"I'm the Oldest Person I Know."

I'm 95 years old, and you know what? That's old.

I'm the oldest person I know.

That's Grandma. As a kid, I can't say we got along. There were some strong opinions involved, some -- shall we say -- incidents. Like the time she called my mother from 100 miles away insisting that we wear sweaters "because it's cold over here." Or the time she entered my room while I was away and straightened it up "just a bit." I wanted to kill her.

Grandma has always held strong opinions about everything. She was into raw foods and organic produce long before the rest of California discovered them. She firmly believed, and continues to believe, that fluoridated water is evil reincarnate, and that women who do not make efforts to "look smart," (that is, dress well and apply make-up) are doing humanity some sort of general disservice.

Through the years, her letter-writing has had me in stitches. There's the time I wrote her from summer camp to report on my recent swimming lessons, and received a reply that she, too, was learning to swim. At age 70. "But," she confided, "I don't like to put my face in the water." (I could relate to that).

And not one of my fellow campmates received, as I did, letters signed with the valuable but ill-timed advice, "Remember to eat lots of organic lettuce!" I neglected to return her counsel with the sad but true reality that at camp we were lucky to get some limp iceberg with our suspiciously-tinted beef patties and soggy fries.

This year, my grandmother is, as she puts it, "really feeling my age." Everything is a process; getting dressed, preparing meals, even -- I assume -- going to the bathroom, although this has yet to come up in conversation. A couple of months back she fell down in her kitchen and, in typical Grandma style, refused to tell anyone about it for fear she'd be dragged to the hospital for endless tests (eventually that is exactly what happened). She's okay now, having rested at home for a short time, after which she systematically rejected the help of every home care nurse and social worker available.

During her recuperation she refused to go outside, for fear she would be spotted using a walker by one of her fellow retirement community-neighbors in her, and subsequently be labeled an old lady.

* * * * *

The other day I asked Grandma for her insights about aging.

Grandma: I don't like old people. Even myself....I have to listen to myself all the time, and I get tired of it. I'm always trying to change things.

Me: What do you mean by that?

G: I would realized what I'm doing, and change what I'm thinking, and reject it.

Me: Like what?

G: Like walking like a duck. I reject it. Like being critical about people. Things really aren't that important, you know? I'm trying to resist some of the earmarks of old people.

I once read in an old copy of New Scientist, a British popular science weekly, that neurological imaging at different stages of life has shown that older people have a tendency to "mellow out" over time, not getting as worked up neurologically about those little things that get under the skin of most the rest of us. In other words, over time, older people gain perspective, at the most basic neurological level.

Sometimes, after a frustrating conversation with Grandma, my family will say, "Oh, she's acting like an stubborn old person again." But I'm not so convinced. No question, she's still stubborn, way beyond the rest of us, but she's always been like that. If anything, she's calmed down a bit over the years.

She's not acting old -- she's acting Grandma.

If you'd asked me as a child whether my grandmother would ever mellow out, I wouldn't have answered positively. I wouldn't describe her as mellow now. Despite her refusal to receive help, for the most part her obstinate behavior benefits her. She's already lost some of her mobility, much of her eyesight, and most of her friends to old age. But when she tells me she's gained a new perspective on herself and others, I believe her. She just wants her body, and her life, to stay just the way they are. Don't we all?

(Get to know Grandma a bit better in Imagine the Alternatives and At Least I Can Explain Two Tin Cans).

Keep the balance,

ALN

Balanced Parenting

Thank you to The Rebbetzin's Husband for this beautiful post on parenting.  Like him, I don't feel I am living up to it, either... but it's worth a try, and he gives us some excellent guidelines.  

ALN

At Least I Can Explain Two Tin Cans and a String

This morning on the way to work I called my grandmother.  (I know, I know - chastise me later.  For the record, I used an earphone and dialed before pulling out of the driveway).   

My morning commute is one of the only times I can call her.  I'm usually on the road by quarter to seven in the morning  -- that's 8:45 pm Pacific, a relatively lively hour for her -- and none of my kids are around to do that thing kids are known to do as soon as Mommy gets on the phone, which is to appear out of nowhere with some sudden and exceedingly urgent concern in need of your immediate and total attention.

Grandma:  So, what did you think of the speech?  

Me:  (Speech. Speech?  What speech?...  Oh, THAT speech.)  Actually, Grandma, I had to miss the speech.  I have to be at work for a 7:30 meeting.  I'll catch it later, on the internet.  (to self:  Oops.  That last comment was completely useless).

G:  People are saying he sounded, well, very presidential.

Me:  Yeah, that would make sense, under the circumstances.

* * * *

Later I was reminded of a question I'd been meaning to ask Grandma during our mutual visit in Southern California;  namely, would she be interested in receiving a digital picture frame so she could receive updated pictures of the kids on a more regular basis.  Only I had no idea how to phrase the question.  I made a mental note of a couple of previous Grandma conversations my younger brother had recounted.

Grandma:  Did you also get copies of those photos that your Mom sent of [ALN] and the kids?

Younger Bro:  Yah, Grandma, she sent them directly to me by email.

G:  So you already hung them on your fridge?

YB:  No, Grandma, they're digital.  They're still on my computer, I haven't gotten them printed, so I can't hang them.

Grandma:  But I thought you just said she already sent them to you?

YB:  No, Grandma, they're --  (Never mind).  Yeah, I put them on my fridge.

* * * *

And that conversation doesn't begin to compete with this one, between Grandma, Younger Bro, and Sister-in-Law, while the latter two were showing Grandma some pictures on their laptop.

Younger Bro:  So, Grandma, what do you think?

G:  Yeah, that's nice.  Uh, what did you say this was called?

YB:  This is a photo browser.  It allows you to view photos, edit them, add text, run a slide show, or publish to the web.  (Grandma looks puzzled).

Sis-in-Law: (shaking her head at YB)  Grandma, this is a computer.

G:  (Face lights up)  Oh...  A computer.

Retrospectively, maybe the two of them should have borrowed my college roommate L's one-size-fits-all explanation of how these things work:  Magic.  Except that Engineer Bro and I grew up with Engineer Dad, who used to made us solve math problems by drawing on the napkins at the dinner table, and who's always insisted on understanding how things really work, by researching and preparing explanatory articles complete with illustrative diagrams.  So while "magic" sounds good, we know better than to buy that one.

* * * *

I remember hearing a Lubavitch concept: "If you know aleph, teach aleph,"  (i.e. teach as much as you know, and don't worry about the rest for now).  So here I was, driving the car, talking on the phone to the other side of the world (another nice piece of magic, wouldn't you say?), while my left- and right- brains were making a united attempt to translate into Grandma-ese an explanation of digital photography, the internet, and wi-fi technology, none of which (let's be honest) I really understand myself.  But I tried anyway.  I figure, at least she'll understand that I respect her enough to assume she might follow.

Our review of digital picture frames eventually came to a close with her concluding that it would be nice to have such a thing, but actually using it would be completely beyond her.  

I'll look into it anyway.  If it does work out and we end up buying her one, I only hope she won't try to hang it on her fridge.

Keep the balance,

ALN

The Millennials (and Their Helicopter Parents)

Interesting how the blogosphere reaches many of the same issues from so many different viewpoints. I've been meaning to post on this one for awhile, and others' recent material was enough of an incentive to get to it now.

Last month my Dad was fortunate to attend a talk by lawyer and business advisor Mary Crane. These days, Ms. Crane is famous for her lectures to business leaders and general audiences on the topics of style differences, business ethics, gender gaps and generation gaps in the workforce. Regarding the last, she explains why the twenty-somethings now entering the workforce ("Gen Y," or "Millennials") are the way they are, and how their behavior and attitudes are often at odds with those of the previous generations, namely,

"Traditionalists (born before 1946),

Boomers (born between 1946 and 1962), [and]

Gen X (born between 1962 and 1982)..."

Before reading on, I highly recommend this recent 60 Minutes feature. If you only have a few minutes, listen to the opening piece, in which Morley Safer nicely summarizes the phenomenon. He continues by interviewing business executive and Gen Y expert Marian Saltzman, who notes that there are two types of Millennials: those who work hard, and those who are basically spoiled brats. Her advice on how to work with them:

You can't be harsh. You cannot tell them you're disappointed in them. You can't really ask them to live and breathe the company, because they're living and breathing themselves and that keeps them very busy.

Later, Mary Crane is shown giving a training seminar to Millennials entering the workforce, on the subject of workplace basics -- and I mean basic basics, like how to eat with a knife and fork. In her analysis,

You now have a generation coming into the workplace that has grown up with the expectation that they will automatically win, and they'll always be rewarded, even for just showing up.

...The Boomers [are] going to have to start focusing more on coaching rather than bossing. If you tell [the Millennium] generation in particular, You gotta do this, you gotta do this, they truly will walk, and every major company knows this is the future.

(On a personal note, I was once "privileged" to have a spoiled Millennial on my staff, and I can attest that she made life miserable for me, and for many of her colleagues. She regarded work orders as mere suggestions, which she accepted or rejected at will. She regularly blamed others for her own errors, and, yes, acted as though she deserved a medal just for showing up, all while whining about what a sensitive soul she was. At the end of the year she was told she was being transferred to a different department, and she refused, quitting her job instead. Good riddance).

One of the reasons the Millennials can get away with their behavior is that they know that there are more job positions than candidates. They've learned quickly that they don't face a lot of competition, so why work too hard?

The culprit? WSJ columnist Jeffrey Zaslow tells us, no-holds-barred: Mister Rogers. When you read Zaslow's piece (highly recommended), it starts to make a lot of sense. Sort of.

The real culprit? (Breathe. This is the hard part). It's us. The parents of Gen Y. (Ok, not me in particular -- I'm a Gen X, in the midst of mucking up Gen Z. But for the moment, I'll join you Boomers in solidarity). In the words of finance professor Don Chance, quoted in Zaslow's column, it's not Fred Rogers per se, but rather him as a "representative of a culture of excessive doting." Our own doting, on our own kids. Professor Chance compares his Asian-born students with their American counterparts. The former see a lower grade as an incentive to improve in their studies, while the latter "hit you up for an A because they came to class and feel they worked hard."

Apparently it's no longer unusual for parents to call the professors and demand a better grade for their kids. The grade-school version of this is known as helicopter parenting: the parents who hover over their child correcting every homework error; who drop everything to run a forgotten lunch bag over to school; who call the teacher demanding perfect test scores for their precious child. And the trend continues into the workforce, with Boomer parents calling their children's bosses to demand a raise.

Returning to our humble jblogosphere, many have recently referred to a shidduch (matchmaking-based dating) process tainted by hollow standards, an over-emphasis on family reputation, and generally unrealistic expectations. Many threads have begun to expose, denounce and tackle this problem, so prevalent within the religious community, but for the moment I'll direct you only to one, Conversations in Klal, who offers a Boomer-generation comparison.

Here's where my generation differs greatly from today's generation: we knew that our paper dolls were playthings and nothing more than that. We had no expectations that our paper creations were suddenly going to appear in front of us in the flesh. We knew that the make believe worlds we created for our dolls were just that: make believe.

While I don't particularly relate to the paper doll imagery (Gen X was more of a Barbie generation), her point is clear: If you want to find a real relationship, get hold of some realistic expectations.

That sounds about right, but it leaves me with a question: Where did this generation's expectations come from?

It could be that dating was a lot more fun in the Sixties, and that it has led to more solid, happier marriages. It very well could be that those realistic expectations prior to marriage, provided a solid base for realistic expectations throughout the marriage. But we have no way of knowing if that explain a higher divorce rate today, because the reality is complicated. For example, to really understand why more Boomers stayed married, we'd have to factor in the idea that for Gen X, divorce is far more socially acceptable than it was a generation ago, even in the religious world. Forty years ago, unless you were a Hollywood couple, you just put up with a painful or abusive marriage. Divorce was shunned, and generally illegal. My generation doesn't recognize a world without "no-fault" divorce. Over the past decade or two, my parents' generation has come to accept -- and sometimes embrace -- this new social reality, and back out of miserable marriages as well.

I believe there's a direct connection between the "Millennials in the workforce" issue, and our society's dating problems, and I think we have a lot to learn from the business world, at least in terms of how we frame the problem. If we're really going to tackle this, we'll need to help Gen Y-er's come to terms with their expectations of themselves and of others, in all facets of their lives. But first, we'll have to come to terms with our own expectations -- realistic and otherwise -- of them.

I would love to be able to offer more concrete solutions, and if you have any, please share them. Meanwhile, at least we've begun to define the problem, the first step toward determining the answers.

Keep the balance,

ALN