Tuesday, August 31, 2010

The New "D" Word

If you have not already done it, you will.  Sifting through the remains of a deceased parent's life can be alternatively uplifting and melancholy.  There are the flora and fauna of a life well lived:  the family photos - some dating back multiple generations; there is the correspondence of courtship (I know, no one wants to go here but your folks had the same thoughts you do); a sprinkling of awards, citations, and work-related commendations; and, evidence of personality traits kids tend to overlook for being too close to the person. 

For instance, my father never threw away any type of paper document.  Never.  Anything.  Not the 1985 calendar from some charity to which he contributed.  Not the car insurance bill from August 1994.  Not travel itineraries from years ago.  Not his meanderings about which stocks might be worth buying.  Nothing.  I'm reasonably sure stock in the company that owns Glad went up as keepers were separated from trash. 

Of course, because nature demands a certain balance, there is the flotsam and jetsam, too, such as a book called "The 36-hour Day".  Which is a family guide to dealing with memory issues that can afflict the aging.  Which affect my mother.  Which my father kept to himself.  Which adds a degree of difficulty to caring for an older parent.  Which would have been good to know ahead of time. 

The discovery brought a series of previous events that, at the time, seemed odd into clear focus.  A bit of digging revealed a diagnosis dating back at least 5 years.  Maybe keeping it to himself was Old World on dad's part; conditions of mental deterioration are hardly the stuff of dinner party conversation.  In fact, they are barely discussed at all in comparison to physical ailments.  Everyone knew dad had cancer; no one knew a thing about mom. 

It's a bit ironic if you think about it.  A generation ago, words like "cancer" and "divorce" were spoken in hushed tones, as though volume correlated to severity.  Today, "alzheimer's" and "dementia" get similar treatment, though I am regularly surprised when the subject does come up by the reach of both conditions and by the common themes that permeate those who have had a family member fall under the spell of either. 

I'll get into more detail on that in subsequent posts though, to date, I have been confused for my brother and for at least one person outside the family, there are regular discussions about how the house really is the house and not a "home", and various other things that, at times, defy description.  The concept of the 36-hour day is beginning to make sense.  Good thing I'm only a graduate student. 

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Transitions, changes, adjustments. oh my

At what point does class participation go from active to annoying?  That mark may have been reached during my first week of classes.  At least I think it was.  I could be wrong; maybe the professor wasn't thinking "geez, anyone other than him want to chime in?", but that seemed to be the vibe. 

A wise man once said "just because you have an opinion doesn't mean everyone else is entitled to it".  Embracing that philosophy is part of my transition from the corporate arena to academia.  In business, the only thing worse than a bad suggestion was the one not made.  I can't help it; I am a vocal guy.  Good thing, too, considering I am in the Communications and Journalism program.  However, it is quite possible, likely even, that not a single of my classmates is paying for the privilege of being regaled with my thoughts and meanderings.  I'll work on adding to the discussion when necessary and listening when it is not.

Transitioning is the theme of the moment.   That and fitting in with the other students, age gap be damned.  Probably odd for them, too, but since I am outnumbered, it makes more sense for me to adapt to the rest of the group than the other way around. 

At this point, being surrounded by sharp young folks is a nice change.  The blast of energy and enthusiasm are replacing the cynicism and jaded nature that can seep into the workplace after a few years of the same people doing more or less the same thing every day.  It is also a good antitode for the curmudgeon streak that begins to creep up on folks whose last foray to college was for Parents' Day and whose common refrain toward the younger generation is "ah, kids today...I tell ya".  The students in the Comm and Journo grad program are the type they will want to hire.

Meanwhile, the transition continues at home, too.  Those who read the first episode will know what I mean; those who didn't, well, what are you waiting for?  

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

And so it begins

  Periodically, life makes sure you don't get too comfortable.  Or complacent, as my bride calls it.  Semantics aside, if someone had asked a year ago where I would be August 2010, graduate school may not have been the last possibility, but you could see the end of the list from where it ranked.  Actually, last was selling security tools for the self-storage industry which, coincidentally, is what I was doing a year ago.  Not that it was a bad job; it was a great job, full of cool people with interesting stories.  But, it had reached the point of being a JOB and who wants one of those.

  Then, my father died, which was not totally unexpected except for the timing.  And, we learned my mother, well, let's just say the cogs are not as well-oiled as they used to be.  It was a curveball that would have made Sandy Koufax jealous.  Yes, that is an old-guy baseball reference and your first assignment if you are not either a baseball historian or spend entirely too much time watching SportsCenter.

  That led to one of those taking stock moments that are usually confined to sappy dramas on Thursday nights at 10pm, 9 o'clock Central (another thing I'm getting used to).  With mom, let's just say the assisted living facility didn't take.  Nice people, peace of mind to a huge degree for us, but calls home became a source of dread rather than enjoyment.  As to the job, would it be any different in two years?  Bigger question - would it even exist in two years? 

  The wheels went into motion:  GRE exam, talking to my boss - who was way cool and supportive over a steak dinner (and I will miss the corporate expense account), and everyone's favorite chore of packing and moving.  The latter provided ample evidence about the value of my previous job; everyone has more stuff than square footage, which is why there are almost as many self-storage operations as fast food stores.  

  And now, we are here - the grad returned to tackle the next rung on the academic ladder, the chief support officer and caregiver embracing new responsibilities, and a cantankerous 79-year old.  For the moment, it's fair to say I am "transitioning" in numerous ways that will be covered in subsequent episodes.  As a great line from a favored comedy of the past went - first, you show up; then see what happens.