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Thank you, Ohio

By
Amy Outlaw
on November 7, 2008 11:28 AM | | Comments (0)
Forty eight years ago, when I was 8 years old, my family moved from suburban Philadelphia to small town Ohio. I was the new kid in the third grade class taught by Miss Forney at Barnesville Elementary School.  I had not had particularly good experiences in first and second grade and the class with Miss Foreny was no exception. My family were (and are) Democrats and it was an election year. Barnesville and the surrounds were Republican, but it would not have occurred to me to care about it much.  It seemed that my acceptance into the the social life of the third grade was dependent on who I was "voting" for. I, of course, was unabashed about saying Kennedy, since that was who my parents were for.

The kids version of campaigning in Miss Forney's third grade went something like this: 
The class ring leaders, whose names have long ago faded from my memory, confronted me with the ominous threat that if Kennedy was elected, soldiers would march down the streets of Barnesville and take over the town (an 8 years old's version of martial law). When that had no effect on changing  my mind, there was the more blatant, we won't play with you unless you say you are for Nixon. I was distressed by this threat and felt betrayed by my one friend, whose parents were best friends with mine and a large part of the reason we moved there, who capitulated.  She and her family had been living there for a year before we came and it makes me wonder, now, what that year had been like for her.

My recollection is that I never did say I was for Nixon, the kids got bored with the whole thing after a while, and when the election happened, it passed over as if nothing had actually occurred.  Truth be told, it really had very little impact on their lives or mine.  I didn't even think to comment on that no soldiers ever showed up. After the fact, perhaps years later, I learned a few things about that election. My own grandmother had refused to vote for Kennedy because he was Catholic.  Nixon was a Quaker, like my family- only from a branch so far removed from our beliefs and practices as to be unrecognizable. It was an extremely close race. And last, but not least, President Kennedy became a much loved and respected leader even by many of those that voted against him.

Some have tried to draw parallels between that election and this one.  But what strikes me this morning is the role people from the great state of Ohio have played in this historic election. It has been well documented that many Ohio voters who felt uneasy with Barak Obama's race overcame their own fears and prejudices. They were able to look beyond the color of his skin, take a courageous leap of faith and cast a ballot for the candidate that most spoke to their own issues; collectively playing a key role in electing him to the highest office of the land. I have no doubt that many if not most of those who were in my third grade class were among them.

This is a shout out to them and to all those like them, in Ohio and elsewhere, young and old, who chose to do the right thing. Thank you! You have helped restore my faith in our democracy.  You have helped to restore the rest of the world's as well. Its daunting that so many, the world over, still do look to us, the United States of America, for leadership by example. The times are tough, the economic picture bleak, but we have chosen well. Kennedy was elected in prosperous times, by a slim margin.  Obama has a greater mandate, but must somehow pull off a more Roosevelt-like feat without getting involved in a world war! I believe he is up to the job- but only if we do as the Ohioans have done, reach past our fears  and do the right thing. The success of the Obama Presidency and the fate our our nation, depend on all of us pulling together and living into Kennedy's high but not unreasonable expectation of us to "Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country."

A Second Chance

By
Amy Outlaw
on August 15, 2008 7:23 AM | | Comments (0)
Although it seems that a lifetime of experiences has occurred since June 7th, including breaking my shoulder in a bike accident on July 1st, I woke up this morning eager to write about getting the chance to do something again, this time with a better outcome- at least that's how it seems in this moment.

Tricking my mother (who has dementia) and bringing her up here to Philadelphia where all of her 5 children are, so that we could take care of her, never felt completely comfortable, though it did feel like a necessity back in May. In many ways Martha, my mother, flourished among us.  After putting her on high potency vitamins and making sure she got, at least, four squares a day, not to mention fantastic fresh ground coffee every morning, she perked up, exhibiting her tendency to be the life of the party, if not always the center of attention.  But  as important as the nutrition was, it appeared that being around her family and all the memories it stirred up, not to mention the eager listeners, was equally important, if not more so.

However, the fact that we had tricked her, though she could not keep the fact of it in her short term memory, (I now recognize) contributed to her daily wishes to go home to Florida. It was a powerful paradox. She was clearly happier and more engaged than she'd been in years and we were collectively ready to take responsibility for her care (we had forgiven all that we could and made room in our hearts and homes for her) and yet she also clearly let us know that she wanted to got back to the life she'd known for the last 17 years in Florida.  It didn't help that her partner, Al, began calling her almost daily, reminding her of his existence, and urging her to come home.  In the 7 years that I have known Al, he has never raised his voice, rarely even disagreed with anything anyone says (he just quietly refuses to answer questions that may bring up strong differences of opinion).  But when he talked to us on the phone he was furious, accusing us of tricking Martha and insisting that we let her return.  

We all felt it, the uncomfortableness of having tricked her and the lost opportunity to see if she could be brought to reason.  Knowing that she could not live anywhere, least of all back in Florida, without live-in, or daily help, we met and discussed the options.  My family had agreed to be the home that Grandma Martha needs, but we also felt that we could not take her until the fall when our middle daughter returned to college.  Cornelia, my youngest sister, agreed to return to Florida with our mother (and her two small boys), to see if Mom would come around to our point of view and come, more or less willingly, up to Philadelphia sometime in late August.

Upon arrival they found that Al, who is 91, had been rushed to the hospital a few days before for heart trouble, and then found that he had pneumonia.  Once he was well enough to leave the hospital, his children deemed it necessary for him to live with one of them.  Trish volunteered, just a few miles away form Mom's little trailer on one of the lovely little bayous the characterize much of coastal Florida. Mom visited Al once in the hospital and once at Trish's, but could not bear to be around him in his condition.  She knew she could not take care of him and though she could not bring herself to even think it, she also couldn't stomach the realization that he could no longer take care of her.

Many people counseled us against letting her return to Florida, and my oldest sister was also not so sure it was a good idea.  But we felt strongly that we had to give it a try. Our main tactic was to try to get Mom to acknowledge reality and admit that she needed help.  We were even reluctantly willing for her to stay in Florida another few months if we could arrange for in-home care. It seemed as if luck was with us when Cornelia ran into someone in the trailer park who knew Mom and now did home care for a living.  Cornelia arranged for her to come and meet with Mom and to pay for a few mornings a week to see how it might work out.  Martha would have nothing of it. She also stubbornly refused to see reality.  The more we tried to force it the more she resisted, insisting that Cornelia should go home and that she could take care of herself.

For Cornelia and her boys, Mateo (3) and Lukas (6), there were good days and bad days, but things seemed tolerable as long as there was hope that Mom would come around. In one final, last ditch effort in this (misguided) direction, I wrote Mom a letter.  In it I stated plainly and clearly what the situation was and challenged her to acknowledge this reality which I knew she knew was true. The thinking was both that I had more authority than my youngest sister in my mothers book and that if she had something in writing that she could refer to, maybe it would stick. No go.

Cornelia was wearing out and Mom was being as stubborn as ever.  We had a family conference call, attempting to figure out what next to do. We realized that the only way to get Mom back up to Philadelphia was to trick her again.  Sister Sara had agreed to fake getting married, brother-in-law John volunteered to fake dying.. but these did not seem like good options. I had, what seemed at the time, a brilliant idea.  Recently a long time family friend had visited from St.Croix.  Her mother had been Mom's best friend for many years and she used to visit every year. Nan was no longer able to travel because of health problems, so my friend, Sasha, had invited me to come down and visit them which I hadn't done in years. So... I proposed that I talk Mom into going to St.Croix to visit Nan with me and and then instead of flying back to Florida we would fly home to Philadelphia. We all thought this had the best chance of working, so I called Sasha and she agreed to put us up for a few days, as long as it was before August 11, which was only 2 weeks away at the time.

At first I was excited about the prospect of taking Mom to St.Croix and then bringing her home, and hopeful that it would do the trick with little or no fuss from Martha.  However the more I thought about it the more uncomfortable with lying I became.  Then I began to realize that the trip to St.Croix would probably not be much fun and would be a huge waste of money to boot. I still felt obligated to go down to Florida and bring my mother back up with me, but I began praying for a more legitimate reason to do so.  I bought the tickets, round trip for me and one way for Mom. In the meantime I attended a Quaker religious conference and then drove up to join my family on vacation at Shelter Island.  While I was at the conference I was told about the 200th Anniversary picnic of the Quaker Meeting my family used to belong to and where my father is buried in late August.  I filed it away, thinking that some of my siblings might want to go.

While on vacation I was lamenting that I had not come up with a good, legitimate reason for Mom to come up here that might actually appeal to her. I had also casually mentioned the picnic at Byberry Friends Meeting.  My middle daughter, Megan, pointed out that Grandma might come up for that.  I was amazed.  Why hadn't I realized it?  I was as sure as I could be that if I penned a special invitation for her she would come, since she had been asking to go visit Daddy's grave recently!

I flew down on a Friday with the return flight scheduled for Sunday afternoon. Fortunately, my sister Sara had given me a book to read to help me be able to communicate with Mom called The Validation Breakthrough by Naomi Feil. I read the whole book on the plane ride down and found it very helpful. The hypothesis is that trying to get folks with dementia (or Alzhiemer's) to see reality is useless and very often counter productive.  Validating their "thinking" or perceptions of reality, especially by reflecting back to them, in a positive light, the emotions and conflicts behind the memory or reality distortions, restores a sense of self worth and eventually allows them to accept some realities and be more flexible.  In fact, most people with dementia do sub-consciously know the score, but it is too awful or sad or depressing to acknowledge it (especially if one has used denial as the primary way of dealing with conflict or adversity).

I was alarmed and dismayed to find out that Al had recently called Mom on the phone. Along conversation had ensued, Al telling Mom he was coming back to living next door to her and that things would return to the way they had been. Al's children had invited us all out to dinner on Saturday evening, as a way of saying goodbye without actually doing so.  I decided I would not show Mom the invitation or talk about her coming up for the picnic until after that, given the circumstances.  Saturday morning we received a call from his family saying he had been rushed to the hospital again.  Mom and I went to visit him in the late morning.  He looked thinner and not happy to be back in the hospital, a walker sitting by his bed.  Mom was up-beat and affectionate, kissing him hello and chatting about this and that.  but I could tell she was uncomfortable and did not want to stay long.  We left after about 10 minutes and she gave him a long loving goodbye kiss (which brought tears to my eye's).

Afterwards she repeatedly said that he was never coming back to his house, that she couldn't take care of him and that his children needed to from now on. Phew! that was a relief!  AS she repeated the story she changed it slightly so that he now used a wheelchair and that he had started to lose it mentally.  Every time she told me about I would reply that she and Al had had 7 good years together, but that now he needed to be with his family (leaving off the rest of that thinking- that she also needed to be taken care of by hers). We went out to lunch, brought the leftovers home and then I gave her the invitation.

Her first quick response was negative.  But with very little on my part she quickly reconsidered, saying to herself that she needed to stop turning down these opportunities since who knew how much time she had left. The next hurdle was to get her to agree to come with me the next day. Again after an initial negative reaction, she said, why not? The only part I had to fudge was the date of the picnic; in the invitation it said only August 2008, and later the phrase next weekend. I didn't feel too bad about that since her sense of time is so fluid and from one moment to the next she doesn't remember what month or day it is.  

Much to my amazement she asked, rhetorically, how long she should stay, then answered herself, saying maybe a few weeks or maybe until Thanksgiving. later on she asked me what month it was, thinking she was going to spend the summer up north. But before dinner she asked me what she should do about the house, shut it up? turn off the AC? She emphatically said she did not want to sell it, but maybe rent it? I couldn't believe my ears. During dinner she asked when we were leaving and when I said tomorrow, she was shocked and said we couldn't leave then, there was too much to do to get the house ready!  Then, when I went to answer my cell phone, she went next door to Cathy's and asked her to watch over the house while she was gone.  Cathy came back over with Mom and I heard her ask Mom how long she'd be gone.  Martha responded that she wasn't sure when she'd be back. Cathy, knowing more of the situation than Mom knew (at least consciously) told us both that we could leave any not finished tasks for her, such as cleaning out the refridge! Mom really does have sweet neighbors.

The next morning, of course, Mom did not remember- but once I reminded her she was right on board (thank goodness!). We were a little late returning the rented car, since our flight was at 2 PM- there was no time to refill the gas tank.  But it is almost as if Mom has never looked back.  After being here only 24 hours, she told her granddaughter, Megan, that she was a Philadelphian now.  She has been staying at Cornelia's for the past 4 days and has only mentioned going "home" once to my knowledge.  Only time will tell, but I think we got it right this time.  Although she has not admitted that she cannot take care of herself any longer, she seems to know that she is here to stay, surrounded by her children and grand children.  She may never "admit" it, but that is completely irrelevant. 

I am grateful for the second chance, and greatly relieved that the ordeal is over and that all went so smoothly! I am both amazed and humbled by the whole thing.  So many little pieces had to fall into place and they did. Some were serendipitous, some planned, many people played a part. Thanks to all.  And guess what- the real adventure is only just beginning...

Kidnapping My Mother

By
Amy Outlaw
on June 7, 2008 10:03 PM | | Comments (0)
Nearly 18 years ago, after the successful treatment of her breast cancer, my mother moved down to Florida. For the first years she would always come up for 2 or 3 months during the warm weather and stay with one or the other of my siblings or me. But she would often leave abruptly, and to us unexpectedly. It seemed that in some respect she had moved as far away from us and anyone that she knew as she could, creating a new life that essentially didn't include us.  Mom has a partner that lives next door.  Seven years ago they met, fell in love and made a commitment of sorts, though did not get married.  When it became available, he bought the trailer next to hers.  Now they have a 'his and hers' arrangement, you know, instead of his and her rooms, its his and her trailers.   It became evident about 5 years back that she had dementia, and that  the road ahead would not be much fun. But their bond was strong enough that Al has hung in there.  

A few years ago Mom stopped driving and cooking, so Al has done all the driving and cooking.  For most of my Mom's life she's been a fantastic bread maker and it was the one thing she continued to do, if sporatically. However, when I visited last October it was evident that she had stopped doing even that. In other ways she seemed to be doing OK.  She'd gotten smaller and frailer, but was basically happy and healthy.  She'd developed some odd habits, such as dumpster diving, and hoarding plastic bags and lightly used napkins.  She ate breakfast in her own kitchen, mostly just toast and coffee, and it appeared that she sometimes forgot to eat lunch.  Al cooked dinner or they went out to eat so it seemed to be working and Mom had made it abundantly clear that she preferred to stay in her own home in Florida with Al next door for as long as possible.

Two weeks ago my sister and I flew down to visit. This time, things were different right from the start.  There was virtually no food in Mom's refrigerator other than some shriveled  grapefruit, dried up nubs of cheese and several containers of half eaten food or dessert brought home from eating out. Every surface including the kitchen table was completely covered with junk.  Although she was glad to see us, every five minutes she would complain of tiredness and need to sit down, lay back and rest.  She was also painfully thin and much frailer than when either of us had last visited.  Over the last several years her skin has gotten thinner and blotchier.  She bumps herself often, especially on her shins, and whenever she does she tears her skin requiring a trip to the emergency room since she has refused to see any doctor regularly. We were shocked when we saw her legs.  Her shins were almost entirely dark brown, with black splotches and scabs here and there. They didn't seem to cause her pain, but she hid them in embarrassment. 

My sister and I were unable to take it all in, at first.  We were also starving, not having eaten on the plane (snacks now cost!) As soon as Al returned from his pinocle game with the car, we rushed out and bought lots of good healthy food and stocked Mom's fridge right up. (This was total confirmation that one should never go shopping when one is very hungry- we bought way too much!) We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening cleaning up her house and throwing lots of things out, when we weren't eating. We made sure that Mom had a healthy snack and augmented the dinner that Al had cooked with a roasted chicken and fresh green salad.

Late that night, after dozing off a couple of times, I was finally able to talk to my husband.  He's a doctor. His take on things was that Mom's circulation wasn't good, mostly due to aging, but it seemed to him that she was also not getting enough to eat and therefore not enough nutrients were getting to her skin to allow it to heal properly. God knows what I dreamed that night, but when I awoke, it was with the clear sense that we had to take my mother home with us immediately to get some good medical advice, since there was no doctor familiar with her case in or near Tarpon Springs. (It did not seem like a good time to try to establish a new doctor patient relationship; over the years we have tried to hook her up to various local doctors without success).  Plus, my husband is the best physician I know and has functioned as her doctor from when she used to live in the Philadelphia area and then when she would visit us with some regularity. 

My sister concurred and we bought Mom a ticket and changed ours; we were on our way to Philadelphia by 3PM. I think both of us realized subconsciously that we were taking Mom home to be cared for and that there was a good chance she would not come back.  But we convinced Mom to come because she really needed to see her doctor son-in-law to get help with her legs. I had only packed a few things for her to bring and we checked no baggage.  We asked Al to use what he could from the overstocked fridge and took a little with us.

At first Mom was excited to see everyone, though she kept forgetting who she'd seen and where she was and who I am. She also kept asking why she was her and not in Florida.  She also did not believe her doctor (my husband) when he said she had lost too much weight; 25 lbs, and that she was undernourished- or at least, not enough nutrients were getting to her skin to heal properly.  She would scoff every time he said it or any of us repeated it and then would launch into her story about how the bruises were caused by her many years of playing field hockey and lacrosse. It was hard not to laugh at this, since if she ever played either of these sports it was in high school gym class 66 years ago!

We have been making sure that she takes her high potency vitamins and minerals, getting 3 delicious and nutritious meals a day.  She is full of energy, when she is not napping, laughs and jokes a lot and seems to remember more often where she is, if not why she is here. She even got up and danced at her grandson's 18th birthday party! She has been a fabulous dancer all her life, but I hadn't seen (or heard of) her dancing in years. Its a very mixed bag, at least once a day and sometimes several times a day she lets it be known that she wants to go back home, but the rest of the time she seems to be happy and having a fuller life than she's had in recent years.

A  few days ago I got the chance to make her a little picture album with captions.  She had told me several times that she couldn't remember what my dad (her husband) looked like.  Mostly I can remember to say to her that although she was married to him for 18 years, that she has lived for 46 years without him after he died so its no surprise she can't remember him. We spent a good hour going over the pictures together.  She recognized most people right away since most of them are also lodged in her long term memory, not the short term which is so problematic.  Occasionally she would go of on one of her favorite, factually incorrect stories (which I am gradually learning not to try and correct!)  When we were finished- she mentioned that there was a restaurant that she like to go to, it had a salad bar that you could go back to as many times as you like.  She went on about the food for a few more sentences and then said, "there is someone I used to go to this restaurant with all the time.  What was his name?... who was that?..." I hesitated a moment and then asked, "Is it Al?" Her response was, "That  doesn't ring a bell."

Later that same day, I noticed at supper that she was writing his name on her napkin.  He has called 3 times in the past week, increasingly distraught and very angry at us for keeping her up here against her will. He really misses her.  I am afraid that it is not quite reciprocal.  Mom misses him, but more than him she misses her home and her sense of independence, which is only possible with Al/s support. Still it is a terrible dilemma.  In the best of all worlds we would be supporting her 100% to live out her days in her own home, and I have no doubt that if she lived near any of her 5 children that would be possible, at least for a while longer.  None of us is available to move down to Florida and none feel we can manage the situation from 1000 miles away.

So here I am pondering the fact that, in essence, I have kidnapped my mother and taken her away from her home to live in the bosom of her family. We all live in the city of Philadelphia, within a half hours drive of each other (3 of us live within an 8 block radius!) We want what is best for her and we think that means spending the last few years of her life with us as she slowly looses touch with  'reality'- but she is still quite capable of letting her wishes be known.  If you ask her she will tell you, she wants to live in her beautiful little home on the water in Florida, next to Al.

Earthquakes, Cyclones and one little girl in Zimbabwe

By
Amy Outlaw
on May 23, 2008 8:07 PM | | Comments (0)
Two weeks ago the bad news started steamrolling in. First tens of thousands of deaths in Myanmar then tens of thousands of deaths in China.  The news was full of Cyclones, earthquakes, volcanoes and tornadoes. Made the twenty something deaths in the American mid-west seem like nothing.  It was almost enough to make me wonder if the Jehovah's Witnesses are right!

As the days have gone by the tens of thousands have turned into 50 thousand and 100 thousand.  It is too much, boggles the mind, too much... At the same time, I found out that a little girl, baby, really, whom I love as much as my own, was finally released from the hospital in Botswana where she has lived since her mother died when she was only three months old. She was taken to live with her great grandmother in Zimbabwe. both her parents were illegal residents of Botwsana when she was born- hoping for a better life than the chaos and massive unemployment at home in Zimbabwe.  

In the end, or in the long run, this will be celebrated as a blessing, but in her short life Hilary Shula Ndebele has never known any other home but Nyagabgwe Hospital Children's Ward.  Not a great place for a baby to grow up, you say? That's what I thought in the beginning, too.  But there she was fed and cared for, developed attachments, learned to walk.  She became a happy, slightly spoiled and mischevious toddler. Sent to Zimbabwe, to a great grandmother she's never known before, in a country in dire trouble, where political disasters foster famine and inflation beyond belief, what will happen to her. How must she feel uprooted form all she knows and everyone she loves and who love her?  She had never been outside of the hospital, before this.

Am I weeping just for her? or is it a place that I can actually feel the heartache and sorrow, when for the nearly two hundred thousand dead, it is just a kind of numbing statistic that I can't quite fathom? She who has fallen asleep in my arms, whose chubby hands I adore, whose smile brightens up my day even when I can only see it on my monitor and not in person. I fear for her, for hear physical and mental health, so little, so innocent, so sweet- yet not at all different than the tens of thousands of other little ones who have died or are now orphans- all vulnerable, to hunger, abuse, disease, starvation ,death, living a nightmare, I hope Hilary never will. 

I dream that her great grandmother adores her, loves her, soothes her fears and cuddles her to sleep.  I dream that she gets to play in the dirt, feel the rain on her arms and the sun on her face.  I dream that she looks at the green leaves and the blue sky and makes friends with the insects and birds and lizards.  That she has enough to eat and hardly ever goes hungary. That the lessons she is learning are not so much that everyone she loves and depends on leaves, but more that everywhere she goes people love her, one one person dies or leaves another appears and takes care of her, that, for the most part, this is a marvelous place and that she has been lucky, indeed.

Of course this is what I wish for every child. Hilary is just the one that has touched my life. I can imagine what she is going through, it seems real and not so overwhelming that its numbing.  I can pray for her, I might even be able to make a small difference in her life. What if each of us allowed ourselves to be touched like that by just one child? Allowed ourselves to fall in love and dream and try? would it make a difference? 

Perhaps I am fooling myself, in this, but Mother Theresa's words come to mind. Few of us get to do great things. We get to do  small things with great love. And that, my friends, makes all the difference.

Blue Sustainability & Wal*Mart

By
Amy Outlaw
on May 4, 2008 6:42 PM | | Comments (0)

For most of us who consider ourselves GREEN, Wal*Mart is a dirty word; we wouldn't be caught dead shopping there.  Although Adam Werbach's name will never become a household word, it is generating some pretty nasty epitaphs among some greenies lately. Is it because he is trying to promote BLUE instead of GREEN?  Is it because he has gone over to the other side and works with Wal*Mart? Or is it because he claims that our GREEN movement is too narrow and too negative AND that Wal*mart, its 2 million employees and it's 200 million customers, can change the world?


On April 10, 2008 Werbach, the former boy wonder head of the Sierra Club, addressed the Commonwealth Club in San Francisco.  His speech, entitled The Birth of Blue, calls for a new movement of consumers pushing for sustainability. [If you want to read the whole thing, it is posted on < http//gristmill.grist.org >.] It is one of the most fascinating. potentially hopeful, things I have read in recent years.


There is no question that Wal*Mart can change the world; it already has, for the worse! Although I suppose that may depend on your point of view. I imagine it has made the world better, or, at least, life easier, for many families struggling to make ends meet. That last aside, can enlightened self-interest apply to a giant corporation? 


Adam Werbach thinks it can and it does.  But first, we need to understand a few things.  BLUE for instance.  In his own words, Werbach says," As vast and common as the ocean, BLUE is a platform for  sustainability that goes beyond the deep, beautiful green of environmentalism. Green puts the planet at the center of the dialogue. BLUE puts people at the center.


"... Green represents the simple and inarguable wisdom of ecology: that all things are connected. BLUE brings together a broader set of human concerns, from practice to price, from nature to society. BLUE integrates all four streams of sustainability: social, cultural, economic and environmental. BLUE puts the way we treat ourselves and each other at the center of our focus." [1]


Wal*Mart is already taking the lead, according to Werbach. Wal*Mart has set three goals: 1)Produce zero waste, 2) Be powered by rewable energy, and 3) Sell only green products. And they have indtroduced PSPs, Personal Sustainablbility Practices.  Werbach worked with Wal*Mart to create  this program that encourages and creates a support structure that is simple and voluntary. PSPs are characterized by the following; Sustains the environment, Makes you happy, Affects the community, Repeatable and Takes visible action, SMART.  So far there has been tremendous success. 


Employees have done things like commit to riding a bike to work, change all their light bulbs to CLFs, care for a park, make healthy breakfasts for the kids, compost, but once these have been accomplished they have moved on to things like losing weight, getting diabetes under control and reconnecting with a daughter, as well as getting a recycling program in the local high school, dumping the deep fryer and serving  organic veggies and other healthy snacks at the ball games instead of hot dogs...


In his speech Werbach outlined the 3 desired outcomes for the BLUE movement. "First, to measurably improve the quality of life of people who join. Second, to engage as many people as possible in the effort, and third, to increase the effectiveness of their activism. The primary tactic is getting one billion people to create their own personal sustainability practices." [2] And he doesn't mean just in the US and Western European nations. China and India not only have the largest populations but the fastest growing economies.  This is especially true in China, and they are becoming increasingly aware of the costs of pollution as well as beginning to make sustainable choices and changes.


 Werbach states his long term goal as  "nothing short of building a world full of happy people contributing to a healthy planet."  He goes on to say that, "In the next five years, we need to build a billion-person movement, representing over $1 trillion in consumer buyer power -- consumers who are maintaining their PSPs and acting on them when they shop.


"To create a world full of happy people, we need to go far beyond reducing our individual carbon imprints. Happiness requires that the material, Maslovian needs of the nine billion people projected to be living on the planet by the end of the century are met, so we need enough resources for all of them." [3]

That, fellow greenies,appears to be the essential difference between BLUE and GREEN.  We in the green movement up until now have tried to promote a future that leaves the billions of people in China, India and elsewhere in the developing world, permanently underdeveloped, while urging a course for ourselves and other westerners of decreasing consumption and de-industrialization.  Meanwhile, China and India are ignoring this and zooming full speed ahead with development.  

Is it possible to meet the projected basic needs of 9 billion people and have sustainable systems in the social, cultural,economic and environmental spheres by then end of this century? If it is, I suspect that working with Wal*Mart and other huge corporations (as well as small) who voluntarily commit to substantially lowering their environmental impact, is the way to go. but only time (and billions of us making similar committments) will tell.

When you look at our beautiful home, the planet Earth, from space, you see some green, but mostly you see blue. Whose ready to sign up for a PSP?  I just committed myself to watering plants with household grey water (rinse water from the kitchen sink and our shower). AND I may just make my first trip to,( dare I say it out loud?), Wal*Mart.


1,2 and 3   < http://gristmill.grist.org >. The Birth of Blue, Adam Werbach 4/10/08

   


  



Footprint Shmootprint, I Want to Eat

By
Amy Outlaw
on April 25, 2008 6:19 PM | | Comments (0)
There has been a debate going on among the food conscious lately about organic vs local and  the size of our food footprint.  Footprint here meaning how much fossil fuel is used and how much carbon dioxide is produced in the growing, transporting and preparing of the food we eat.  Although this is a debate which engages me and I enjoy arguing about, I want to cut to the chase before I go on and on, so that, if anyone reads this, they can get the information up front (Much as Michael Pollen did in The New York Times Magazine article he wrote debunking nutritional science by starting with the advice, "Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants."[1])

If you want to have a significant impact on the footprint mentioned above, my advice is, Get informed. Find others who agree. Take action. (Action that will effect local, national and international policies governing agriculture and food production and transport.)

I am not saying that what you do, personally is not important, either to your own health and well being or to creating change in this area.  In fact, I agree with whoever the wise person is who said, its easier to act yourself into a new way of thinking than to think yourself into a new way of acting.  This agreement, however, will not stop me from attempting to talk you into, at least, thinking about all this.  So, we humans, need to start where we are.  Most of us want to eat, want to enjoy eating, want to not have to pay too much for it. We also wish that someone else would prepare it for us. Is that asking too much?  (I'm not going to answer that just yet.)

I have a confession, food and eating are dear to my heart (and stomach), not to mention, somewhat of an obsession. Perhaps it all started with my mother's homemade whole wheat bread back in the fifties.  We never, I mean never, bought bread when I was a child.  On special occasions Mom would make white bread or sticky-buns much to everyone's delight. All this home-baked business had a somewhat surprising effect on my older sister. It made store-bought bread, especially that white, squishy, air-filled stuff seem exotic. She frequently got other kids to trade one of her wholesome, home-baked bread sandwiches for ones made with the store-bought stuff!

Anyway I didn't fall far from the tree, except that when I was 45 I discovered that I was mildly wheat intolerant, so I no longer eat wheat or anything made with wheat flour, whole or white. Plus, these days, you can get such great whole grain breads of many sorts, that who bakes anything anymore?! Well, I do, whenever I get the chance, which isn't that often, because you can't get great non-wheat baked goods, though even that is changing. 

My kids have grown up on home cooked food, which over the last 10 years has been increasingly organic and now local.  But, just in the interests of complete disclosure, we do love to eat out or order out and we happen to have some great moderately priced restaurants within two blocks of our house! But it hasn't always been easy to get my husbands approval of this particularly because of the expense involved. 

Fortunately along with being a cheapskate or frugal, my husband also likes to be well informed and loves to read; Consumer Reports is OK by him.  Several years ago I read their take on organic produce.  Although they recommended buying organic whenever possible because of its positive effect on the environment, not too mention that it tastes better and is better for you.  However, because, organic food was not that easy to get and expensive they did some research and found that pesticides could be washed off virtually all fruits and vegetables with just soap and water. Just taking the time to wash them reduced the pesticide by up to 99%.

So, back to the footprint thing.  Think oil; not cooking oil, but the black stuff that currently cost $200 a barrel. Although fertilizer is not made from petroleum as is commonly thought (its made from petroleum's twin, natural gas.) Even so, all the machines used in large scale farming production use diesel petroleum: plows, planters, harvesters, and also the enormous amount of water used is pumped by machines that use diesel. Then there are the trucks and the refrigeration needed to bring it all to us, both use lots of petroleum as well.[2]

Now, on top of that, all food prices are soaring because of the commodities speculators(who are making a killing while poverty stricken populations are starving and rioting over food prices). As far as I can tell this is due to the rush to use food- mostly corn- for fuel! Its all really too much to think about- but I can't help myself!

Here's what I recommend: "Eat Food.  Not to much.  Mostly plants." This is deceptively simple.  First of all much of what gets packaged and sold to us isn't really food. Its chemicals and food additives.  Its better for your health and the health of the planet to avoid all those non-foods.  This unfortunately means not buying and eating much that is processed. Not too much is just what it says. Mostly plants, of course, means mostly fruits, vegetables and grains.  But it doesn't say only plants, so that leaves room for meat and fish, eggs and dairy.

One thing that I have found helpful is to imagine that there is a line dividing my plate in half.  The top half is for fruits and/or vegetables.  Then the bottom half is divided in half again making fourths. One fourth is for protein, e.g. meat, fish, eggs or beans/tofu, and the other is for starch e.g. potatoes, rice, pasta or bread (whole grain, of course). If you are trying to lose weight or maintain it (especially after the age of 45) some good rules are, no seconds of protein or starch allowed, seconds of veggies and fruits OK, especially salad and decide before hand whether to have a starch or dessert- not both.

I would also recommend buying local and organic if you can.  Our local farmers market has great things at a variety of prices, and most venders accept food stamps.  Also several of the farms have CSAs. What this means is that you can pay upfront at the beginning of the season and then you get fresh produce all season long at a decent price.  A full share in the Philadelphia region is between $500-600.  But you can get a half share or two families or small households could go in together. 

Community gardening is another great way to get really local and organic produce.  Although time consuming, many people find that it is time well spent.  You get to know neighbors and you get to experience the miracle of tiny little seeds growing into big beautiful vegetables and fruits- plus they taste so much better when you've grown them yourself! Plus there is almost no carbon footprint at all!!!


 

 

 Footnotes

1. "Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants." Michael Pollan Unhappy Meals, NYTimes magazine, January  28, 2007

 2.  "...behind the great success story lies a dark, foreboding fact: almost every component of our food production and distribution system is dependent on low cost petroleum. Fertilizer, in the form of ammonia, is made from natural gas; which has recently tripled in price. The various machines used to plant, till and harvest crops all run on diesel fuel. Pesticides, herbicides and fungicides are almost entirely produced by plants that use petroleum as the primary feedstock. Fresh vegetables and meat are transported to our local markets by diesel fueled trucks, and these products are kept cold in transit by diesel fueled refrigeration units. Much of the water used to irrigate crops today is ground water that needs to be pumped out of the ground by large diesel motors. Our entire food supply chain is critically dependent on petroleum," (Oil on the Plate <riograndeorganics.com>)

    

 

 

 

 

Water & the Demise of Largeness; for Earth Day, everyday

By
Amy Outlaw
on April 21, 2008 10:41 AM | | Comments (0)
The history of water on this planet has an interesting place in our lives. My understanding of how things went down is as follows.  The sun and all the planets of this particular solar system were quite hot upon birth.  After a billion or so years as the earth cooled water was formed.  All the water that exists now was formed then. Water is a critical ingredient in all life on this planet. Research has shown that it takes a molecule of water  approximately 3 years to circulate the entire globe. Circulate the entire globe means, that a particular molecule of water travels and exists in every location where water is, every place!

It is a well known fact that we humans are about 75%-80% water; the cells in our body consist primarily of water. (That is why the eight glasses of water/liquid a day is a good idea!) So... the water in my body, and yours, has been everywhere; in every stream and ocean, up in the sky as clouds and in birds, in the blood and tears of mothers and soldiers, flushed down the toilet, bubbled up through clear mountain springs, in animals, insects, fishes, in loved ones and those we deem enemies...

Water truly connects us all.




The Demise of Largeness

 

All things evolve or perish

Dinosaurs seemed to vanish

in some cataclysmic event

Until someone noticed a similarity to birds

Large, seemingly cumbersome bodies

A few so heavy their feet shook the ground

Yet somehow elegant, beautiful

Showing beyond a doubt

the physical parameters of life on earth

A natural grandiosity

doomed to failure

If, indeed, it was

 

Consider the birds

Diminutive descendants of thunder lizards

They fly at what expense?

Hollow, breakable bones

Allowing them to soar in godlike fashion

Cavorting with rainbows

and hurricanes

 

Now the whole earth trembles with our weight

What massive global event

portends the demise of our largeness?

 

Perhaps some new creature will evolve

from our unduly dense bones

to soar beyond imagining

On wings of spirit

so light

No footprint will be seen

or felt

at all

 

 

White Shoes

By
Amy Outlaw
on April 18, 2008 3:54 PM | | Comments (0)

One spring Marie-Louie brought Janine to this country with help from a charitable organization that arranges medical care for children in desperate straits.  They were placed with a neighbor family through a local group called Hosts for Hospitals.  Barely 18 months old, Janine was small and frightened, sick with a rare form of cancer in her eye.  Neither she nor her mother spoke English since they were from Haiti, in fact, Janine had not yet started to speak at all.  She clung to her mother, rarely daring to peek out with her good eye, her body language clearly expressing the pain and fear she was forced to endure.

              What a change good medical care brought about.  Within 48 hours she was alert, looking around and occasionally even smiled, though she still stayed very close to Mom.  Within a few days she had recovered from the other ailments enough to begin the chemotherapy.  Janine's recovery seemed miraculous.  Soon she was running around, playing peek-a-boo and even beginning to talk!  However, the treatment was going to take much longer than anticipated.  This was more than one family could manage, since Marie-Louie and Janine had no source of income. 

              A group of neighbors decided they could do it if they all took turns.  Four families took on the responsibility- all within the same block.  Janine soon had 4 sisters and 3 brothers, not to mention the 4 aunties and various uncles in the mix.  She danced into the heart of each of them, and just about anyone else who got to know her.  Janine loved shoes, her own especially, but everyone else's, too.  She would often insist that other people notice and comment admiringly on her shoes.  Afterwards she would insist on admiring theirs as well.  Much of this was done in an elaborate sign language with a few English and French words thrown in. 

              Janine continued to be treated for the cancer.  French was learned or brought back to life after long neglect.  The two only-children in the bunch began to experience what it was like to have a sibling.  The four families drew closer and better connected.  Life was good despite the normal ups and downs and extra stress of a 'family' member undergoing treatment for cancer.  Hope blossomed and looked to bare fruit.

              Five months in, the bad news came; the cancer was back.  The doctors explained that there was nothing more they could do, other than make her death as comfortable as possible when it came.  After the initial shock wore off and tears dried, the families pulled together.  Comforting Marie as best they could, they vowed to see that Janine had a good, and as normal as possible, last bit of time here on earth.  She died  peacefully, a month later at the hospital, in the arms of one of the aunties.

              Although, this story doesn't have a happy ending, Janine did.  She came to this country a small sick, stranger, in pain and afraid.  She left this life surrounded by people who loved her, having touched the hearts of many more than most ever do.  She laughed and danced and showed off her shoes.  Though she endured much, ultimately, Janine experienced happiness, growth and many good days. 

Neatly placed by the front door of one of the houses where she lived is a small pair of white patent leather shoes, a fitting shrine for one who still dances joyfully in our hearts.

 

     

 

     

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