Judgment Day

Dr. Andrea Gould of Lucid Learning Systems, www.lucidlearning.com, recently led a group in which all the members were confronting some sort of life transition. Dr. Gould taught us to listen to one another and preface any suggestions with the phrase "if it were my life." At first glance, it seemed like a polite way to couch criticism. In fact, the phrase is a rich, potent communication tool.

Everyone has issues to confront, decisions to make and conflicts to resolve. We all scrutinize how others raise their children, how others interact with their partners or other people or how others maintain their physical well-being. We can judge our friends and family members for failing to pursue what we think are obvious solutions, but the truth is that solutions can only be presumed, not guaranteed. Except in severe and rare circumstances, no choice is definitively wrong. See, e.g. my review of The Glass Castle by Jeanette Walls, 1/21/10. One path may successfully avoid one set of problems, but another set of problems might be encountered on the alternative route.

More often than not, choices are like ever so many roads intersecting in the woods. The woods tend to be dark, the 'right way' generally is lost* and taking "the one less travelled" can make all the difference.** Every decision involves individual point of view. Decisions can often be painful, confusing and frightening. Often, those pronouncing judgment really mean to be helpful. Judgmental criticism, however, obscures this intent. Instead, judgmental criticism is just one more onslaught, while tendering advice by offering a different perspective is far more constructive and calming. Use of the phrase "if it were my life" enhances empathy, increases respect for autonomy and serves as a useful tool for offering support.

*Inferno, Dante Alighieri, 1st Tercet: In the middle of the journey of our lives, I came upon myself in the middle of a dark wood, where the right way was lost.

** The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost

Why is this day different?

Christmas makes me appreciate that I am different. I am not part of the dominant, white Christian culture, thoughsSome of my best friends are both white and Christian. Seriously. But the experience of not being part of the mainstream, not being part of the revelry that is Christmas, reminds me of my heritage.

The exclusion is just as much as a reminder as is observance. To be sure, there are subtle differences in experiencing exclusion versus observance. Observance requires active involvement with tradition, while exclusion is passive and subtle.

This time of year highlights an awkward divide. Some Christian friends are at a loss for words. One friend warmly drew us into her home and celebration. We honestly had great fun and ate ourselves silly, but we were visitors. I am proud of who I am, I am comfortable and I am grateful to appreciate what it feels like to be different.

When I am among the dominant culture in the room, I have the strength to reach out to the 'other' among us. Today, I have everything in common with any other non-Christian. How ironic that on Christian holidays, Muslims and Jews are especially united as outsiders. If only we could embrace that commonality.

Postcards from the edge

In some respects, receiving cards from friends at holidays is a warm gesture that I appreciate. How nice it is to know that you are in someone's thoughts. On the other hand, once I have opened the envelope, I have no idea of what to do with these cards.

Frankly, the cards I receive are promptly placed in the garbage. Then, I feel badly; someone thought enough to keep me in their thoughts, and I toss their card in the trash. Being environmentally conscious makes the greeting card issue especially irksome. Someone thought enough to send me a card, I guiltily toss the missive or picture of their precious children and, to top it all off, I get an additional dose of guilt for having added to a landfill.

My solution is that I simply don't send out holiday cards. Never have, never will. I don't send them for the Jewish New Year, nor do I send them at Christmas. On occasion, I have sent out e-mail missives for various holidays and that is about the extent of it. Perhaps I should be more thoughtful. Perhaps I should be more organized, but I am not. Oh well, I suppose I will have to accept imperfection. Happy holidays to all.

A Dog's Life

National Public Radio's "All Things Considered" featured a memorable program about parasites. Toxoplasmosis, a parasite in cat feces, was discussed in detail. Apparently, rats and mice ingest the toxoplasmosis, which travels into the rodents' brains. As a consequence of the parasite, the smell of cat becomes attractive to the smaller critters. Since the infected mice and rats are drawn to cats, they become easy prey. Anyone who has had a cat knows the rest of the story. The radio program I listened to surmised that perhaps toxoplasmosis has a similar effect on people who live with cats. It is often said that the cat owns the human, and not the other way around.

I wonder if there is a similar substance in dogs. Before I had a dog, I had little interest in these creatures. Now, I notice dogs constantly. This morning I heard a brief discussion about the death of Target, a former stray who, along with several other dogs, thwarted a suicide bomber in Afghanistan. Target was accidentally euthanized. Honestly, I got a little choked up as I heard the story recounted.

Target and the other dogs who were with him in Afghanistan demonstrated the quality of altruism - unselfish concern for others' welfare. How remarkable that such a lofty emotion can be demonstrated by a simple dog. How pathetic that the dogs were morally superior than most humans.

Has my little dog affected some chemical change in my brain that makes me partial to other dogs? Or have I been moved by a truly remarkable story involving purity of spirit? In any event, there is a lesson here for all of us humans, dog and cat lovers alike. Would that we all could demonstrate gratitude for the simple things that others do for us. Would that we could all be sufficiently brave to protect and defend our pack.

The Circle of Life

Today is my birthday. The first week in this new year of my life is filled with practically every life-cycle event imaginable. A friend called to let me know her son and daughter-in-law had a new baby boy this week and asked me to join them at the bris. In a short while, I will head to the local Jewish Center to help celebrate a bat mitzvah. Tomorrow, there is a funeral for a friend's mother died yesterday after a very long illness. On this day, I feel like I am in the middle of a whirlpool, surrounded and embraced by all of these events.

Yesterday, I called our family's favorite special occasion restaurant to make a reservation. The maitre d' knows my family and we caught up on the news of pending marriages of the then children, now young adults. We spoke about the perspective we have up here on this mountain of the aged. It is frightening, kind of like peering over a cliff.

Though I am definitely more vibrant and active than my parents were at my age, I wonder if my children, nieces and nephews think of me as an ancient. In some ways, I think they don't. On the other hand, it would be nice to be accorded the respect of a venerable elder.

North Shore-LIJ Healthcare Systems and its Visionary President and CEO

North Shore-LIJ Healthcare Systems is raising funds for construction of the new Katz Institute for Women's Health and Katz Women's Hospital. In support of that effort, a group of Long Island executives, called the Commerce and Industry Council, held an event at which Michael J. Dowling, president and chief executive officer of North Shore-LIJ Healthcare Systems, was the keynote speaker. Mr. Dowling is visionary.

Healthcare is a complex industry. It involves people of varying skill, real estate, construction, facility maintenance, supplies, equipment and security.* North Shore-LIJ hires approximately 80 to 90 people each week, and Mr. Dowling meets them all. Up-to-date facilities, however, are integral to provision of medical services. New York's medical facilities, in particular, are aging.

Fifty may be the new thirty for people, but not so for buildings. The expense of building hospitals is close to incomprehensible. Covering the costs for delivery of care by the medical professionals is another challenge in the face of cuts to medicare and medicaid. Mr. Dowling, however, seems one step ahead. He has anticipated and prepared for changes in the landscape of the healthcare industry. Facilities for professional and patient education, as well as facilities for treatment have been created throughout the metropolitan area, and expansion is envisioned.

Excellent medical education is a hallmark of America's medical care system, yet not one medical school has opened in the United States the past 30 years. Hofstra University and North Shore-LIJ will co-own and operate a new medical school and the first class is currently being selected. Mr. Dowling told the group that 4,000 applications are ultimately expected and that the first year class will be comprised of only 40 students. The class will expand to 100 over the course of a short, few years.

A multitude of jobs continues to be created by the healthcare system that Mr. Dowling has created. Mr. Dowling said, "no one is perfect, but we always try to close the gap between where we are and where we want to be." In a troubled economy, Mr. Dowling is spearheading a remarkable effort to create a network that will provide jobs and stimulate the local economy, while creating a premiere network for provision of medical care and professional training. These impressive efforts will have a positive impact on thousands of people in the New York metropolitan area for years to come.

*For an idea of how many people are involved in the daily operation of a hospital, I highly recommend the You Tube video entitled "Pink Glove Dance."

Triumph over Adversity, a Good Story

I just finished reading the "Modern Love Column" in the 'Styles' section of today's Sunday New York Times. It is my favorite column of the week. The stories range from ones where love conquers all to those where love doesn't succeed. In today's column, love permitted the writer to move on from tragic losses. It made me wonder whether sadness is the sole impetus for evocative prose? Jeanette Walls's "The Glass Castle," which recounts a most fantastic childhood with mentally ill parents is riveting. Frank McCourt's book, "Angela's Ashes" was a remarkable ouvre. These works grab your attention.

A former colleague was a student of Frank McCourt's at Stuyvesant High School in New York City. He told me that McCourt had no patience for anyone who handed in a story that didn't include a healthy dose of suffering and deprivation. As far as McCourt was concerned, exposure to alchoholism was a necessary life experience. I suppose the man had a point; sad stories are compelling.

Tragic events provide dramatic action forcing change. To succeed, the change must be inspirational. Otherwise, the story wouldn't be worth telling. Certainly, had McCourt or Walls not overcome their pasts, they would not have been capable of writing their works. Perhaps someone else would have picked up the story of someone who survived a broken childhood only to continue a pattern of destitution. That story would just show how some people lack the ability to extract themselves from pathetic lives. A desperate situation is an attention grabber. The reader must find out what happens and how the protagonist emerges victorious. How did McCourt go from being an urchin to a distinguished educator? How did Walls end up living on Park Avenue while her mother scavenged in garbage cans? Somehow, they do move beyond their circumstances, and if they can do it, so, too, can the reader. The contrast is essential to the inspirational message. I suppose that we must accept that triumph over adversity is an essential ingredient to a story worth reading.