Category Archives: Education

Paragraph To Take Seriously

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From The New York Times.

“Mr. Trump also reiterated that he was interested in serving a third term, saying that he ‘would love to do it’ because of his popularity with his supporters. Mr. Trump, who spoke to journalists for about 30 minutes on a flight to Tokyo from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, during his almost weeklong trip to Asia, seemed intent on presenting himself as fit to lead, if not run for the presidency again.”

Cue nationwide ‘No Kings’ social protests and civil disobedience on a scale never seen in this country.

The Pandemic Lives

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When I press pause and reflect on the covid pandemic years, I can’t help but conclude we overcompensated for the very real public health risks. For example, now that we know more about the virus, I’m with a lot of people who have concluded we errored in closing schools for as long as we did. One weekend, our former governor even closed an outdoor park.

Like our former Luv Guv, except for the elderly, immune compromised, and otherwise physically vulnerable, many of us kind of lost our minds.

I can’t help but wonder if a covid pandemic “abundance of caution” mindset lives on in ways that might be related to the widespread conspiracy thinking that is so prevalent these days. Why? Because of the way some educated people spent September spreading fear about the safety of our pristine local lake.

First, an admission. Yes, sporadically, usually in the spring, Ward Lake has algae blooms that make swimming unhealthy and unwise.

In early summer, a member of Facebook’s Olympia Triathlon Training Group posted this missive, “FYI, possible but not confirmed toxic algae bloom at Ward Lake.” That’s all it took for lots of people to lose their minds. Rightly or wrongly, I blame the covid pandemic.

Here’s what the County reported about the lake.

So, nevermind that there wasn’t enough algae present to even warrant a sample/reading, and that actual swimmers said the lake looked perfectly fine, an “abundance of caution” took hold to the point that triathlete meet ups were cancelled because “of a potential toxic algae bloom”. That phrase was like a spark that started a wildfire. People repeated the phrase, which acted like a wind whipping up the flames.

Fast forward to yesterday when someone organized a meet up. Then this from another member, “Have you checked their contamination levels – a couple of weeks ago they had high levels and said no swimming. Just FYI.”

Sigh. This is the fire jumping a demarcation line. Despite the County saying very matter of factly that there was NO reading, this person inexplicably lobbed “high levels” and “no swimming” into the mix. What the hell?!

I spent a glorious hour in the lake yesterday morning minutes before this back-and-forth. But maybe my lived experience isn’t a credible counterfactual to the abundance of caution. I don’t even believe in QAnon.

Pop Culture Wins

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The Bear has cast a spell on me. I watch it in a transfixed state rooting for the restaurant and every single character. I’m doing my best to limit myself to one episode a day before dozing off. I slipped up today and watched Episode 4.9 in the middle of the day. Whether to watch the season finale tonight is one of the great ethical questions of our time.

Episode 4.9 produced not just the normal watery eyes, but actual tears thanks to Jamie Lee Curtis who they should just give whatever awards she’s eligible for. Tour de force.

I see critical headlines about the show’s lack of direction and slippage and just laugh. “Not reading that or that or that.” Because the writers are all wrong. Every season, hell, every episode is perfect.

Criticize the show and prepare to throw down.

Then there’s Haim’s new album, “I Quit”. Haim is single-handedly giving young hetero males hope. Their songs and vids are unabashedly hetero. And fun. And funny. Dig this lyric from “Take Me Back”.

“Alana lost her head when she had a crush
Billy St. Reams didn’t wanna fuck
Bad GPA, couldn’t get it up”

I don’t know BSR, but there’s no way he deserved that!

Here’s a different track from the album.

Extra credit if you know which one of the three love interests is on The Bear.

A Surprise Swing Dance For The Win

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A very good friend of mine has been “unlucky” in marriage. Three divorces. Although the first was so short, and he was so young, he doesn’t count it. A mulligan if you will. So, for all intents and purposes, twice divorced.

Of course, you and I both know luck has nothing to do with whether committed relationships endure.

After his last divorce, about five years ago, he looked in the failed relationship mirror, and really didn’t like what he saw, negative patterns of his own doing.

In no time at all, he fell hard for partner four. So hard, he turned to a therapist to avoid sabotaging it.

No dude in the history of dudes has ever told another dude everything they talk about with their therapist. But my friend has confided in me a bit about his therapeutic journey including his initial question of “Am I an asshole?” I could have saved him a lot of time and money by simply saying “No, you aren’t an asshole. Not even close.” But his initial question was his way of asking, “What’s wrong with me?” Which lead to, “What work do I need to do to avoid fucking up this relationship?”

Relationship Four really warms my heart. I asked him what explains his positivity and joy in this new relationship and without hesitating, he said, “We have fun together.” I herby submit that as a litmus test for any committed relationship.

I don’t know anyone over fifty who has pivoted as much as my friend. The key ingredients as I understand them—introspection, humility, vulnerability, and self-compassion. Inspiring stuff.

Fast forward to a text he sent this morning. And I quote, “And then to top the evening off, I showed M how I had spent the last five weeks secretly learning to swing dance to surprise her for her 50th birthday. Yes, that’s as much as I can manage after five weeks. I can’t dance! And I’m a slow learner.”

The low res video nearly brought me to tears. Just the two of them, swing dancing in front of a big ass swing band in a New York City club. It’s so beautiful. Because it represents so much damn growth. He’s prioritizing her happiness. And so the happiness comes back to him.

On my run this afternoon, I kept returning to the vid in my mind. And all the innumerable podcasts I’ve listened to and “think pieces” I’ve read that lament the problem of boys, and how to raise men, and how to teach masculinity.

My friend’s surprise swing dance is the most manly, most masculine thing imaginable. Because it’s the result of all the intrapersonal work he’s done.

I firmly believe the “boy-man-masculinity” discussion is completely pointless. Instead of asking, “What does it mean to be a man?”, we should ask, “What does it mean to be a decent human being?” Instead of obsessing about getting masculinity just right, we should shift our focus to the personal attributes we want all young people to embody, irrespective of their gender identities.

Especially how to be caring, kind, and selfless. I am incredibly proud of my friend for piecing together an equation that fosters those exact attributes.

Introspection + humility + vulnerability + self-compassion.

People Are Cheering Fifteen Percent?

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My writing about my family’s experience with Lynn’s Multiple Systems Atrophy has resonated with a lot of people here and on our CaringBridge site.

A recurring theme is they appreciate the “honesty”. And how I sometimes use humor to lighten things. And many of my readers, like me, are also “on the back nine” and so final chapters are more relevant than if I had a younger, hipper readership.

Honestly though, the “honesty” feedback perplexes me because I feel like I’ve only been able to paint about 15% of the picture. There’s way more that I’m leaving out than I am including.

But maybe, everything really is relative, and people are used to even far less transparency?

Of course, it’s impossible to perfectly quantify how much someone lets their readers in. Just know, when you listen, read, or watch anyone’s story, there’s always way, way more to it. Always.

Why aren’t you and I more forthright with others? More vulnerable? More honest especially about what’s most difficult. And about our related, negative emotions?

As a male, I have the excuse of not having been encouraged to communicate my emotions growing up. But I’m sure that’s true for boatloads of women too. And so that’s a lousy explanation that really doesn’t get at my reticence to be more honest.

Another explanation that I’ve touched on previously is not knowing how to be more honest without compromising others’ privacy. Hell, the picture I included with the last post, I got in trouble for it. Because it was a “tender moment”. Which is exactly why it was such a good picture. So there’s that. Lynn didn’t want me to share her tenderness with you. So what’s a writer to do?

Maybe, if I outlive her, and the odds in Vegas are that I will, I’ll be freed up to paint far more of the picture. Even 16-17%.

An Entirely Different Kind Of Marathon

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A year ago or so, when my wife’s Multiple System Atrophy (MSA) really started to take a toll on her and us, one of her close friends pulled me aside and said, “You’ve run a lot of marathons. This is going to be another one.”

It’s an apt metaphor until it isn’t. Apt in the sense that caring for my wife is daunting and it requires real endurance. And ultimately, it’s exhausting.

But when running marathons, there are markers every kilometer or mile that help you carve the total distance up into more manageable parts. “Okay, now I’m half done.” Or “Okay, now I just have to gut out a measly 10k.”

With MSA there are no markers unless you count steadily worsening mobility, steadily losing one’s voice, or steadily losing. . . pick the system. Despite my wife’s steady decline, I don’t know how to pace my caregiving, so cliché alert, it’s literally one day at a time.

Two aspects of it are especially hard.

The first is the utter selflessness required. A traditional marathon is almost entirely physical. It mostly boils down to whether you’ve put in the miles or not. In contrast, this caregiving marathon is entirely spiritual. Very simply put, the question is whether I can let go of all of my personal hopes and dreams to meet my wife’s immediate needs. All day. Every day. Over and over. And over.

I want to waste some time watching bad television, go away for the weekend, and sleep through the night uninterrupted, but I can’t do any of those things. Or much at all because there isn’t time.

We’re fortunate in that we’ve hired some help, which means I can squeeze in runs, rides, and swims, and thereby flush some of the stress. But some inevitably accumulates.

Recently, I approached a crosswalk in our nearby traffic circle at the start of a run. Not seeing me and thinking she would just roll into the circle, a driver approached the crosswalk way, way too fast and nearly clipped me. I straight-armed her bonnet and lost my shit. So much so she looked scared and immediately turned apologetic. For those scorekeeping at home, my anger was worser than her speeding. “Who have I become?” I wondered.

Which leads to the second challenge. Instead of mustering some semblance of self-compassion, which I’ve become convinced is probably the key to a good life, I continually beat myself up, concluding I’m not nearly up to the spiritual demands of providing the patient, selfless, and kind care my wife would undoubtedly provide me if the situation was reversed.

So, instead of saying to myself, “Ron, you’re doing the best you can to be as selfless as possible in very difficult circumstances.” I find myself thinking. “Because I lack the requisite spiritual depth, I’m doing a shit job caring for my wife.” Those are not constructive thoughts. But, they are mine.