the lost ones

Doesn’t sleep

His voice is recognizable

Feeds us spiritually and physically

Lays down his life for us

Hangs on to us

Won’t let us be snatched away

Good

Knows us

Completes the work He started in us

"I am the good shepherd; the good shepherd lays down His life for the sheep.” John 10:11

Kenyan Shepherd, Photo by Kareen King

Kenyan Shepherd, Photo by Kareen King

How Dr. Seuss Evoked Reminiscence and Ignited Imagination with Older Adults

The life and works of Dr. Seuss provide a wealth of potential creative engagement material to work from in the long-term care setting. Until a few weeks ago, my appreciation of Dr. Seuss was superficial at best - recalling childhood memories of falling to sleep while listening to the contagious yawns in the recording of “Dr. Seuss’s Sleep Book,” hearing my parents read “The Cat in the Hat Comes Back” to me, and even giving out copies of “Oh, the Places You’ll Go” as graduation gifts while raising children of my own.

While preparing for my “Dr. Seuss Experience,” I paid a visit to my octogenarian in-laws. I shared some of my ideas with them, soliciting their advice for what to do with the wisdom-filled “Oh the Places You’ll Go.” I wasn’t really sure, for example, whether facilitating a discussion on the places nursing home residents want to go to would be very fruitful. Perhaps it might even be depressing. Would a reminiscence discussion be preferable? I wanted their input, especially in light of a farm accident that left my father-in-law dependent on the care of others over the previous several years.

“Well, if you were to ask, ‘Where do you want to go?’” my mother-in-law responded, “The answer would probably be, ‘Do you want to go to this room, or to this room?’ So, it would probably be better to ask where they’ve been.”

That triggered a delightful conversation with my in-laws on the places they’ve been, several of which I never knew about. We all ended the afternoon a little brighter as a result.

So, I applied their wisdom when I facilitated fun-filled experiences with three groups of residents in three different living environments. The experience at Brookside Retirement Community was especially animated with different individuals spontaneously breaking out into songs such as “Kansas City” and “Nothing could be finer than to be in Carolina in the morning . . .” during our “Where have you been?” discussion.

Songs like “I’ve Been Everywhere” and “Oh Where Have You Been, Billy Boy, Billy Boy” led to more lively discussion as we filled up the dry erase board with places they’ve been. One lady with dementia said, “I came from outer space,” adding a little twirl with her finger upside her head as she poked fun at herself.

The crowning moment came at the end when a male resident exclaimed, “I haven’t gone to the moon yet.”

“Let’s go now!” I shouted, leading everyone in a collective “popcorn” game of “Yes And!”

With that, we all took an imaginary journey to the moon where we saw Jupiter, Mars, John Glenn, and even drank beer there.

“I’m gonna find a man up there,” another lady with dementia teased.

“The man’s dead,” rebuffed a crotchety gentlemen.

Nevertheless, everyone had a delightful time.

“Has everyone’s spirits gone up a notch? If so, raise your hand,” I invited.

Hands rose all around the room.

“This always helps,” one of the female residents concluded.

Later, I visited my in-laws with a report on the experience.

 “I figured they’d rather go backward than forward,” my mother-in-law concluded.

And yet, though there was joy in reminiscing, there’s nothing that stops us from moving forward in our imaginations.

My Mother-in-Law, Wanda - Photo by Kareen King

My Mother-in-Law, Wanda - Photo by Kareen King

How to Rewire When You've Been Hurt

“Bah humbug!” is the catchphrase of the cold-hearted, mean-spirited character, Ebenezer Scrooge in Charles Dickens’ classic Christmas tale, A Christmas Carol. Besides his lack of generosity, he also responds to everyone around him with verbal venom. Sadly, there are still plenty of “Scrooges” to go around, and their unhealed wounds create wounds in others.

“Broken and Twisted” - Photo by Kareen King

“Broken and Twisted” - Photo by Kareen King

It seems with the holiday season upon us, mean-spiritedness is raising its ugly head even higher in what I call the “Mean Girls of an Older Generation.” If you work in a retirement community, you are likely to witness the occasional small group of older women making disparaging remarks loudly in the presence of others they either are envious of or feel superior toward. This behavior is not only directed toward fellow residents, but also toward the very staff who care for them. I could provide plenty of examples of such behavior, but instead I’ll focus on a couple of one-to-one encounters.

Just recently, I was the target of such mean-spiritedness, twice in one day. The first encounter occurred when I approached an individual who was reading her newspaper. Though she prefers not to participate in social gatherings, I wanted to make sure she knew there was always an open invitation for her to attend my “Kareen’s Kettle.” Since her face was hidden behind the newspaper, I addressed her by name quietly. No response. I said her name a little louder. No response. Regretfully, my next action was to sit on the chair beside her and gently tap her arm.

“Don’t EVER do that again,” she yelled, instantly throwing her paper to her lap. “That startled me!”

Stunned, the tears rolled unexpectedly and uncontrollably down my cheeks as I quickly apologized for startling her. Seeing my tears, she gave me an expose on her declining health, increased fatigue, and growing despondency toward aging. She admitted she often resorts to being rude to others as a result.

“There, we made up now,” she added in an effort to apologize in return. I placed my hands on hers, apologizing again, and letting her know that I simply wanted to remind her that she hasn’t been forgotten by me, and there is always a place for her in my gatherings, should she decide to change her mind. As unpleasant as that experience was, it ended well and I was able to recompose myself.

I then returned to visit with a resident who showed up a half hour early to the semi-circle I had arranged for the “Kettle.” She and I were in the middle of a pleasant conversation when suddenly another female individual I’ll call “Joan,” approached me with a stern reprimand for showing up on a day where my activity wasn’t posted on the activity calendar. I explained to her the reason for the miscommunication, and she left in a huff, yelling, “Well, I’m not coming and don’t bother me!” She proceeded to verbally assault me to anyone who had ears to hear.

The female who witnessed the event shook her head in disbelief, as did I. She explained how she doesn’t let “Joan” get to her, and that life is too short to be that unhappy.

“I’m wired to be a bit oversensitive,” I explained.

“You gotta change your wires,” she wisely retorted.

I proceeded to conduct myself with the same level of enthusiasm, positivity, and affection toward the residents in the creative enrichment program that followed, even though I felt I was operating with a dagger in my heart. Though our gathering was lovely, I was still reeling from the verbal assault, so much so, that I was tempted to go home early. But I knew I couldn’t. Not only would it not be fair to the others who would benefit from my services, but it would be a futile act of giving away my power.

The afternoon proved to be spectacular for the two creative enrichment gatherings that followed. I’m glad I stayed, and I knew I had made a difference. I went home to my ever loving husband who had prepared dinner for me, and I shared about the day. We then watched a couple documentaries before going to bed. I hoped that a good night’s sleep would wash away the ill-effects of those two incidents.

The next morning, I realized that incident number one was no longer an issue, because of the healing conversation that followed. But incident number two still stung into the morning. All the more reason to attend the restorative yoga class that was offered by my talented and creative friend, Michelle Robert, owner of Higher Power Yoga. While tuning into her information about the parasympathetic nervous system, sometimes called the rest and digest system, as well as doing several poses, I had time to reflect on that statement, “You gotta change your wires.” How does one rewire himself?

Rewiring is different for everyone. Some people stay their same old selves till death. A friend of mine once said, “The older you get, the more YOU you become.” Some older adults just get bitterer as they age. I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want their bitterness to become my bitterness. I want to rewire - over and over again, if need be. In this case, I decided to process my experience through writing, and then share it with others. Yoga was a part of that rewiring.

Other ways of rewiring include spending time with loving, positive people, engaging in nature photography, praying, and embracing who I really am. A powerful tool for me has been the transformational process of Breakthrough, an intensive personal effectiveness experience available through Heartconnexion.org. Through that process I came to realize that who I am is a remarkable, authentically present, and unapologetic woman in whom God lives. Those words are posted in my Facebook bio as a constant reminder that rewiring is a work in progress. Like it or not, we will always encounter wounded people who choose not to rewire.

In the meantime, I leave you with the famous and generous last words spoken by the rewired Scrooge in Charles Dickens’ novel: "God bless us, Every one!"

P.S. Speaking of rewiring through nature photography, my 2020 calendars are here! Each features a favorite photo for each month of the year, plus a bonus cover photo. Calendars are $20.00, plus tax and shipping and handling where applicable. If interested, email me in the contact form.

Collage of 2020 Face-to-Face Wall Calendar - Photography by Kareen King

Collage of 2020 Face-to-Face Wall Calendar - Photography by Kareen King

Collage of 2020 Nature Wall Calendar - Photography by Kareen King

Collage of 2020 Nature Wall Calendar - Photography by Kareen King

How Creative Enrichment Took a Brain from Zero to Ten

As per customary routine, I went up and down the halls of the Assisted Living to invite the residents to Kareen’s Kettle. When I entered John’s room, he was watching the news while seated in a recliner, his body shifted far to the right and head leaning over the arm of the chair. Concerned, I asked, “Are you o.k.?”

He looked confused, mumbling that he was o.k. I soon realized he thought I wasn’t coming until the afternoon because of a glitch in the calendar.

“Are you sure you’re o.k?” I persisted.

“I don’t feel that good,” he replied.

I reported his condition to the nurse who said she’d check in on him. No sooner had I finished the conversation than I saw John headed with his walker straight to his regular seat in the large semi-circle of older adults where they faced a large picture of the brain I had drawn on the dry erase board.

The Brain.jpg

I scanned the faces of my participants and quickly surmised an unusual lethargy in the space.

“O.k., ladies and gentlemen, on a scale of one to ten, ten being terrific, and one being terrible, what’s your number?”

With the exception of two people, numbers ranged from four to eight, with most being around a five. John was a zero.

Armed with this information, I mustered my best energy to guide them through our usual warm-up routine comprised of breathing and chair exercises, sung to their favorite tunes. Our topic of the day was the brain. And I was lucky that the charge nurse was willing to serve as an improvisational mind reader at a moment’s notice.

After reviewing the four lobes of the brain, I invited Linda to produce her magic. One by one, she moved from person to person with great gusto and humor, ruffling up the men’s hair as she came up with the perfect insight for each individual. By the end of the exercise, I had laughed so much, my face hurt. Linda had raised the energy level from zero to a hundred in just a few minutes.

The remainder of our time was spent discussing how our brain thinks, imagines, ponders, meditates, contemplates, wonders, deliberates, believes, reflects, and remembers. I told them the story of a resident named Tom who came to Brookside long ago with a traumatic brain injury which affected his personality. His song, “Yuk, Yuk, Yuk” is featured in my album, “The Person in the Picture Ain’t Me.” We discussed how Albert Einstein said that imagination is more important than intelligence. And I had the housekeeper, Lisa bring in a box for them to guess what was in it. Turns out it was empty, but it was a great catalyst for us to discuss what it is to think outside the box.

In the end, using the Glen Campbell song, “Gentle on my Mind” as a catalyst, I encouraged them to be gentle with themselves. After all, they all have a lot of memories and information stored inside their brains – it’s no wonder it’s difficult to retrieve everything. I also encouraged them to continue to come to the Kettle, as it’s a great place to stretch their imagination and learn new things – all great for brain health. Life is a series of adjustments to losses and disappointments, and coming together for creative enrichment is a great thing to do to strengthen the brain, and ultimately the spirit.

After our final song, “Happy Trails,” I went from person to person to shake their hands and thank them for coming. When I came to John, I asked, “So, you showed up with a zero. Did our experience raise you at least one notch?”

“Oh,” he shook his head with a huge grin, “It took it from a zero to a ten!”

The Disease of Remembering

Peacock - Photo by Kareen King

Peacock - Photo by Kareen King

It was my birthday on a day with no time commitments. Free to decide how to spend my time, I chose to visit my friends, Brenda and Loren. Brenda and I go back years, having discovered a common thread of love of adventure and anything edgy and out of the box. I used to take groups of older adults, many with dementia, to their country home to see her farm animals. I would arrive with a full bus of up to twenty folks, open the side door, and Brenda would usher in dogs, goats, baby chicks, sugar gliders, her snout-painting pig, and even a farting turkey, to name a few. The residents delighted in holding them and watching their antics.

CD Cover Design and Photography by Brenda Cox

CD Cover Design and Photography by Brenda Cox

Brenda also designed the front and back covers and booklet for my CD, The Person in the Picture Ain’t Me. It’s an album of original songs about people in long-term care who feel dismembered from belonging because of dementia, disabilities, and dying. She, a talented professional photographer, photographed some of the people featured in my album, and also spent time with some of them. One of her favorites was Jewell, the 101-year-old lady on the album cover who once said of the photo by her bedroom door, “That’s my name, but the person in the picture’s not me.”

During those years, Loren held a prestigious job at a nuclear power plant. Whenever I saw him, most of his conversation geared around how proud he was of his wife and kids and all their amazing abilities. One time he gave me a tour of their back yard which extended much further than I had ever known. Surrounded by forest, he had created a walking trail just for Brenda and delighted in showing me how it was a secret portal to wildlife, as she has always been a lover of animals.

Years later, Loren’s cognition began to show signs of decline until one year, he was no longer able to pass the annual cognition test and was let go. After a series of tests, Loren, a man in his fifties, was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s disease. True to form, Brenda has somehow brilliantly navigated Loren’s well-being while juggling several jobs. All the while, Loren continues to demonstrate his typical positivity, gratitude, and pride in his wife.

So, back to my birthday. I chose to pop in on my friends to give them a little cheer after a setback in Loren’s health. When I arrived, I saw Brenda’s car was gone, so I gave her a call.

“Brenda, are you home? I’m sitting in your driveway.”

“I’m picking up groceries,” she replied.

“Well, I wanted to come visit you and Loren on my birthday, but I don’t want to alarm him with my presence. What should I do?”

“Just knock on the door and say, ‘It’s Kareen.’”

So I did just that. Loren answered the door and let me in while their beloved Corgi jumped up and down with excitement. I was then invited to sit down on a couch in the living room while Loren took a seat in the couch across from me. I had intended on only staying a few minutes, thinking that all that was needed was a brief reminder that someone cared. Instead, I wound up staying at least an hour. Though he struggled a bit with some word retrieval, he still managed to tell me how proud he is of his Brenda and how she can do anything, which is pretty true, by the way.

And then suddenly he switched gears.

“What happened to the church?”

Gulp. I now realized he had a sense of who I was, even though he had never addressed me by name. You see, many years ago he had been the chairman of the leadership team of the church in which my husband was its most recent pastor. I tried to explain as simply and generically as I could what happened to our church that is currently recovering from some unfortunate fall-out.

“You know, just a couple days ago I couldn’t walk. And now I can. I just keep moving forward one step at a time. We’ve got to keep moving forward, love people, encourage people.”

“Yes,” I agreed, tears now flowing.

“Love people, encourage people, forgive people. Keep moving forward.”

He said it again, and again.

“I have the disease of remembering,” he then declared.

The disease of remembering? Surely he meant the disease of forgetting. Was he just confused? I think not. How poetic it is that Loren sees his disease in the positive manner in which he has always lived his life. Though he is forgetting words and people and how to do certain things, he’s remembering what matters.

I have been a part of the Memory Bridge Retreat (founded by the brilliant Michael Verde) for several years where there’s a great deal of focus on “re-membering” those who have been “dis-membered” from the body of belonging. We hone the skill of listening more attentively. Each year I do a concert about Emilou whose songs are featured in my album. I tell the story of how we first met – an occasion in which after repeatedly hollering for help from her room, I went in and asked what she needed.

“I want to die,” she replied. “I’m an old maid. I want to die. Just bury me in the pasture.”

She repeated the plea several times, holding me close to her face.

“I’m all alone and lonely,” she continued. “I never wanted a husband. I wanted a best friend.”

We all want to belong. It’s what keeps us going.

So, back to Loren and I.

“I’m so glad you came here,” Loren said with tears in his eyes.

“So am I.”

I stood up. He stood up. We hugged. I thanked him for reminding me to keep moving, keep loving people, keep encouraging people.

As I headed back to my car, I noticed Brenda’s pet peacock was in full strut mode. Of course I had to take several photographs. Love followed by beauty. Two of God’s greatest gifts.

I had gone to encourage one I thought had been dis-membered, when it was me who had been dis-membered. In essence, we re-membered each other. It’s what the great philosopher Martin Buber would call an I-Thou moment. It was the truest moment I could ever wish for on my birthday.

Note: If interested in the album, “The Person in the Picture Ain’t Me,” click https://store.cdbaby.com/cd/kareenking