Birthday Presence

Earlier this year, for the first time in my life, I celebrated my birthday without the woman who birthed me.  

No hug. No kiss. No early morning phone call with a beautifully strained rendition of the birthday song. 

Today is my mom’s birthday, the first since she passed.  No birthday dinner at Salute. No crème brulee with “Happy 79^th Birthday!” written on it for dessert.

But I will have dinner with my dad tonight. And on my birthday, I received an early morning call from my dad and my aunt Jane. They both gave a strained rendition of the birthday song. It wasn’t easy on  the ears, but it made a tough day a lot easier. I am lucky to have them.

Someone else was there on my birthday and will be there tonight.

My wife, Amy. I don’t know what I would do without her. (Sometimes cliches are the best way to express a truth.) Sure, I would go on, I would live; but it would have been in a deep, dark hole.  

Her birthday was two days ago. I always thought it was interesting and maybe a little weird but also very meaningful that my mother and my wife had birthdays so close together. I believe in the power of symbols and symbolism. I didn’t know what it meant, but it meant something. I don’t believe in Zodiac signs and the accompanying personal attributes, but I don’t dismiss them entirely because what the hell do I know? Maybe there’s something to it. The time of the year in which we are born probably has some impact on who we are, and there are a lot of similarities between my mother and my wife. My mother was an educator in an urban district. My wife is an educator in an urban district. My mother and wife spent most of their lives in Connecticut. They were both raised Catholic. They both love animals and traveling and reading and watching tv/movies. They are both generous and loving. The list is long. 

I think that our parents, for better or worse, have an enormous impact on who we are, but also on who we seek as partners. One of the things that I appreciate most about my wife is that she’s willing to tell me things I may not want to hear. I may not necessarily appreciate it in the moment, but eventually I come to accept the wisdom shared and the courage needed to share it. It’s hard to tell the person you love something that may upset them or challenge them. But true love requires it at times. Blind, unquestioning support isn’t true love. Good mothers know that. My mother knew that. She had to tell me things I didn’t want to hear quite often, actually. Sometimes it took me a long time, years even, to appreciate what she said. There were times when she maybe could have said it in a different way, but she was a high school teacher in Hartford raising two boys, so her approach was generally tough and direct. Sometimes I responded defensively.

How we treat our partners and how a parent treats a child will (should) differ, so my wife has a different approach with me. Also, she worked with pre-schoolers, and in general her approach is more sensitive and patient. Of course, sometimes I respond defensively with that approach, too, so clearly the problem is me. But regardless of the approach, the fact is, my mother and my wife are willing to tell it like it is. To tell me like it is.

When she was about 70 years old, my mom had surgery and she needed a wheelchair afterwards. This was a huge shift in her life. At the time, I just knew that she would never walk again. Most people, including my mom, probably knew that, too, but she desperately wanted to believe she would. She expressed that hope for years afterwards. It never happened. My pessimism won out. How smart of me. Clearly, the lesson there was to always be pessimistic.

Although I had certainly experienced many moments of sadness and melancholy regarding my mom’s condition ever since she told me she had Parkinson’s when I was 16, this was a turning point. For so many years, the main symptoms of Parkinson’s were trembling and stiffness, hardly noticeable for the most part. Around the time she turned 70, she was still walking, and cooking family meals, but she was bent over almost 90 degrees and moving very slowly. It was now obvious that she had a degenerative disease. That word “degenerative” was starting to really sink in.

Probably the worst part of growing up is watching age take its toll on your parents. It was very difficult to see my mom in a wheelchair, with the feeling/knowledge that she wouldn’t walk again. Also, at this point in her life, any time she’d have surgery or some medical incident that required a hospital stay, her Parkinson’s medications would be out of whack, which would cause a variety of negative effects to her mental and physical condition. There were moments where she was so far removed from the person I knew that my brain could hardly process it. I also think this was when she started suffering from depression, or it was already there and it went to the next level.

When my mom was home, Amy and I visited for dinner about every other week. Through childhood and high school, I considered my relationship with my parents to be very close, but I was never much in the way of extensive conversations with them. I was the typical teen boy, sitting at the dinner table, shoving food down my mouth as quickly as possible, and answering my mom’s questions with “yeah”. After I graduated college and eventually moved out of their house, even though we saw each other less, we became closer. Maybe because we saw each other less? Anyways, our conversations were a little more robust.

But as my mom’s condition worsened, the dinner conversations at my parents’ house became more difficult for me. It was as if I had reverted to my teen self. Withdrawn. Sullen. I wanted to be there with them, with her. I needed to be there, but it was difficult.

One time when she was still in the hospital or nursing home, we celebrated her birthday, or one of my niece’s birthdays. I’m feeling the effects of aging, too, so I can’t remember exactly, but the whole family was there. We had pizza and cake at the lounge area. At one point, I got up from the table, and my mom said something to Amy about “cheering me up” or something like that. She’s in a wheelchair with a progressive neurological disease, worried about me. She could tell how I was feeling, how down I was. I didn’t want to feel that way, but I couldn’t help it. And for several months, probably longer, dinners with my mom were mostly quiet. On my end at least. Amy and my parents would talk. I didn’t realize it at the time, lost in my thoughts, but I’m sure it was awkward for everyone. And I’m sure it hurt my mom to some degree.  

Sometimes with sadness, a lot of the actual emotion is self-pity. Not all the time, not even most of the time for most people, but some of the time. Even then, it’s not necessarily the dominant emotion, but it’s there, especially with the sadness that comes with seeing a loved one who is ill or dying. You lost or are losing someone you care for, and part of you can’t help but ask, “Why is this happening to me? Why is my mother dying? Why do I have to experience this pain?” Then there’s the guilt from feeling that way.

Grief is a son of a bitch.

Watching my mother suffer (quietly, never complaining) and her body deteriorate was torturous. In her presence, it was about all I could think about and I never knew what to say.

After a while of uncomfortable dinners, Amy finally addressed my near silence. She brought it up gently, saying something like I noticed you haven’t been saying much at dinners with your mom. I responded with something like, “that’s just our relationship,” and referenced my teen years. I tried to make it seem like not talking actually showed how strong our relationship was. I didn’t need to say anything, she knew how I felt. She knew how much I loved her. And maybe that was true. But it didn’t make the situation better. It didn’t make my mom, or me, happy. I think Amy brought it up a few times, and my response was always the same. I didn’t want to change anything. I didn’t think I needed to. She just didn’t understand.

Then she finally said, well, I think your mom would appreciate if you talked more. And I think it will help you. You don’t want to look back and regret not making the most out of these moments. You should try to be more present.  

Even after that, I was still stuck in my head for a while. I couldn’t help thinking about how much my mom had been through and that she would be gone soon. I didn’t know how to break through that thought process. I also wanted to inexplicably hang on to this idea that nobody knew my relationship with my mom better than I did and nobody could tell me how to interact with my mom.

But I also realized that Amy was saying all this out of love. She knew how I was suffering, even if I wouldn’t say it. She didn’t want me to live with the regret of not fully appreciating the moments I had with my mom. And I realized how difficult it must have been to say all that to me. Would I have been able to say the same thing to her if our positions were reversed? I hope so. Looking at it from that angle helped me finally see.

Living in the moment often requires blocking out the pain of the future. For so much of my life, I would always think of the inevitable end of something. So I maintained what I considered a healthy distance from everything. Sure, my team is winning, but they're going to eventually lose, so why care? (I'm sure that being a fan of the Dolphins and the Mets had something to do with that way of thinking, too.) Why give my all to a relationship when it’s just going to end eventually? Everything good will end, everyone will die. That is undoubtedly true. But so what? The future is not more important than the present. Bad things will happen, sure. But why experience the pain before it happens? Why mourn the living? I thought that way of thinking made me superior, it freed my mind. I could see through the bullshit, not like all of those ignorant, happy people! But in fact, it was a mentality that restricted rather than liberated. It denied the importance and the value of the present, when the present is all we have.

Your loved ones will die. It is a fact. But the pain of that loss will be there, waiting. You don’t need rush towards it. You don't need to focus on it while they’re still alive. There will be plenty of time to mourn.

Slowly but surely, I was more present at our dinners. I engaged in conversation. Making my mom laugh was a joy I hadn’t known in a while, and it became sort of a mission. I didn’t always succeed, and there were plenty of moments of sadness, but I didn’t let those moments overwhelm me and interfere with the connection I had with my mom.

I would never have been able to get through the sadness and self-pity to connect with my mom in her final years by myself. I would probably have never even thought I needed to. But I did need to. And I needed my wife, the love of my life, to tell me.

My mom spoke at my dad’s mother’s funeral. She thanked my grandmother, E-Mommy, for “teaching the man I love how to love.” That line broke me and completely ruined my own speech, which immediately followed hers (thanks, mom!) but it always stuck with me.

My mom taught me how to love, but my wife taught me how to love my mom when she needed it most. She taught me, or reminded me, the importance of being present, not just being “there,” for those we love.

I hope I have the courage and strength to say what needs to be said when it’s difficult and needed most. I hope to always be present for her.

I hope I am the man my parents taught me to be.

I love you, Amy. 

I love you, Mom.

Two Angels, Mom and Nola. 

I Love You All...Class Dismissed. 
 

Saint Ken

For his 79^th birthday, my aunt and I took my dad out to his favorite Mexican restaurant, Ocho Café in West Hartford. After we gorged ourselves on delicious tacos and enchiladas, the manager and a group of staff brought out a complimentary dessert and belted out their best heavily accented “happy birthday” rendition. My dad thanked the manager and told him how much he and my mom loved coming here. He then told the manager that my mom passed away a couple months ago. The manager replied, “we know, and we wanted to tell you that all of us here really admired the way you took care of her and brought her out to enjoy herself.”

My first thought, was, “How often did my parents come here?” My second thought was *cries loudly on the inside.*

When the nurse who was looking after my mom in the ICU heard that my mom was still living at home at the age of 78, with advanced Parkinson’s for many years and in a wheelchair for 5 years, she seemed shocked, and exclaimed, “You never see that. Usually, the husband puts them in a home.” Doctors had recommended he do just that several times over the past few years.

But see, my dad is not usual. In his mid and late 70s, before and after his own knee replacement surgery, he was helping my wheelchair-bound mom dress, use the toilet, go out to eat, visit family, and anything else she wanted or needed to do. Never mind the mental and spiritual toll of seeing your spouse in this condition, the physical toll alone is something most people would avoid.

At my mom’s funeral, I heard a lot of people say that my dad is a saint. Saint Ken. 

If people feel that way, I won’t refute it. Maybe it’s just my secular worldview, but I wouldn’t call him a saint. He’s not performing miracles. He’s a good man who is deeply committed to his loved ones, and he made a choice to remain committed until the very end. He wasn’t doing anything that “normal” humans aren’t capable of, even though most would never choose to; he was doing the hard work of loving and caring for someone with an illness into their final years. His wife needed him, and he was going to do everything he could possibly do to support her, and more importantly, give her life value.

My parents saw the value in all life. Recently, as the Covid pandemic raged around the globe, it was obvious that many people did not. When the stats showed that most people who died from Covid were over 65, pundits and politicians told us all we need to get back to work. Grandma and Grandpa dying is a worthy sacrifice if it increases the US GDP by half a percentage point!

I heard so many people just dismiss the elderly entirely. Dismiss life past a certain age. It messed me up because two of the people I care for most were deemed disposable. Then I thought, well shit. I’m 40. I guess I only have 25 meaningful years left.

The pandemic was not a fun time!

Our society prioritizes…idolizes…worships youth. While at the same time, our society hates kids. Duality! We prize beauty and vitality over wisdom and maturity. We pay any amount of money to look and feel young. To most people, “aging gracefully” means looking good by simulating youth. And if it’s not possible to look young, have the decency to never show your face in public. Or at least not during peak hours. Stick to the early bird specials. 

Did that mean that my parents, both in their 70s—one in a wheelchair with a degenerative neurological disease—were simply living ghosts? The Walking Dead, or The Rolling Dead? It was hard not to be angry all the time at a society that kept telling you your loved ones don’t matter.

But instead of getting angry…or, rather, in addition to getting angry…I realized that the most radical act in an uncaring society is to care, to value all life. I didn’t make that realization on my own. As the infamous DARE commercial once said, “I learned it from watching you, Dad.” (Ironically, I did not learn about drugs from my dad. Thanks, UConn! Go Huskies!)

My dad taught me, through his actions, to dare to find value in all life; dare to love people (and animals) that are sick, or even close to death, those deemed worthless.

In 2021, a few months after defeating cancer, my parents’ beloved good boy Cody died after a long, happy life. Long in dog years. It's never long enough. My parents always had a dog, and my dad always had a very strong bond with his dogs. He was especially close with Cody for many reasons. One reason was that Cody was there for him as my mom’s health deteriorated and she had to go in a wheelchair and she spent more and more time in the hospital. So it was a huge loss when Cody died. But as usual, he didn’t linger on the death and sadness; he started looking for another companion. There are no replacements for a lost pet, but you can begin a new relationship that can help you cope with the loss and that can grow into something just as meaningful.

So there was no doubt my parents would get another dog, and that it would be a rescue. I figured a puppy would be too much of a handful, but I didn't expect a shaggy, half blind, 8 year old dog named Hobbs. 

The more I think about it, the more it made sense. It wasn’t just about getting a new companion. He wanted to give another dog, neglected for most of its life, discarded by his owners, a chance at a good life.

I know a lot of people never consider adopting an older pet. For most people, the point is to have a pet for as long as possible. And for a bigger dog like Hobbs, 8 is not too far from his life expectancy. And he was mostly blind. So why go through all the trouble? What’s the point if the dog is going to die soon?

This mentality is common, but that doesn’t make it any less problematic. For one thing, it means that a lot of deserving older animals never get adopted and never have a chance for a decent life.  But I've also been thinking about what it means on a philosophical level. This refusal to adopt older animals reflects a lot about our feelings towards older people, and how we feel about the relation between time and life. 

When people think of age and life, most people value quantity over quality. They want to live a long life. Living longer means you won! But at the same time, as a society, we don’t value those people who live longer. We put them away in nursing homes or other facilities, which wouldn’t actually be too bad, if we properly funded those facilities. But once we place them there, if the healthcare services aren’t adequate, hey, that’s not our problem. We are young and full of life! Not like those old people. We’ll never be like those old people! Then when an old person dies, our fascination and respect for higher numbers comes back, and we say “oh they lived such a long life! 95 years…can’t ask for much more than that!” As a society, we have issues with age, is what I’m saying.

But my dad, and my mom, always valued quality over quantity. They cherished life, and they gave value to each other’s life and everyone they met. Every animal they met, too. Hobbs could have spent his last days or months in a kennel, waiting to die or be put down by strangers. Instead, he had a great last 9 months with my parents and their cat, Max.

Max, another rescue, another pet with an eye problem. My dad got Max about two years after my parents’ sweet cat Kay  passed away. It was soon after my mom had The Incident that kept her in the hospital and nursing home for a while. When she was in there, taking all types of new drugs—and often missing her regular Parkinson’s drugs because the nurses were not trained for that because of the lack of proper funding for the facilities that I mentioned earlier—she kept hallucinating and seeing cats in the room. She told everyone she was trying to save these cats and she even tried to recruit people who visited her to help her save the cats.

So, when she finally came home, guess who was waiting to meet her? Literally the cat of her dreams. Well, one of the cats from her dreams.

Then, Max almost immediately clawed her arm to shreds. But it was out of love! And they became inseparable friends. And my dad loves cats, too, so it wasn’t an entirely selfless act, but it was just another example of the thoughtfulness behind his actions.

After Hobbs died, the search for another companion began, and shortly after, Archie arrived from Louisiana. Now, outside of New Orleans, Louisiana is as backwoods as you can get, and their views on animals are a little different than in New England. The story goes, his owner kept him outside and at some point even the minimal effort to keep a dog alive was too much, so she decided she would shoot him and open up her schedule for more Dr. Phil reruns and Miller Lite. Thankfully he was rescued and eventually paired with my father. Another disregarded life my dad would take care of.

Archie arrived thin and scared, with fur falling off and his tail between his legs. He would slink away from most people and barely eat.

That lasted a few weeks. With the love and care of my dad, he was soon flourishing, greedily eating the crumbs off my mom’s lap, prancing over to meet me at the door when I visited. No surprise at all, really. Another soul saved by Saint Ken. 

  

Technically, anyone can do what he does. It’s a choice, followed by determination and commitment. Many people choose not to. They choose not to rescue animals when they are looking for pets, opting for the popular, specialized, expensive breeds. They choose not to take the older dogs, the disabled dogs, the difficult dogs. They choose not to stand by their wife as her body fails and her mind slowly deteriorates. They choose not to help their spouse eat and dress and wash, day in and day out. They choose not to sit by their spouse's hospital bed until the very moment that cherished life leaves her body in gasps and then whispers. They choose not to confront the most difficult aspects of life head on with kindness and humility.

And it’s not that he never lost patience. He just never let a bad or weak moment extend into a habit. It’s not that he never made a mistake. He just never gave up. He was inspired by my mother’s resilience and determination, but she was just as inspired by his. Her life was literally extended by his resilience and determination and support. 

Not only was it extended, it was enhanced. Even when she was confined to the wheelchair, her life was enriched because my parents chose to give value to life. I don’t know what the meaning of life is, but I know it is not to simply live a long time. We, as individuals, as family and community members, give it meaning. For my dad, giving to others, helping others, gives meaning to his life. Whether it’s in his role as a husband, brother, father or grandfather, he is a provider, someone who can always be relied on. He was a coach and a father figure to countless kids, including all my friends and my brother’s friends. 

I’ve learned so much from my father throughout my entire life. He’s taught me some things directly, but mostly he teaches by example. For the last few years, he’s taught me one of the most important lessons of all: how to age gracefully. Although I don’t look forward to the golden years of knee replacement surgeries and arthritis, I can only hope to always emulate his approach to life. I hope to be able to provide my wife with the love and support and quality of life that he provided my mom. I hope to be a person that my family and friends can always rely on. I hope to always find value in life, despite any disability or illness or the proximity of death.

I often doubt my ability to do what he did for my mom. I hope I never have to prove myself. Maybe I am capable. Maybe we all are, and when we are faced with those situations, it really does come down to choice. Or maybe most people are simply incapable and he really is a saint. Regardless, I hope to live my life the way he has. I hope to give value to the lives of those I love. He didn’t pass on his good hair genes to either of his sons, but maybe he passed on the dedication and commitment and thoughtfulness genes. 

And since I still need the lessons, hopefully he can continue to teach me by example for many more years. At least until he's 95. That's a good, long life. Can't ask for much more than that! 

I Love You All...Class Dismissed. 

Look at Yourself, America!

Hey everybody, it's The United States of America's 242nd birthday! I gotta be honest with you America...you look like shit! On this Independence Day, it's time to take a long look in the mirror...

The Muslim Ban is now federal law!

Our government has taken over 2500 immigrant children from their parents with no plan to reunite them!

Actually, we don't know how many children they have (some estimates say over 11000) because the White House refuses to answer questions and the Department of Homeland Security is no longer providing that information!

Crossing the border illegally is a misdemeanor, and not one of the children or parents in detention camps are in MS-13!

There are 33,000 documented instances of abuse by ICE between 2010 and 2016 alone!

The former Chief Counsel of ICE was just arrested for stealing immigrants' identities!

ICE recently doubled its supply of M4 rifles and signed a $15 million contract with Colt firearms!

It's such an inhumane agency, even ICE agents want to abolish ICE!

The Trump administration is now looking to deport naturalized immigrants, aka US citizens!

Undocumented immigrants who have been here for decades and committed no crimes, some who have even served in the military, are being torn from their families and deported!

Legal immigrants are getting locked up for misdemeanors they committed 25 years ago!

The Trump administration has almost completely stopped taking in refugees, and the US is the reason those people are refugees in the first place!

The US is actively engaged in conflicts in Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, Niger, Somalia, and Yemen, using never-ending drone strikes and even more troops on the ground! although we'll never know because the Pentagon is no longer telling the public that information!

With the Yemen War, we have contributed to the worst humanitarian crisis in history!

10% of the homeless population is made up of US veterans!

Five US journalists were slaughtered at their office last week!

School shootings! Oh so many school shootings!

Also mall shootings! Movie theater shootings! Nightclub shootings! Concert shootings!

A black congresswoman has been threatened with lynching!

An opioid epidemic ravages the country while nobody does anything about it!

Rising healthcare and pharmaceutical drug costs, despite Trump's pledge to take on the pharmaceutical companies and give "the best health care to everybody"! Those same pharmaceutical companies making billions are directly responsible for the aforementioned opioid epidemic!

That fucking wall!

The President's main adviser is a Fox news pundit who promoted a conspiracy that Democrats killed a guy for leaking information and that top Democrats were running a pedophile ring at a pizza shop!

Trump legitimized the brutal dictator in North Korea, then claimed to have brought world peace, while the brutal dictator continues to increase his nuclear arsenal!

Nazis....Nazis everywhere! Literal Nazis are running for Republican congressional seats!

White people are still calling the police on minorities just for existing!

Police are still killing people, harassing minorities, and altogether abusing their power!

A 3 year old girl was awarded a $2.5 million settlement after a Chicago police officer pointed a gun at her chest!

The taxpayers have to cover that settlement!

Flint still has dirty water!

Thousands of water systems across the country have too much lead in the water!

Corporations have been using the enormous tax cut to buy back their own stocks at a record amount!

We now have the largest wealth gap in US history!

Donald Celebrity Apprentice Trump has appointed over 40 federal judges for LIFE!

Trump has appointed one Supreme Court justice and will pick another one...for LIFE!

The head of the Environmental Protection Agency actively hates the environment and is using the position to live like a King, while removing regulations on clean water and air!

An elvish hobgoblin, who was too racist to be a judge 30 years ago, runs the Department of Justice!

Former national parks and monuments have been opened up for drilling after Trump said he was returning the land "to the people"!

The Trump Organization continues to make money off the presidency by opening up hotels in other countries! Plus, foreign diplomats literally pay to stay in his DC hotel to influence him!

The Trump Foundation, a "charity" run by the Trump Organization, was really just a scheme to pay off his debts!

Trump University was determined to be a fraud and forced to pay a $25 million settlement...and 63 million people still voted for him!

Our President is punishing our closest allies, rewarding and befriending our worst enemies, making it harder for small businesses to operate, monetizing the presidency, embracing and endorsing white nationalism and open bigotry, and he has endorsed a pedophile, all while under investigation for corruption and standing accused of sexual assault by 19 people!

Top Democrats are worried more about "civility" than everything just mentioned!

Republicans now claim they want more civility, but they called the last President a foreign-born, Muslim monkey, and for the past 3 decades they've claimed that "PC culture is ruining the country!"

Democrats and Republicans worked together to pass a defense budget with an $80 billion increase! That increase alone could've paid for free college for every eligible American! Yay civility!

Stuttering John, a washed up comedian from the old Howard Stern show, outsmarted the entire Trump administration!

It was fun while it lasted yall! Happy final birthday, America!

I Love You All...Class Dismissed.