Beyond His Clutter

Oh my goodness I can so identify with the story that I am sharing with you today.

 

It's a story titled, 54 Drawers, and it's about a daughter who thoughtfully and lovingly is going through the drawers and drawers of file cabinets containing huge amounts of paper her recently deceased father stored in the office of his house.

 

In my case it was and still is the papers that my late husband left in his office.  Over the years, I have made a lot of progress and thrown out lots and lots of boxes containing everything from old bills, old checkbooks, handwritten notes, pictures, and receipts to zillions of stories printed from websites along with multiple copies of stories my husband beautifully wrote while working as a prize-winning science and space reporter for The Washington Post.

Thomas O'Toole hard at work at his Washington Post desk

If you have never found yourself in the position of going through a deceased person's belongings please let me tell you that it is not the kind of activity that happens quickly.  No way.  It is dicey territory.  Don't let anyone tell you that it is the same as when you say you are going to clean out your closet, desk or any other room in your house.

 

It takes time, especially if the things belong to someone you cared about.  It is an unpredictable, emotional and even intimate journey, just as Olivia Judson so eloquently writes in her story, 54 Drawers,  recently published in The New York Times.  For those of you readers who have found yourself in the situation of going through someone else's belongings after their death, I hope you agree with me that initially you think you are ready for the task and that it shouldn't be too difficult.

For me, it quickly became evident upon going through the first box that it was going to be harder than I thought.  His things took me back to him and I was back inside my husband's head reading his written thoughts, completed or not, and some pieces of paper were out of the blue surprising, revealing some things about himself that we had not ever discussed.  He may have even forgotten that he wrote these thoughts.  I'm not implying that I uncovered any deep dark secrets but just that I came upon things that he wrote in the emotion of a moment and may have wanted to keep private.

Throwing away some of some husband's stuff felt like I was disrespecting him even when it was just an outdated piece of paper or a report that was not of any importance.  I knew that I wasn't doing anything of the sort but it certainly felt that way.  Then there were other times when going through his stuff felt like a game.  I would read whatever it was I had found and stare at it for awhile wondering why he had kept it in the first place.

" Is there something of importance here that I'm missing?" I would ask myself.

And then I realized that the answer to that question was yes.  I was missing him.

Please read Olivia Judson's story, 54 Drawers, by clicking on the link below: 

http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2014/02/18/54-drawers/

When In Doubt

If you have ever have doubts about talking to someone you hardly know about a recent loss in their life, please think twice about ignoring the subject.

 

You may think you are doing the person a favor by not mentioning their loss or the name of the loved one that died, but it doesn't really work that way.

 

Acknowledging is important and helpful to you, and more importantly, to the person experiencing the loss.  It's extending sympathy or compassion and even though it may be hard to do, it's something that needs to be done.  So take a deep breath, remind yourself that you an adult and proceed.  Think about the person who is suffering rather than your discomfort.  If the death has happened to someone you know well, perhaps you can give them a hug, say you are sorry that they are going through a painful time and listen to what they want to say.

 

If the loss has happened to a work colleague that can be tricky.  But it is still just as important to acknowledge what has happened to this person.  If you can't seem to find the right words to say, then you can always give them a card with a short note.

 

To understand the bereaved person's point of view, here is a short letter that someone who did not want to be named wrote to The Washington Post's advice columnist Carolyn Hax:

 

"When I returned to work after my dad's funeral, everybody avoided me like crazy.  I guess they thought I would burst into tears if they even said hello.  Who knows, maybe I would have.  I felt so sad, so alone and isolated.  His obituary had been e-mailed to everyone , so all details were known.

 

After lunch on my first day back, I slipped off to an empty conference room to collect my thoughts, and a man I only know marginally saw me go in.  He came to me and started this conversation: 'I was so sorry to hear about your dad.  I didn't know he was a music teacher!  Tell me about him!' I was so happy to have someone to talk to about him.  We talked for about 20 minutes about my dad.  Yes, I cried a little.  But at that moment, that was what I needed so much.

 

After a funeral, everyone goes back to their lives, what they were doing before -- and the family who has lost their loved one is completely lost and directionless.  This man, who hardly knew me, reached out for just a moment and cared.   I still run in to him periodically at work and can't tell you how much his gesture, at that moment on that day, helped me to cope."

Psychologists often cite isolation as one of the main dangers while grieving.  Reaching out can make a difference.

 

Developing A Grief Pill

The pharmaceutical industry is researching the development an anti-depressant pill for people who are grieving.

Hmmmmm....

My gut feeling when I first read this story about the availability of a so-called grief pill in The Washington Post was that it seemed rather predatory of the pharmaceutical industry to be focusing its scientific expertise and vast financial resources on people when they are at the most vulnerable and sometimes lowest points in their lives.

I vividly remember the competing emotions I felt after my husband died.  Raw pain and numbness.  Exhaustion and adrenaline.  On top of all that, I was taking care of my young son, working a full-time job and all I wanted was someone to tell me was how long all of this was going to last. Unfortunately, no one could tell me  the length of time it would take for me to process my grief.  I now understand that figuring out how to live without a loved one is really and truly different for each person.

 

Yup, I enthusiastically support the marketplace being open to offering the largest array of medical options possible, including pills,  to alleviate the physical and mental pain of whatever disease or condition people are experiencing.

 

However, on the other hand, it is as though the pharmaceutical industry is saying that something is definitely wrong with you when you are grieving; that grief is similar to having high levels of cholesterol; that grief is a condition or a disease that needs to be treated with chemicals when that is usually not be the case at all.

 

Grief is a normal and natural reaction to the loss of someone you loved and cared about and unfortunately, it's extremely painful.  Pills are not the first solution that comes to mind because whenever you read or talk to a doctor about how bad you feel when you are grieving, they usually advise you to be very careful where drugs and alcohol are concerned because either substance by themselves or taken together can easily become part of an unhealthy coping system. 

When you take all of those factors into consideration, I have to conclude that the government's approval of industry efforts to research, manufacture and distribute such a grief pill is a difficult call. 

I did not take any pills while grieving for my husband but I honestly can say that I did think about how it would have been fantastic to be able to take a pill that would block all of the pain I was constantly feeling.  My desire was very strong to make the pain stop.  And the idea that there might be a pill that would take the edge off of my pain would have made life a helluv a lot easier to live.

But I also know that at that point in my life I could very easily have become dependent on any pill that would have made me feel so good.  Somewhere inside me I knew that the last thing that I needed was to be doped up when I had so much responsibility.  I never went to my doctor and asked for a pain or anxiety prescription because I knew that eventually I was going to have to feel the raw sadness of my loss and find a way to get on the other side of it.

There are cases when people do need medical help with their grieving process and I know that this needs to be taken into consideration but I think medicine already exists to take care of it.

 

How do you feel about this issue?

 

Make up your own mind by reading this link to The Washington Post story:

 

http://www.washingtonpost.com/business/economy/antidepressants-to-treat-grief-psychiatry-panelists-with-ties-to-drug-industry-say-yes/2012/12/26/ca09cde6-3d60-11e2-ae43-cf491b837f7b_story_3.html

10 Years

Dearest Tommy:

How can it be 10 years?  I miss you!!

                            xoxo

Changes At Arlington Cemetery

A cemetery is an intimate place.

For me, it is a place where I let down my guard and become vulnerable to my feelings.  Sometimes I raise my arms to the sky as if saying that I am ready to let it all wash over me but other times I sit silently and close my eyes and try to center my thoughts.

 

In the summertime when I visit my husband's grave, I sometimes love to lay in the grass that covers where he is buried.  As I lay on my back looking up at the sky, I love to let my hands run through the blades of grass and feel the warmth of the sun envelope me knowing that some part of him is underneath me.

I don't do this every time I go there but when I do I find it to be comforting.

Isn't that the whole point of going to a cemetery?  To find comfort, to try and put yourself back together, to heal and to also find some measure of peace?

I talk to my husband while I am visiting there and I also leave things near his marker that I know he liked, such as cookies and shells from the beach.  It's my way of  telling him that I am thinking of him and I'm still caring about him.  It's an emotional connection that gives me strength.

I was reminded of the healing role of my many cemetery visits while reading a touching Washington Post story yesterday about Section 60 in the Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia.  The story reported that the small treasures and personal mementos people have routinely left at their loved ones graves for months is now being collected by the cemetery's workers and taken away.

Arlington National Cemetery
www.arlingtoncemetery.mil

Section 60 hold special significance because that is where more than 800 recently deceased Iraq and Afghanistan war dead are buried and the pain of each relative's grief is still new and raw.  Arlington National Cemetery is one of the nation's oldest cemeteries and within its 624 acres lies more than 14,000 veterans, including some who fought in the Civil War.

For many, many months, loved ones personalized the stark gravestones of their spouses, children and friends with pictures, balloons, dog tags, handmade trinkets, holiday decorations and love letters as they try to find some kind of answer to the searing heartbreak they feel about their special person's death.

 

But the cemetery has changed its mind and is now collecting anything left at the gravesites.  Arlington cemetery's executive director plans to meet with the families of the deceased this Sunday to discuss the new policy of cleaning up section 60. 

It seems that from the Army's point of view, the cemetery needs to stay clean and look just like every other part of Arlington Cemetery but for the families, the disarray of the personal belongings left at the gravesites reinforced their love, their unwavering bond with their loved one and reflected their shattered dreams.

This link will take you to The Washington Post story, headline, "Another Death, Another Loss":

http://www.washingtonpost.com/national/cleanup-in-arlington-national-cemeterys-section-60-upsets-families-of-war-dead/2013/10/01/ec5de34e-2ac4-11e3-97a3-ff2758228523_story.html?tid=auto_complete

The Uncertain Path of Newtown's Mourning Parents

It is rare for a national newspaper to begin a story on its Sunday front page that then continues to run for five pages of copy and pictures inside the paper and is dedicated to the subject of grief.

 

But that is just what The Washington Post did yesterday and Eli Saslow, who wrote and reported the devastating story, and Linda Davidson, who photographed the compelling pictures for the story, deserve a standing ovation for bringing much needed attention to what life is now like for the Barden family of Newtown, Connecticut, a family in the throes of raw, searingly painful grief as they try to figure out what to do next since 7-year-old Daniel Barden, the youngest in the Barden family, was shot and killed at his school.

 

Seven Year Old Daniel Barden

Mark and Jackie Barden's 7-year-old son, Daniel, attended Sandy Hook School Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut.  On December 14, 2012, Adam Lanza, 20, fatally shot 20 children, including Daniel Barden, and 6 adults in a mass murder at Sandy Hook Elementary.

 

Yesterday morning when I went out to the front yard to pick up The Washington Post, I pulled the paper out of it's plastic sleeve and flipped it over to see what was happening on the paper's front page.  I immediately saw the story's headline, "Into The Lonely Quiet," and started reading it as I went up the steps and back into the house.  I was riveted.  I continued to read the story about the Barden family as I found a chair and didn't stop reading it until I reached the last word at the end of the story that is so sad on so many levels.

 

Please read this insightful story about the Barden family.  My prayers are with them as they try to navigate the tragic loss of their young son, Daniel, pictured above.

Here is the link to The Washington Post story:

 

http://www.washingtonpost.com/national/after-newtown-shooting-mourning-parents-enter-into-the-lonely-quiet/2013/06/08/0235a882-cd32-11e2-9f1a-1a7cdee20287_story.html

 

That's What Friends Are For

This is a beautiful and moving story about a husband and wife and their love and respect for one another.

 

Sadly, the time recently arrived for one of them to say good-bye to the other.

 

In the following column by The Washington Post's Courtland Milloy, he writes of the spirit of the union between Washington Post reporter Lynne Duke and Washington Post editor Phillip Dixon in the essential phrase "sometimes yin and yang, sometimes nitro and glycerin."

 

Milloy is an awesome friend, doing what friends do best, offering emotional support and condolences to Phillip Dixon, and at the same time establishing that important and necessary connection to his deceased friend Lynne Duke, making sure that others know what a special person and reporter she was while she worked at The Washington Post.

Friends want to take care of you and provide comfort when they see you in pain and we should let them.  Sometimes they don't even need to say a word.  When I was with my friends, they let me cry, they listened to me talk about how unreal it felt and sometimes they gently held my hand.  That meant the world to me and I still remember those gestures of friendship after my husband died.

My thoughts and prayers are with you Phillip.

Photo Courtesy of Rodney Brooks
Former Washington Post journalists Lynne Duke and Phillip Dixon
 enjoy a Valentine’s Day party

After death of a fearless Post reporter,
her husband reaches out

By Courtland Milloy, Published: April 23

When Phillip Dixon called to say that his wife, Lynne Duke, had died after a long bout with cancer, I did what friends do and put myself at his disposal.

 

“What you can do,” he said, “is look me in the eye and tell me that we’ll get through this, that everything is going to be okay.”

 

A simple request. But en route to his home in Silver Spring, it occurred to me that saying those words was not the same as believing them. I’ve heard people tell mourners things such as “Life goes on” and “This too shall pass.” But I couldn’t imagine such cliches actually bringing comfort to a grieving soul. And Phil would certainly know if I were just mouthing the words.

 

He and Lynne had both worked at The Washington Post. He was a gifted editor, able to intuit what writers were trying to say and help them say it better. She had been one of the newspaper’s most graceful and evocative writers. In 1995, at age 38, she became the Johannesburg bureau chief — the newspaper’s first African American female foreign correspondent.

 

They married in 1999, soon after her return.

 

Lynne died at their home Friday. She was 56. The professionals at Montgomery Hospice had helped Phil care for her until the end. He was grateful for their service and greeted me at the door with a hug. Men, especially hard-boiled 61-year-old former editors like him, don’t usually reach out so unabashedly for emotional support. In fact, we guys are often reluctant to show any kind of feelings that might make us look weak or needy.

 

Caring for Lynne during her struggle with lung cancer, however, had helped Phil see that such feelings do not make us look weak, just human. In reaching out, he was teaching me a thing or two.

“Lynne used to tell me that I wasn’t ‘present’ when we talked,” he recalled. “I’d say: ‘What do you mean? I’m right here.’ Now I know what she meant: being totally immersed in our conversations, intellectually and emotionally, in the moment, in the here and now.”

 

Ouch, I was guilty, too. Being present meant listening, not just hearing. If you told me about a problem, I’d feel compelled to give you the answer — sometimes interrupting in mid-sentence, never listening long enough to know that you just wanted to talk it out, not be told what to do.

“I wish I’d gotten it sooner,” Phil said.

 

Don’t we all? But at least he got it. Some of us never do.

 

If anybody knew how to make her point, it was Lynne. Diminutive, 5 feet tall, she was known as the “Duke of Africa,” as fearless a foreign correspondent as there was. She’d covered much of the continent south of the equator — evading extraordinary dangers while chronicling the tragic reigns of Mobutu Sese Seko and Laurent Kabila in Zaire (now Congo), covering the triumphant return of Nelson Mandela from prison in 1990, and then returning as bureau chief to report on then-President Mandela’s effort to rebuild a post-apartheid South Africa.

 

“I am neither an Afro-pessimist nor an Afro-optimist,” she wrote in her 2003 memoir, “Mandela, Mobutu, and Me: A Newswoman’s African Journey.” Rather, she was an “Afro-realist” with “affectionate concern for and loyalty to the African struggle . . . guided by legions of African people whose lives are built on extraordinary fortitude, unwavering hope and profound humanity despite immense odds.”

 

Most American newspapers no longer cover Africa — or any other place in the world, for that matter — with such passion, let alone send African American women to do it.

 

Lynne and Phil made a perfect match — a writer and an editor who met in the newsroom, went on to live under the same roof. Sometimes yin and yang, sometimes nitro and glycerin. Often laughing, sometimes arguing, always loving and fun to be around.

 

“I prayed that she would go peacefully and painlessly,” Phil told me. “This morning, I got on my knees and thanked God for answering my prayers.” He looked remarkably content, not distraught as I had expected, but like a man who knew that there was more to this world than meets the eye, that he’d felt the presence of a loving spirit when he needed it most.

 

“Everything is going to be okay,” I told him, convinced.

 

“I know,” Phil replied, smiling assuredly. Then it dawned on me: He’d known all along. Just wanted a worried friend to know it, too.

To read previous columns, go to washingtonpost.com/milloy.

© The Washington Post Company

Nutritionally Yours

The loss of a loved one can literally take your appetite away.

 

You find that you can barely get out of bed and food is not appealing at all.  You feel as though you are walking through cotton candy.  All of your senses seem dulled and off.

Sadly, these symptoms are considered to be pretty normal for a person grieving.

 

I remember at the reception after my husband's funeral I really didn't want anything to eat.  I had a yogurt before going to the church for the funeral mass but that was about all I could handle.  People kept giving me plates of food and I held the plates while talking to people but then I would put it down somewhere hoping no one would give it back to me.  Later on, even though I wasn't hungry, I did force myself to eat part of a turkey sandwich because everyone seemed so worried that I didn't want anything.

 

I soon realized that I needed to eat smarter and take care of myself.  I was responsible for raising my son and I needed to be strong for him.  My thirteen-year-old son had just lost his father and if he saw that his mother didn't care what happened to her, then God knows what would happen.  I needed to show him that part of grieving was remembering to eat healthy.  If I fell apart and I ate junk or skipped meals, then I knew he would feel the same way about his life and I couldn't have that happen.  I might not have cared about myself at that point, but I did love and care about him. 

 

I started being aware of what I was cooking and especially made sure that we always ate a good breakfast, not the breakfast we felt like eating: doughnuts, pancakes, coffee cake and sometimes even pizza.  Never had pizza for breakfast?  You should try it!  Totally delish!

People don't tell you this but grieving is hard work.  It's exhausting being under so much stress every day.  If you don't feel like eating, then you have to remind yourself to at least eat to give your body strength.  Or think of it this way:  there is so much going on that is out of your control at least you can make your own choices with regard to what you eat.

Going to the grocery store after someone you love dies can be dicey.  Aisle after aisle, you can be reminded of all the different foods your loved one ate and how you probably won't be buying those items anymore.  For me it was Ovaltine.  But there's also another way of looking at a trip to the grocery store.  I have heard a few people remark that food shopping can gradually become a kind of adventure because they can start to buy food that they always really liked but their spouse or partner couldn't stand.

Either way, you are trying to stretch a dollar and you deserve to be healthy.  Below is the link to timely story published in The Washington Post on Wednesday, Feb 27 discussing food shopping in the grocery store, saving money and learning to make those 'aha' wellness decisions:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/food/shopping-for-healthful-food-on-a-limited-budget/2013/02/25/ebe6a91e-7b88-11e2-a044-676856536b40_story.html

Do Not Look Away

 

 

Courtesy of CNN.com

  

Holding a hand.  Giving a hug.  Opening your heart.

 

We must not be afraid to offer comfort and empathy.

 

I know it's hard to step outself of yourself and reach out to others in pain. To empathize requires introspection which is not a very popular exercise these days.  Introspection requires you to stop thinking about yourself and imagine what another person is feeling in a situation you would not want to happen to you or anyone else.

 

I know it is only a few days until Christmas, a time when Christians traditionally celebrate the birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ, and people would prefer to surround themselves in the comfort of a commercial Christmas, a Christmas of unending presents and idyllic settings full of twinkling lights, freshly baked cookies and smiles and holiday joy.

 

But there is also another Christmas, equally as powerful: a Christmas belonging to those newly bereaved, a Christmas belonging to those whose child has died. 

Please pause this Christmas and think of these people who are desperate in their sorrow.  No matter what the reason, a shooting, a disease, an accident or a medical condition, these parents should not be ignored because they may make us feel uncomfortable.

 

To truly be filled with the spirit of Christmas, we must give of ourselves.  Though it truly is every parent's nightmare, please do not look away from those who are grieving the loss of a child.  Besides the deep pain they are experiencing, there is also an outrage that they are feeling; an outrage that they will never know what the child might have become.

 

They need our help.  They need to know they are not alone.

 

Please read the following Washington Post story written by a mother who writes of her raw feelings following the death of her child.  May it inspire all of us to be courageous in the face of grief:

 

Courtesy of CBS News

 

The death of a child: A parent’s worst nightmare

By Ann Hood, Published: The Washington Post, December 21

Ann Hood is a novelist and short-story writer living in Providence, R.I.

We are stunned. We are outraged. As a nation, we are questioning laws on gun control, questioning how such a thing can happen. These are all appropriate responses to the tragedy in Newtown, Conn.

 

But there is a repercussion to all this that will continue long after laws are changed and life, unbelievably, gets back to normal: the grief of the parents of the 20 children killed. How many times have I heard that this is a parent’s worst nightmare? As someone who has lived the nightmare of losing a child, I know that the enormous hole left behind remains forever.

My daughter, Grace, was not killed by a gun. She died suddenly at age 5 from a virulent form of strep. As I stood stunned in a church at her memorial, one of the hardest things I heard someone say was, “I’m going to go home and hug my child a little tighter.” Well, good for you, I thought. I’m going to go home and scream.

What can be said in light of such grief? What can you do? The problem is that no one can give the parents what they want most: their child. Long after the memorials fade and the casseroles stop coming, that child is still dead, and those parents are still grieving.

I offer here what I have learned about grief in the 10 years since my Gracie died:

I learned that platitudes don’t work. Time doesn’t heal. She is not in a better place. God does give us more than we can bear sometimes. I have learned that there is more power in a good strong hug than in a thousand meaningful words. I have learned that even in the face of loss, clothes still get dirty and bills still need to get paid. Friends who laundered our socks and answered our e-mails, who mowed our lawn and put gas in our cars, helped us — a lot. The friend who came one afternoon and went through Grace’s backpack, carefully storing her kindergarten workbook and papers, hanging her art on the refrigerator and her raincoat on its hook in the mudroom, had more courage than the ones who told me to call anytime.

Some friends sat with me day after day, week after week and, yes, month after month, and let me talk while they listened. I told the story of Grace’s last day over and over, as if by telling it I could make sense of what had happened to her, to us. But there is no sense to be made of such tragedy, and when I realized that, they let me wail and bang my fists and curse.

As time passes, people return to their ordinary lives, while grieving parents no longer have ordinary lives. They are redefining themselves, and they are at a loss at how to move forward. There is a woman who still sends me a card on Grace’s birthday and every Mother’s Day, who sent cards weekly for more than a year, a lifeline to a grieving mother. The people who even now, a decade later, still say Grace’s name, still comment on her quirky style and artistic talents and love of the Beatles, continue to help me through my days, simply by remembering her.

How easy it is to look away from grief, as if it might be contagious, or too frightening to face. But the Newtown parents have a difficult, lifelong journey through grief ahead of them. Somehow, the seasons will change, the anniversaries will stack up one after the other. They will, unbelievably, smile again. They will make dinner and change jobs and buy clothes and celebrate and travel. They will go on. But there will always, always, be this grief, softened and dulled but present every minute of every day.

Do not forget that. Look them in the eye. Take them in your arms, and do not let them go.

A Young Boy's Healing Message

Johnny Karlinchak and his neighbor, Elissa Myers
Photo by Bill O'Leary/The Washington Post

When I want to help myself, I do something for someone else.  So does Johnny Karlinchak.

When I'm busy and totally involved in helping someone else, I forget about what is happenng to me. I feel as though I am building good karma for myself and that I am part of something bigger.  Granted, when you are in the throes of grieving, this might not be one of the first thoughts that enters your head, but in trying to feel better about your life, being selfless brings you positive energy and can give you structure and direction at a time when you feel very confused and lost.

Research from Mental Health America indicates that those who consistently help other people experience less depression, greater calm, fewer pains and better health.  They may even live longer.  Helping others has actually been shown to reduce stress.

And that means that eight-year-old Johnny Karlinchak is one mellow dude.

The Washington Post reported yesterday that when the recent summer storms hit the metropolitan Washington, DC area, many were left without power or worse.  The worse in Johnny's neighborhood was that a tree fell on the house of his neighbor and good friend, Elissa Myers.

Johnny never thought twice about what needed to be done for Mrs. Myers and he jumped into action to help her as best he could.  Please read this link to the touching Washington Post story:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/local/crime/after-storm-springfield-8-year-old-aims-to-help-four-years-after-his-own-loss/2012/07/14/gJQAJTJukW_story.html

Nora Ephron

Nora Ephron
By Michel Arnaud/Corbis

As the very sad news broke that Nora Ephron had died at the age of 71 from acute myeloid leukemia, it was immediately apparent from reading people's tweets and posted comments that Ephron's death was a tragic surprise and no one wanted to accept the dismal fact that we would no longer be able to look forward to the creation of another amazing, magical piece of work from her.

As Vanity Fair writer David Kamp declared, "...New York without Nora Ephron is just plain wrong."

Her writing was sophisticated yet straightforward and she had a way of cutting through the big boy media noise to insightfully address politics, food, parenting, aging, male/female relationships and the American way of life in general.  She had a zest for life and she never stopped discovering and exploring, talking and collaborating, going for the next project.

I first discovered the multi-talented Nora Ephron back in the '70's when I read her books, "Crazy Salad" and "Scribble Scribble: Notes on the Media."  I immediately loved her smart and funny point of view and I continued to follow her career whether she was writing more books, magazine columns, screenplays or directing movies.

It's hard to pick a favorite of her many movies: Heartburn, Sleepless in Seattle, When Harry Met Sally, You've Got Mail, Silkwood, Julie and Julia but I think I have to go with Heartburn.

Ephron cleverly wrote Heartburn as thinly veiled fiction, telling the tale of her failed marriage to Washington Post reporter Carl Bernstein.  It is a truthful look at falling in love, vulnerability, and resilience.  Bernstein, of the famed Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein Washington Post team which uncovered the Watergate scandal, had an affair with Margaret Jay, the British Ambassador's wife, while he was married to Ephron and she was pregnant with their second child.

Rumors had been floating around Washington, DC about the state of their marriage and people couldn't wait to read Heartburn, which was later made into a movie starring Meryl Streep and Jack Nicholson and was filmed in Washington, DC.

Her friends have written about her generosity and happiness and I think that definitely came through in a lot of her work.  She was the kind of woman you wanted to have as a best friend because you got the sense that you could call her and she would immediately understand what you were talking about and then the two of you would talk about it for hours.

Thank you Nora for being your amazing self!! I think this New York Times piece (including pictures) by Alessandra Stanley captures Nora Ephron best:

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/06/28/fashion/nora-ephrons-hollywood-ending.html?_r=1&hp

DC's Bucket List

Katherine Frey/The Washington Post

Washington, DC is my home and I love it, but it is not a particularly creative city.  The nation's capital has many beautiful monuments and museums but as a city it doesn't go out of it's way to nurture artistic talent even though people who live here and visit here crave public art.

Instead, government is the business of this city and one would sometimes think that the only people who work here are faceless bureaucrats, politicians, and lobbyists who blab on television and telephones or stare at computers screens all day with nothing else on their minds except power, money, and votes.  But underneath all of that rhetoric, beats the heart of a real live community of people who fall in love, develop friendships, raise families, and have dreams, goals and aspirations that they want to realize sometime during their lives.

Proof that people will respond if something different is offered to them came yesterday on the front page of the Washington Post.  In a wonderful story written by Maura Judkis, the private wishes of the citizens of Washington, DC became public art.  A blank billboard-sized chalkboard hanging in front of a construction site near Logan Circle was the starting point.  Only three simple words are displayed at the top: "Before I die..."

Almost immediately people starting picking up the colored pieces of chalk left in a basket and started writing and revealing what is important to them.  Some of the comments included: "Say thank-you everyday." "Inspire people" and "Make people feel loved."  Artist Candy Chang, a 2011 TED fellow, conceived of the idea and first brought it to New Orleans.  Just as it did for the people of New Orleans, the chalk board gave people a reason to stop and think about what they want to do for themselves, their families and their neighborhoods.

Here's the link to the Washington Post story so you can check it for yourself:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/style/in-dc-private-bucket-list-dreams-become-public-art/2012/05/09/gIQAJW2IEU_story.html

Music Heals Soldier's Souls

Music is a powerful medium that touches the human soul.

This link will take you to a compelling story featured in today's Washington Post.  I'm sharing the link because the story shines a light on the healing effects of music for veterans trying to overcome their traumatic memories of war.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/style/military-veterans-seek-support-and-release-through-music-at-lifequest-arts-camp/2012/01/23/gIQAeRcMQQ_story.html

Families & Holidays

This story was published in The Washington Post this week and is soooo timely:


Michael Hershon/For The Washington Post



Holiday advice for families

By Janice D’Arcy/The Washington Post

Published: December 7, 2011

Celebrating the holidays with children can be magical, sometimes. Other times, it can be a season of migraine-inducing family problems. We asked a few experts to sort out some of the most vexing, such as navigating expectations, handling family drama, teaching children gratitude and figuring out how to explain Santa. Here’s hoping this advice gets you more joy and less jaw-clenching during the next few weeks.

How many gifts is too many?

Meredith Gelman, a Fairfax-based clinical social worker who works with parents and families, said when parents have different ideas about gift-giving, the approach should be broken into three phases: creating a recipient list and budget, discussing each other’s expectations and reasons for giving, and negotiating.

“Identify ways that you and your partner might combine each other’s gift ideas: Can you still buy at the toy store while also purchasing toys and clothing for a local needy family?” she said. She suggested involving children in the conversation, too, so they begin to understand the underlying reasons for giving gifts.

Be sensitive about Santa.

If your family has children of mixed ages, keep the Santa Claus myth alive for the youngest, said Meghan Leahy, a D.C.-based parent coach. “You take the 4-year-old to pictures [with Santa], you write the list with her, you listen for the hoofs. As the parent, you use your imagination.

“As much as a preteen would maybe love to get negative attention [for spoiling it], you simply hug him and say, ‘I believe in everything good about the holidays, and Santa is part of that in our house. Especially for your little sister,’ ” Leahy said.

For families who celebrate Christmas without Santa, Leahy warned against asking a preschooler to keep the secret that there really isn’t a Santa. “It is a truism for all kids that if you look them in the eye and say, “Please, please don’t tell the kids in pre-K that there is no Santa,” that child will march right into school with an important announcement: “There is no Santa!”

Instead, she said, “concentrate on what you do believe in as a family and say things like: ‘Some families believe in Santa, some don’t. We really believe in giving back in this house. Can you help me make a list of people we can help this holiday?’ You will notice that there was no refutation in that sentence. You simply want to highlight what the family values are.”

Christmas and Hanukkah: A peaceful coexistence

Hanukkah (starting sundown Dec. 20) and Christmas overlap this year. That makes it a good time to focus on the similarities between the two celebrations, said Jennifer Kogan, a D.C. clinical social worker.

“Parents can talk with their kids about common religious principles or themes. For example, both Christmas and Hanukkah tell the story of a miracle,” she said.

In terms of deciding which traditions to continue, she said it can be helpful for each parent to think about what they loved most about their childhood celebrations. “Is it the different kinds of cookies your mom baked in advance of Christmas? Playing the dreidel game? The scent of a Christmas tree? Latkes frying on the stove? Reading stories or singing songs with family?” The answers can provide a template for the idea of interfaith celebration for your family.

Keep family drama at bay with planning, flexibility.

Parents have to understand the traditions of extended family while protecting the needs of their own children, said Stacy Notaras Murphy, a D.C. psychotherapist and advice columnist. Talk about logistics “as early as possible,” she said, “and with as many of the key players as you can, starting with your partner or spouse.”

“Spend some time thinking about your own expectations of what, if anything, needs to change now that you are bringing small kids into the holiday scenario. . . . Don’t abdicate the decision-making to your mother-in-law. The result might be a meal schedule that simply does not work for your child,” she said.

At the same time, make an effort to be flexible on less important issues. “Kids learn how to negotiate the world based on the behavior modeled by their parents,” Murphy said. “If the holidays mean arguments, conflict with in-laws or passive-aggression for the adults, guess what kids end up believing about holidays?”

When sharing custody, stick to a schedule.

Child custody negotiations can be smoother when former spouses consider the holidays from the child’s point of view, said James J. Gross, an author and divorce lawyer in Chevy Chase. “Think about how you would feel if you sat down to Christmas dinner with one family, then had to be whisked away for Christmas dinner with another family,” he said.

Gross offered two possible schedules. In the first, parents alternate each year, from 6 p.m. on the last day of the school year until 4 p.m. on Christmas Day and from 4 p.m. on Christmas Day until 6 p.m. on Jan. 1. In the second option, one parent has the children for Christmas and Thanksgiving, and the other parent has the children for all other holidays and school vacations.

“Children also frequently feel like the separation of their parents is their fault,” Gross said. “It is important during the holidays to take time to talk to them about their feelings and reassure them.”

The key to well-mannered kids: Practice, practice.

Sara Hacala, author of the recently published “Saving Civility: 52 Ways to Tame Rude, Crude and Attitude for a Polite Planet” (Skylight Paths), pointed out what a parent may not want to hear: “Your children’s manners are more likely to shine during the holidays if they have been incorporated as part of their daily rituals, not as a last-minute attempt on a car ride on the way to an event.”

Still, Hacala said, if the kids haven’t been training for months, you can try a few last-minute strategies. “If your dining style at home is informal, but you’re concerned about a party where more formal behavior and attire is expected, have a practice dinner at home beforehand.”

Talk to children about what they can expect and what will be expected of them, whether it’s sitting quietly through a long meal or helping to serve and clean up or avoiding a food fight. She suggests role-playing at home, too, to practice introductions with eye contact and simple, polite conversation.

Get kids to say thanks and really mean it.

If Thanksgiving didn’t teach your children about gratitude, you have more opportunities this month. “During gift-giving occasions, it is important to talk about this with your kids at home before a gift is received and opened, particularly if the giver is present,” said Hacala.

“Teach your child to say, ‘Thank you, Aunt Susan’ with a sincere and appreciative tone of voice, even if he wished that Elmo were in the gift box rather than a sweater. With older kids and teens, remind them that facial expressions often speak louder than words. Regardless of age, teach your child to hand-write thank-you notes to show appreciation and gratitude; it is an admirable life-long habit.”

Hacala said children may be more likely to put pen to paper if parents explain the meaning of saying “thanks.” “It should be taught to kids that gratitude expresses appreciation for and acknowledgment of other people in our lives, which is why saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ are so important, whether a person has opened a door for you or given you a gift. Doing so shows someone that you are not taking his or her gift, gesture or presence for granted.”

D’Arcy is The Washington Post’s On Parenting blogger. Read her posts at washingtonpost.com/onparenting and follow @onparenting on Twitter.