It's about time

It is Shabbat today so I will not talk about work. Time, however, is another matter. Today I think about time, and the age it carries with it in the sacred space of memory.

My friend, so young at 50, a salsa dance, mother of two, had an image last night as she sat in temple about growing old.  As she looked around she saw all the friends who had watched her children go through their rites of passage. She saw the wrinkles gathering around their eyes, the streaks of silver in the hair, the time that she had been away made so visible.

We are getting older and there is no way to stop it, she thought.

We can be numb to what is  happening to us, but then, when we come back, there it is.

The cantor who started out thirteen years ago with such a beautiful voice now has something  more substantial, a life that's colored with  experience

The choir, with years of practice, sings deeper, stronger, soul filled notes.

She had never heard before such richness that only comes with age,  

people who  get better  at what they do- and a community that honors how  good it is to know that in time we  will heal, these hard times will pass, good times will come again, and  stories will sustain us. 

She wondered how it could have been, and yet it was, her fear of growing old that had kept her away almost two years. Not the frightening forces of anti-semitism. Not the business of her life.

But at the very core this secret fear: the ism of age, the most universal. 

I do not want to forget that I know what I know. I am who I am.

She listens to the prayers that  speak of the celebration  of creation, the cycles that return, night and day, season to season, generation to generation.

The polish man, celebrating his 83rd birthday, his wife beside him, still chant them, remembering those who chanted them before.

There is no need to deny her place in time, that for a moment is not going anywhere.

Here we are, all  together, baby boomers, empty nesters, parents, and grandparents, all with our wisdom  collectively grown. All with our memories.

She sits there crying, seeing herself accepting the age that is hers and greater than her.

 

closure

It  happened when he went to get his bike

out of the locker in Union City

where it had been a full two months now

sitting there waiting for the next ride

from the BART to that  business along the SF  Bay

that never happened.

But today was the day he made the trip

taking the bike back

home,  leaving the  door open

behind him

all those green days

behind him

all the days of riding in the morning

through the marshes

watching for the blue herons

all the twilight  drives

with the hum of work

still in his fingers

all the conversations 

deadlines covered 

now really done, 

a commute that's over

and the bike at home

so he could have closure.

Spiraling Downward

Dear President Obama,

I was as shocked as you said you were today when I heard on NPR that the banking executives were using federal bail out money to give themselves bonuses.  Actually, I was more then shocked.  I was enraged.

How am I to make sense of this act as anything but a crime against all the American workers, whose tax money went towards this coup?

I am enraged for all of those who had  real jobs they did every day, making and selling real products, and then lost those jobs because of the economic downturn that was spurred by the insatiable greed and grandiose personalities of those very executives. I am enraged because these people who reward themselves with bonuses when others are saving every penny to stay afloat have no conscience, no sense of right and wrong.  

Perhaps those executives are believing that this is another form of trickle down, that their bonuses will benefit the nannies, housekeepers, personal chefs and all 200,000 domestic workers that the New York Times (12/10/08) reports work in the NY metro area. 

It is true, these domestic workers are impacted by the finanical industry meltdown and its trickle effect of downsizing. The article quotes the Domestic Workers United, a nonprofit advocacy group dscribing these workers who  "unlike other sectors getting hit have not safety net" and calls them "the invisible, untold story of the crisis." 

 But believe me, these bonuses are not a solution for those who labor for the executives and for all the rest of us who have been hard hit by the recession.

 I suggest instead the executives should pay back what they have taken from all of us, and be given real consequences for the failures of their business. Please take swift action and send them off the way those other laborers have been set off, without a safety net (although I am quite certain the safety net that their salaries bought them already  is quite large.)   Teach them by giving them real work to do, in the labor camps of the service sector, caring for children, cooking, cleaning.

Then let it trickle up, some relief for the rest of America. 

I can think of many ways that bonus money could be better spent.

Mindfulness or Madness?

The lesson right now  is about listening,  breathing, sending out love. 

It is the only way to fend off the panic that comes as the world  I  knew  crumbles away, 

as the newspaper reports an even bigger wave of layoffs, that now includes my children's father.

What other  choice do I have:   medication? madness?

It is a lesson from my past. Just like making soup. When I was 18 I   learned how to live simply,  how to meditate.  So how timely,  now this  in-service training at the start of this week on the benefit of using meditation techniques in the classroom.

 It is so simple.  

We listen to the sound of the tibetan bell. 

Not as a religious buddist practice but as a way to become calm.

We breath  because it improves concentration, reduces conflict, makes us more resilient.

And it is free.

Just like all those things that I love most are free:

I am rich  drinking the  intoxicating rain washed  crystal  air 

seeing the winter blood orange sunset streaked with charcoal clouds, 

 smelling the sweetness of the daphne blooming 

serenaded by morning visiting symphonies of song birds

and tasting a raisin.

Be mindful.

And grateful. 

I can worry later about the worst case scenarios.

the global warming catastrophes.

all the what ifs....

for now, I can be in the moment

with what has not changed.

J inspires me by his new routines. Every day he goes into the back studio to spend time meditating. Then he writes in his journal.

And then he goes on with his day.

Learning new skills. Working on new products. Sending out job applications. Composing music. Being in support groups. Going to classes. 

I am mindful how easily relationship are strained in hard economic times.

How quickly conflicts  may rise when resources are limited. 

But for now I see kindness. 

People who have jobs who are  helping those who do not.

My friend who is still making money says she wants to keep spending it. 

That way she feels she is doing something to help the economy grow.

We cannot be afraid to give.

I think about my soup again.

So easy to put out a pot and share it.

Why should  McDonalds be one of the few corporations that is making a profit?

We must remember that there are other ways to heal the world.

statistics and stories

Every day the headlines announce new statistics on job loss. Yesterday January 24, 2009, the SF Chronicle boldly announces that the STATE JOBLESS RATES HITS 9.3%-a 15 YEAR HIGH. There were 78,000 jobs cut in California in the month of December.  My husband says it is fear mongering, a way to sell papers. But he also tells me how he sees more and more people who look just like him, white, middle class middle age men out on the streets in the afternoon.  And I continue to wonder about the stories not being told in these numbers of the 1.7 million Californian's who want a job but cannot find one. Who exactly are these people? 

 Last night at a party I was talking to a friend whose husband is also struggling. Her take was that the hit now is predominantly being taken by men. Perhaps because women were never as highly paid and are working in service sectors of health and education.  Many in the private sectors with the assumption of higher paychecks are more vulnerable. 

Yes, you may be right, I say to my friend,  but I want to know more.  Why aren't they telling us their stories? Are they feeling too proud and too ashamed  to talk ? It's not just about the older less competent brains. We women are loosing some of those cells too. But what about the women, the wives who are carrying now the burdens of  both the emotional and financial support of their home economies? 

 At the same party, last night, a man  tells me he just narrowly missed the last round of layoffs two days before from his job in tech support for a major bank. He's been there 20 years. Just turned 60. Not ready or able to retire yet, although he would have been if it wasn't for the loss of his 401K because he had no other pension plan with this job.

 I want  to start carrying around a small tape recorder. The numbers are making me numb.  I need the  insight,  healing and strength that  comes  through this telling and sharing of stories. So if you are reading this and know someone who has a story to tell please feel free to respond to this post.

stock

In the kitchen

my stock is brewing, 

 the scraps from the kitchen

celery, carrots, parsley, a steaming

 broth of life's

left overs 

makes me know

we will survive

whatever comes:

the idea is to make soup

every week, pulling up the

recipes from long ago: split pea, lentil

black beans, chicken

it all works and leaves us 

with enough 

to share.

poem about the lay off

I am thinking about  your  lay off 

 as a kind of death

because you go through  all the stages:

shock, numbness, bargaining, guilt, anger

vertigo as the ground spins

beneath you and the every day doings

of your life are gone,

 and finally GRIEF

for this loss of livelihood

but when  it happens

without warning

a call in the middle of the afternoon

that ends the world

as you've known it

handing over the badge

no goodbyes allowed

packing up after hours

that is the worst

you just disappear

with the story  never told

of where you went

when you don't show up at the meeting

no one knows why

this kind of death

feels more like a murder

kept  secret

 

happy new world

I am so inspired by this  new world and its new leader.

Watching the Inauguration yesterday on a big screen set up in the auditorium filled with Hispanic and African American middle school students, I wept.  These students are watching the swearing in of a president who looks like them.  It feels like a dream .  After all these years  in inner city schools with so little reflected in the larger world of the value of these lives and  this work,  there is suddenly an enormous shift and a  great big breath of relief we all take together.  YES. We have been blessed to arrive at such  a place in our history.  And yet,  there remains all the  fallout of the old world.  Every day, all around me, there is  anxiety . How long will it take for  J to get a job? Does he have to start all over from the beginning, like a 20 year old, training in one of those new careers that the economic stimulus package will create? It is demoralizing.  And yet even this is an opportunity. For part of me believes we as a nation must do this inward soul searching.  Admit that we have all been addicts and go through our own 12 step program to  deal with this addiction to stuff, to oil, to  the consuming of so much more than we need of everything. WE need to make amends to everyone we hurt in the process. Open those clenched fists  and learn to live  like we did back in the 70's, communally, sharing resources, living on as little as we can, trading the skills that we have. I am inspired  by the kindness and generosity that Obama's world view makes possible.  

thoughts on job loss, ageism and the value of experience

I am creating this blog because we who are over fifty, who have watched our retirement accounts dwindle, and been laid off from jobs where we held senior positions, need a voice more than ever before.

The story of Chesley "Sully" Sulllenberger, age 57, who skillfully guided the US  Airlines plane onto the Hudson River when he couldn't make it to a nearby airport, saving the lives of all 155 people on board, is an inspiration to me, speaking as it does to the benefits of experience.  The world cannot afford to lose people like this in the work place. Not just for the sake of the safe landing of planes, but for the sake of our children's education, our ailing infrastructures, and the productivity of our country.

I  am creating this blog because I believe that as we age we can become the heroes, role models and visionaries that our younger colleagues need.  Even if our short term memories aren't as sharp, we have memories of things that help put into perspective the rasher decisions that might other wise be made in these rapidly changing times.  WE need others to hear the stories of our success. 

I am starting this blog because the "ism" I worry about most now is the insidious "ageism" that goes hand in hand with the downward spiral of our economy. As Baby Boomers gray and become more experienced, and higher paid, they often become the first to be laid off when companies need to make cuts. Ironically, with these lay offs goes not only a drain of brainpower and wisdom  but also a loss of tax revenue and an opportunity for rescuing our economy.

I feel fortunate because I love the work I do, and because I have union protection. I am in my 50's and have worked as a school psychologist for twenty years. I believe that each of these years made me better at what I do, full of knowledge that I was never taught in school, able to handle the myriad of challenges that come my way.  

My husband has not been so lucky as me.  I am writing to share how it feels to watch this real live person I love and one of the most generous and ethical people I know, become part of the statistics on the impact of this deep recession.  While employed my husband helped pay the tuition for his stepdaughters' college education. He paid a lot of  taxes. He gave a portion of his earnings to charity.  Now he is collecting unemployment checks and the state and federal government are not benefiting from his taxes.  Now all his donations to charities have dried up and he is applying for emergency financial aid to help our daughter complete her freshman year at MIT.

My husband is a software engineer. When he chose this profession thirty years ago in its infancy he was assured he would never be without employment. He and his colleagues were also convinced that they would be better off to go it alone , without any union representation. Some in the profession capitalized on the success of their companies and cashing out their stock options made them rich.  But for many like my husband there was no pension plan. They were hired "at will" and could be laid off "at will."  As the economy has gotten worse, as jobs have been shipped over seas, these high tech white collar workers have become increasingly vulnerable.  

Two years ago, when my husband was hired as a senior software engineer at a major consumer electronics company, he had several other job opportunities. But he was assured that this was a company where layoffs were rarely necessary.  But that rarely necessary happened, exactly one week before Thanksgiving, with absolutely no notice. After a brief conversation with his supervisor, notifying him that his position was being eliminated, he had only a few minutes to gather his essential items before turning in his badge and VON token and being ushered out of the building. With no time even for a goodbye, he was instructed to return after hours to pack up the rest of his things. The timing was aimed perfectly to avoid the need for paid vacation time over the upcoming holidays. Now the opportunities for quick recovery look bleak. There has not even been a response the jobs he applies to every day.

We have heard many horror stories about 50 something engineers with PhD's from prestigious universities being laid off, even as newly educated engineers are hired on the spot to fill vacancies in these companies.  Without changes in how things are done we wonder if our daughter, who has plans to work as a chemical engineer in fuel cell research, is wise to pursue a career in private industry in which she is so vulnerable.

I am writing with hopes that my story will inspire others to share their stories.That together we can gain the courage we need to fight the fight, to hang in there for the long run and become part of a collective power that helps make the changes we need for a juster world in which all can be of use and value.

Age Counts!

This blog is created as a way to celebrate and defend the important contributions that people with years of experience make in the world today.