Random Thoughts from 38,000 feet above Eastern Oregon

“Aquas de Março” may well be my favorite song.  If there is an afterlife, Tom Jobim and Joni Mitchell will hang out, smoking cigarettes and drinking whiskey.

Business class transforms travel from horrifying to tolerable. 

When one’s parents are gravely ill, the question of how to be good to them is the most important thing in the world.  The danger is to know when and how to protect against consuming one’s being.

It’s very nice to have enough underwear so as not to worry about having to do laundry between unplanned trips

Since 2005, my Aunt Monica and my father have died.  Edith Throckmorton died.  Edie Mulholland died.  Bill Martin died.  Edith Stiles died.  There are others, some close, some distant – but they’re related by age.  The “Greatest Generation” is fading quickly.  In a very real sense, my mother’s impending death will close a chapter in our lives.  What chapter opens next will be fascinating.

Having discussed very painful decisions about terminal illnesses and end-of-life issues with my mother over the last 30 years has made the last month much easier.  Executing the decisions is relatively easy.  Catching up with the emotions is quite a different story.  No, in fact I’m not all right.   Thanks for asking.

How did I ever travel without a laptop?  And what will it be like to travel with a tablet as powerful and capable as my laptop?

I miss the smell and touch of Graham and Tick Tock bin Trouble.  I am a pack animal.  Who knew?

On being a good son to a dying mother

My mother is dying.  Not that any of us will live forever, barring the “rapture for nerds.”  My mother is 88, has moderate dementia, and has recently been diagnosed as having a large mass in her chest, most likely cancerous.  I can’t tell you that with 100% confidence, because my mother slapped the radiology technician assisting with her biopsy, thus immediately ending the procedure and delaying a definitive diagnosis of lung cancer. 

But we know enough to know that my mother is dying, and is likely to die sooner, rather than later. 

What I’m struggling with is how to be a good son to my dying mother.  I know how to do many things, with various degrees of comfort and competence.  I can, with fluency and grace, coordinate the IT policy of a major Federal agency.  I do a passable job as partner to the love of my life.  I rock wearing really good suits, and know my way around menus and wine lists like no one’s business.  I’m an OK friend, and a not particularly good godfather (yes, that’s my assessment of what I’ve done for you, Cord). 

The problem is, for me: what can and should I do for Virginia Jean Kuehner Fusick Cory? 

I’ve established her care goals as being “providing comfort and reducing confusion,” know that my mother’s tolerance for discomfort and change is shrinking every day.  I’ve tried to bring the right people together to ensure that she’s doing what she needs to do every day, and that she can’t badger, bully, or plead her way out of doing what she may not want to do. 

So – I’m flying once again to Oregon, trying to get sorted my mother’s collapsing world.  After having a episode with wheezing and shortness of breath which lead to an ER visit and a hospital admission, my mother will move from the apartment in which she has lived independently for the last 10 years to an assisted living room.  I know there will be tears, and complaint, and resistance, but the only way I can ensure that my mother’s days are comfortable and create minimal confusion for her is to provide round the clock supervision for her.  Without that, her chances of having an injurious fall are certain.  Without that, her failure to medicate or refuse medication would lead to more trips to the ER and hospital.  Without that, my guilt is unbearable.

I do know that I can’t do this myself.  This is work that has to be shared with the team – the professionals who understand how to provide care to the elderly, and how to work with the families of the elderly, and with my family and friends, who know how to tell me what I need to do, and when I’m trying to do too much. 

In the end, I want to make sure that I’m able to do for my mother at the end of her life what she and my father did for me at the beginning of my life:  keep me safe, keep me warm, and let me feel loved.  And if I can do that, I will have been a good son to a dying mother.

Random Thoughts from 33,760 feet above Kansas

I will always be grateful for Louis Vega and Kenny Dope’s “The Bomb” and “I Am the Black Gold of the Sun.”

Working 80 hour weeks and giving up one’s life isn’t sustainable or satisfying, no matter how much money you’re making.

Travel planned and executed at the last minute always costs a lot and is rarely satisfying, regardless of the purpose of the travel or the class of the accommodations.

Graham’s right:  “Another Green World” sounds like music for trans-human Morris dancing.

Dithering can make for good blogging, and even better tweeting.

The older I get, the more I miss the comforts of home.

The older I get, the more I need to clean house before I leave for travel.

LCD Soundsystem’s “All I Want” and Brian Eno’s “Over Fire Island/St. Elmo’s Fire” are written from exactly the same place, 30 years apart.

I’ve been flying in airplanes for 46 years.  Familiarity breeds contempt.  First world problems, I know. 

For almost 20 years, I’ve bought a copy of Automobile, the Economist, and Vanity Fair before any flight.  It’s been an almost fetishistic ritual.  I’ve changed it now, and buy Automobile and the Harvard Business Review.  I can’t explain why I’ve changed the ritual.

Watching 15 minutes of “Jersey Shore” on the seatback feed made me feel real shame for humanity and a desire to erase New Jersey from my experience and family history.

Even at 50, I occasionally amuse myself with the thought of having children with Graham (minds out of the gutter, people.)  I know I’m old enough to be a grandfather already.  I don’t think I can pull off a Jack Donaghy, and I’m pretty sure that I’d regularly find myself in a white hot rage dealing with the issues Washington-area parents regularly deal with.

I’m less and less interested in white tablecloth, full service restaurants, and more satisfied by imaginative, well prepared food in modest surroundings.  Portland rocks that trope hard: Kenny and Zuke’s, Bunk Sandwich, Le Pigeon, Beast all come to mind.

My rental car is an SUV.  It was cheaper – by far – than a hybrid.  Don’t hate me.

Whatever happened to MC Solaar?  Ya gotta love Senegalese rappers name-checking Fred Astaire and Reddy Kilowatt, and sampling Public Enemy.

The annual end of the year blog post composed high over North America

Imagine the shock you may encounter that I’ve unexpressed thoughts on the departing and incoming years. 2011 was a great and awful year in many ways. We’re hoping that 2012 will have more great, and less awful. Here’s my list of hopes, fears, joys, and discoveries from 2011 and for 2012 In no particular order:

1. Aging parents create new challenges for which there are no textbooks, no magazine articles, and no roadmaps.

My mother, at 88, is more childlike all the time. The medical term for her cognitive change – loss, really – is “senile dementia,” which is both cruel and accurate. There are many known causes. There is no cure. For now, compassion and routine are enough to allow her to live independently, comfortably, and with a measure of dignity. I’m terrified that progressive cognitive loss will tip the balance and require a change in her living situation. I’m hoping that after a long and eventful life, one night she will breathe her last breathe, and spare me the horror of seeing her infantilized and her the horror of being the child to my adult. Does this sound horrible or insensitive to you? Tough. I’ve had to make a horrifying decision at the end of my father’s life, too: remove him from a respirator and watch him die, or allow him to continue to exist, trapped in a failing body. I chose to watch him die, with comfort and compassion surrounding him. It’s far more humane to understand that the end of life is the end, rather than to beg and plead for a few more hours, days, months or years bound by increasing limits and mounting losses. My mother talks often about being “ready to go.” I understand and support her.

2. When work is the majority of your life, the appeal of home is greater than any amount of luxury.

Both G2 and I have work that we love. (OK, I love my work more than he does). But the sheer volume of work, and the expectations that we have of ourselves (not to mention other have of us) mean the time devoted to work has grown radically, for both us. Add to that a travel schedule that includes two to three weeks a month away from home for Graham, my regular trips to Oregon for elderwrangling, and you can understand how we’ve grown to resent travel. Upgrades? Fur lining on the shackles. Exotic destinations? I’m tired of novelty right now, thanks. While I believe that home is wherever you are with the ones you love, I prefer that the one I love share the same physical space at certain 85 year-old house in Washington, DC.

3. Music which sounds like it is from the past and future at the same time is what I want to listen to right now.

TV on the Radio. Caetano Veloso. LCD Soundsystem. Luisa Maita. Criolo. Joni Mitchell. Deathfix. Brian Eno. Afrika Baambaata. Brad Melhdau. Talking Heads. Joshua Redman. Monk. Bebel Gilberto. Marvin Gaye. J.S. Bach. The Clash. David Darling. Yeah, it’s a pretentious list. Sue me.

4. When the world is running down, get fucking furious and make it better.

I wish I could live this better. Alas, I’m no Caldicott, Gandhi, or Maathai. But for those of us who are privileged, but not obscenely wealthy – let’s say the 90 - 99% -- we need to recognize that while our road to hell is cosseted with good woolens, fine leather, and the best food the Earth has ever produced, we’re burning our planet to the quick along with the 1%. There is no genetic replacement for me – by choice. For the people I love and with whom I’ve a parental relationship, I’m horrified of the world that I’m bequeathing to them. Increasing inequality, increasingly scarce resources, and a climate that is changing in ways even the best modeling can’t predict: that’s not something I’m proud of leaving behind, and I will do more to change it.

5. Making and taking care of things is a great gift, and one that we undervalue.

My parents imbued me with values that encourage do-it-yourself. I’m grateful for those values, and try to live it. Yes, it’s in small ways – we have a garden that we care for ourselves, we clean our house, and we minimize our use of services provided by others when we can (see item 2). But when we do purchase things made by, or use the services of others, we try to make sure that the providers are well and fairly compensated for the work that we engage them to do.

6. Live, love, laugh.

Three simple words to live by. We’ve already resolved to do more of all three in 2012, and hope that all of our friends and family will do the same.

Truth to Power and the Power of the Prophetic Voice

Professor Cornel West, whom I first wrote about here, and whose acquaintance I am proud to acknowledge, is on fire here.  There's not much more to add, other than I hope that Occupation Wall Street will find a way to give voice to what Brother West spoke of in this video.

Faites attention

The United States has a pretty significant history of labor and social unrest as a result of economic inequality and ownership abuse of labor.  Conveniently, it's been expunged from our current education's curriculum. 

The period from 1900 - 1950 saw the development of organized labor and the evolution of its relationship from a threat to ownership into an effective collaboration with ownership and management.  The reason why it was effective is that ownership correctly understood the threat to it that organized labor represented.

People need to pay attention to what's beginning to happen.

The apocalypse of words

From my beloved.  I've added a bit.


We are on the brink of a new age. 
It's all about community. 
Float this. 
Clear that. 
"ASL" is geezer speak. 
Roll your own roll-your-own. 
The words aren't what they were. 
Cry out, blogosphere! 
Splog is an aggregate noun. 
Single. Word. Sentences! 
Always be launching. 
Clustering. 
We're about what Web 2.0 is about. 
An AJAX-driven GUI. 
The new is old. 
This will change everything. 
Hack it. 
MSM just doesn't get it. 
Folksonomy. 
The buzz is loud and clear. 
It's all changing. 
Podcasts. 
You need someone who gets it. 
Social is the new push. 
We shall transcend borders. 
Label what defies categorization.
2.0 is the new New. 
This is newer media. 
Faster. Faster!
On-demand streams. 
News clouds
What's the value proposition?
Hyperspecialization
Chase the short

This sounds like a fuckin' TED or Gartner Symposium keynote presentation.  No wonder I try and avoid them like a plague.

Still here

Why it's May 22nd and we all appear to be here, as fractious and joyful and broken and perfect as before.  I'm willing to bet that's the plan, contrary to recent efforts to make money off of absurd hopes from some kind of spacelift salvation.

Now, back to gardening, elderwrangling, and cat herding and rat whispering.

Lucy v. Charlie Brown

The final budget bill, and the entire manufactured crisis appalls me.  It reminds me of the advertisement for the National Lampoon many years ago: "If you don't buy this magazine, we'll shoot this dog".

 

Every year, the budget gets held hostage by some idiot -- I'm sorry, Representative or Senator -- who believe their re-election hinges on some marginally important issue. 

Many, if not all of the appropriations bills for FY 2011 were written and out of committee almost on time last year, well before the mid-term elections.  The Republicans used delaying to prevent them from being acted on.  They thought they could create outrage by delaying action, which they could used to their electoral advantage, and they did.  Score one for Lucy v. Charlie Brown. 

The Democrats never made the case at the time that they faced Republican obstructionism, or if they did, the message was so muddled as to have no effect.  The Village is complicit, because most of them don't understand the process, and their salaries are paid for by revenues from advertising sold to corporations which benefit from the broken process. 

The opportunity to discuss and debate policies and programs proposed in the President's budget request is intended to be in the Spring, by the committees responsible for governance and oversight of the programs to be funded.  You wanna wack funding for Planned Parenthood?  Great -- propose striking the funding line from the appropriation, and propose rewriting the authorizing legislation for the agency that is responsible for administering the grants to elminate their authority to do it.  Then vote on it.  If you don't win, you try again next year.  It's not sexy, but it's how our government is supposed to work. 

What makes for good goverment and good governance is so radically different than what is useful for electoral success -- particularly after Citizen's United and Gore v. Bush -- that I can't see a way out of the woods.

What Reich says

Busy with work, busy with life, and pretty much disgusted with the world.  What's truly appalling to me is that sound, sane voices like Robert Reich's aren't heard, aren't respected, and aren't heeded. 

That's all for now.