Anderson Cooper & His Mom

I recently watched parts of  the Anderson Live! episodes that explored surviving loss and rebuilding your life in the aftermath.

I found it touching and almost too private to watch Anderson Cooper and his mother talk about their personal reactions to the sudden loss of two very close loved ones from their lives.  I really wanted to know what they did to survive such shocking and tragic deaths but at the same time their thoughts were so candid that I almost wondered if they were aware that the cameras were rolling.

It's courageous and incredibly helpful for the greater good when celebrities such as CNN reporter and talk show host Anderson Cooper and his mother, former fashion designer and heiress Gloria Vanderbilt, publicly discuss how they coped with loss and allow others to know about the sadness and anxiety that enveloped their lives and what helped them start to heal. 

Anderson Cooper and his mother, Gloria Vanderbilt

Cooper's father and Vanderbilt's husband Wyatt Emory Cooper, died at the age of 50 during open heart surgery. Vanderbilt never married again. Anderson was only ten years old when his father died. A decade later, an even more horrifying tragedy struck the Vanderbilt-Cooper family: Cooper's brother, Carter. leapt to his death while Vanderbilt was trying to coax him away from a ledge in the family's New York City apartment building.

I don't see it as an attempt to grab ratings.  If that were the case, they could do so many other things or talk about so many other attention getting  subjects to boost televisions ratings rather than talk about their grief, a subject which most people consider to be a downer.

Loss can shattter your heart and scramble your psyche and in bringing the subject of grief to daytime television, Cooper and his mother went a long way in breaking the long accepted barrier of hiding grief feelings.  When people see Cooper and Vanderbilt talking about their pain, then they sometimes give themselves permission to start to feel comfortable talking about their pain and their sorrow with their family and friends.  Hopefully, grief then becomes less of a taboo subject.

Cooper and his mom could very easily have kept quiet about that sad part of their lives and only shared those feelings and thoughts about their losses with those they trust.  But instead, they decided to take those feelings from a private place and talk about them on television, putting them out in a public forum, making themselves vulnerable by exposing their pain, confusion and shock.

 

I hope the fearless way that Anderson Cooper and his mother, Gloria Vanderbilt, intimately talked about the deaths of their father/husband and brother/son helped them gain additional strength as they continue to acknowledge their feelings about their loved ones and rebuild their lives.  As they have said themselves, it is something that never leaves them.  From the comments that others wrote on www.andersoncooper.com there is no doubt that the Anderson Live! episodes dedicated to grief, love and loss helped and inspired many, many others also trying to cope with similiar feelings of loss.

No matter what walk of life you are from, baring your soul and revealing your feelings is about the basic human need to connect with others.  It's making our best effort to help each other through tough times.  Connections between people who care is what life is all about.  Feeling that another human being understands, likes, respects, enjoys or loves you for being you makes the vulnerability worthwhile.

I felt that connection from others many years ago when I went to my bereavement support group for almost two years and I still feel that connection when I talk to certain people about my husband's death.  It's truly a powerful feeling and it helps you go on with your life.

Here a bit of Anderson Cooper and Gloria Vanderbilt's story of survival:

 

Election Chatter

American Flag in Ocean City, MD

Maybe you talk about politics.  Maybe you don't.

Either way, we have 86 days to go until Election Day and now that the presidential and vice presidential tickets for both parties are set, it's going to be a long, hard slog.

How to survive in Washington, DC and remain hopeful that everyday conversation can remain civil?

It is possible.  Vent while you're putting your make-up on, while you're taking a shower, while you're walking around the house.

Or don't get sucked into negative energy.  One positive and healing action I have been following over the past few weeks is boycotting the local and national morning television programs.  I look forward to watching the 7 pm evening news but I am doing my bit for energy conservation by not turning on the television in the morning.  It has become a wasteland.

If I want to find out about the weather or traffic before I leave for work, I go on the internet and look it up.  The majority of stories that air in the morning are not news stories -- the celebrity drivel is off the charts -- and half the time I'm not even sure that the reporting is accurate.  It's the same stuff over and over again because the television stations need to fill air time. 

So let them fill it.  I'm just not watching and OMG my outlook on the upcoming day is now so much calmer.

The issue of staying hopeful during these times is also addressed in September 2012's Oprah magazine and Donna Brazile, a weekly contributor and political commentator on CNN's The Situation Room, wrote the following insightful piece:

How Can I Stay Hopeful?
If the nightly news makes you want to ditch civilization and move to a desert island, you're not alone.  Here's how Donna Brazile keeps engaged.

Ten years ago, I was hired by CNN as a pundit, bloviator, spin master -- and those are just the nicer names for what I do.  It was an incredible opportunity for someone like me, who enjoys the political process -- but it came with certain risks to the soul.  News shows are often formatted like gladiator battles: The Democrat goes "head-to-head" with the Republican; we "faceoff"; one person "slams" the other.  I've been called a racist because I support affirmative action; I've been called a bad Catholic because I believe in birth control.  At the same time, I'm supposed to vilify the opposing side.

I often get depressed by this political environment.  We're inundated with stories about congressional gridlock and a deeply divided public, all the while the planet overheats, unhinged dictators in  the Middle East run amok, and the economy goes off the rails.  Like many Americans, I've sometimes doubted the functioning of our government.  Take the night the U.S. Supreme Court ended the vote count in Florida during the 2000 presidential election, or that horrifying period after Hurricane Katrina when I could not get anybody at FEMA on the phone to help me locate my missing disabled sister.

But ultimately, I don't have the luxury of tuning out.  Instead, I think of my mother, who taught me to find the good in every person and situation.  She never let us lose hope -- and she always made sure we believed Santa Claus would come, no matter how dirt-poor we were.

She's the reason I've spent my free time this summer looking for nice things to say about Mitt Romney, even though I don't plan to vote for him (for starters, he's an honorable, decent and loving father who obviously cares deeply about this country).  When I feel myself getting steamed up over an issue, it really does help to remember the rich humanity of my so-called opponents -- even one as formidable as former Bush advisor Karl Rove.  Competing against him was blood sport -- and yet he and I have great rapport.  We discovered early on that we share a love of history.  Karl doesn't just know dates and facts; he can tell you what people were eating, drinking and thinking in 1896 -- and he's always sending me books by Joseph Ellis.  He's proof that it's possible to disagree with someone on just about everything but still respect them.

Of course, I don't look for the good in others just on the campaign trail.  I see it in the policeman on the beat who's there when I am walking home late at night, and the air-traffic controllers who make sure the plane lands safely (I don't know who these people are, but I'm always praying for them).  It may not be easy to believe in government, but I can certainly believe in the postal worker who tucks my mail neatly into my box so it won't get wet when I'm traveling.

It's people, not politicians, who make this country what it is.  When I look around me, I can't help having faith.