What You Do Speaks So Loudly I Can't Hear A Word You're Saying

 "Standing in a garage doesn't make you a car anymore than going to church makes you religious."

Now, you may wonder why that particular quote.  It's simple:  I just love it and to me it speaks of people who say they are one thing while their actions say something else.

Years ago, when I started my nonprofit for grieving children, I went to a special event for charitable organizations.  While seated at a table to publicize my organization, a woman came by.  Upon reading the poster describing what we did, she clutched her fists to her chest, and said, with much pathos, "I feel too much and I care too deeply to ever do that."  As she fled from our table, I turned to the colleague seated to my left and said, "As opposed to those of us who feel nothing, don't care at all, and do it."

The woman didn't fool me.  She was only interested in her own feelings. Had she truly cared, she would be compelled to act.

This brings me to people who abandon their loved ones at the end of life because it is "too hard for [them]" or they "don't want to remember [their] mother, father, sister, brother, friend, that way."  They are not more caring or more sensitive than those of us who drop everything and show up.  They are focused only on their own feelings and not considering what their presence would mean to the person dying.  I want to be kind and say they are weak or it really is too much for them.  But not one of us finds it easy to watch someone we love die.  And it is even more difficult when we are the ones watching our loved one struggling to hold on to life as he or she waits to say good-bye to the adult child who will never come.

I want to say this to all of you who think you can't be at the bedside of your dying relative:  Go.  Please go.  It isn't easy, but if you don't go, you miss the opportunity to be present at a truly sacred moment.  You'll  like yourself a whole lot more if you know you did the right and loving thing.

Money-Free Guaranteed Way to Smooth Away All Your Wrinkles

Dying.

Yes, you read right:  I said, "Dying."

This year I've been at the bedside of countless people at the end of their lives and the one consistent thing I've observed is their beautiful, wrinkle-free skin.

I hate to think that I have to wait until I'm almost dead to have young skin again.  Seeing people so close to taking their last breath makes me realize how silly it is to worry about wrinkles.   I am fortunate to be able to get out of bed in the morning, take a look at my wrinkling face, and go out and experience another day of life.  Yes, there are wrinkles, especially around my mouth, but I can use those crinkled lips to give you a smile that will brighten your day.  I can use that mouth to make you laugh, make you feel good, or just to simply say, "Thank you," "I'm sorry," or "I love you."

I'll take the wrinkles.  I'm in no hurry to be on my deathbed.

My Dad in Black & White

Ever since I was 12, my father has been visually no more than a black and white photo.  Despite existing  solely in this physical image, his emotional and spiritual presence has guided my life.

Once he was dead, he became the always loving father I could go to for consultation and comfort on any subject.  He never yelled or criticized.  He didn't live long enough to be challenged by my teenage rebellion.

He also never hugged me or kissed me as I grew from child to teen to woman.  He never attended my graduations from junior high, high school, or college.  He never walked me down the aisle.  I didn't miss him at those times and it wasn't until I reflected back years later that I realized I hadn't noticed his absence.  His absence was simply the way life was so I didn't expect him to be there and never felt gypped.

I am now approaching the anniversary of his death.  I always remember the day he died and am probably the only one who does.  But some anniversaries are more significant:  the first, fifth, tenth, and every following decade. 
This anniversary is unique and cries out for attention.  The reason:  my father has been dead for as many years as he lived.  He died at 48 and this Friday, November 20th, it will be 48 years since his death.

Forever young.

Someone Stole My Excuses

Last night all my excuses for the jiggly thighs and hips, stomach pooch, and flapping triceps, were stolen from me by my friend, Susan.  Susan and I are the same age -- well, she is a little younger, by a whopping four months.  There she was in her golf skirt with nary a wrinkly knee and not a drop of cellulite in sight.  Her arms look good, her face looks young, and she has an enthusiasm for life that is contagious. 
How does she do it?
The old-fashioned way:  she works hard and plays hard.  Exercise is part of her life.  Yesterday was one of her relaxed days:  only 18 holes of golf, a bike ride, then a dinner party.  I've known days where she's played two sets of tennis, taken a 50-mile bike-ride, and followed that with 18 holes of golf.
To say she's in great shape would be a serious understatement -- she's in fabulous shape.
If she weren't such a wonderful person, I'd have to hate her for stealing my excuses.  So it's back to the Wii and the 30-day killer challenge, rather than the random program I can select that won't push me to the point of feeling my achy muscles tomorrow.
So ache I must.  All in the service of getting myself back into great shape.
I guess it will feel better to thank Susan than to hate her.

Why Do We Need Medical Insurance?

The focus is all wrong!  We don't need medical insurance, we need to eliminate the middle man by getting rid of the medical insurance companies.

When I was a child, we didn't need medical insurance.  Our doctors made house calls and neither they nor hospitals charged such exhorbitant rates that an operation would break a family's finances.

When I was in my twenties,thirties, and yes, even forties, my medical insurance made sense. In my twenties, I I had surgery, and my insurance covered everything.   Then came co-pays:  they used to mean that when I went to the doctors or had a procedure, I paid the $35 co-pay and that was it.  The insurance company paid the rest.  Not so today.  Today, the co-pay is just the first payment of continuing charges.

And let's talk about deductibles.  Even my car insurance still knows what that is.  For my car, if I have a $500 deductible, I pay that amount and then the insurance company pays the rest.  Not so with my health care.  I have no idea what the deductible means today.  I met the $2,000 co-pay months ago, and I am still paying through the nose.  Add to that, the insurance company decides whether medications my doctor deems in my best interest should be covered or not.  And even worse, they've upped my insurance by almost $300 a month while continuing to decline services.

Here's a good one.  The insurance company proudly says that they care about my health and I'm allowed a free annual mammogram.  Free apparently means that I pay the total bill -- all $1,400, after the hospital, upon realizing the insurance company wouldn't pay, reduced their bill.  The insurance company always boasts how much of a reduction they've managed to get for me and the truth is, we could eliminate this useless third-party, not have the high monthly payments, and negotiate directly with our doctors and medical facilities to get our bills reduced.

The insurance companies are useless blood suckers.  Younger people have no idea what good medical care is and what good medical insurance is.  What we have now is a system so broken the only thing that would help is to simply get rid of the leeching medical insurance companies.

Do I sound upset?  You bet I am.  I was on medicine that required weekly blood tests to make sure I wasn't going to bleed to death.  The insurance company proudly said that thanks to them my weekly cost was reduced from $50 to $25.  The catch:  they were only paying $3 and I had to pay the rest.  I'm so glad I get to keep paying them almost $800 a month before I have to pay the medical bills which they barely cover.

Politicians:  Listen up.  We don't need the insurance companies.  We need good medical care!

The One And Only Secret to Anti-Aging

Die young.

Passing By Normal

When I was in my twenties  I went into therapy (something that wasn't done by too many back then) with the hopes that I could become normal.

I worked really hard on myself and one day, voila, I made it to "normal."

I immediately saw it for what it was -- lots of really messed up people all tryng to be like everyone else.

I then decided that I didn't want to be normal: I wanted to be me.

And so it has been ever since. It's not always an easy thing to do because traveling to one's own drummer means there will be people who don't understand and there will be times you find yourself not thinking about things the way most people do.

And that's okay.

I certainly am not like everyone else, but then again, who really is?

P.S.  The benefit of just being yourself with everyone:  When people love you, you know it is the real you (the one who lives inside) that is being love.