All in the Family at Wesley Palms

Employees enjoy working with family members


Francisco Murillo remembers the day in 1977 when he applied for a housekeeping position at Wesley Palms. The then 24-year-old got a ride from his dad to the retirement community high atop Mt. Soledad in Pacific Beach.

“That was the first time my dad told me the story of how he helped build Wesley Palms in the late 1950s and early 1960s,” Francisco said. “He was a pipefitter back then and was hired to use his expertise for Wesley Palms.”



Housekeeper Francisco Murillo has worked at Wesley Palms for more than 40 years. .

Wesley Palms opened in 1962 when Francisco was about nine years old. “Obviously I knew my dad went to work every day but I didn’t know exactly where,” Francisco said. “When he told me the story I was very surprised. I thought … I have a chance to work at a place my dad help built. How about that! Thinking back, I wish I could have visited my dad here when he was building this place.”

Francisco’s sister has photos of their dad at work at Wesley Palms. The iconic façade of main building is pretty much the same on the outside but of course, the new patio homes have replaced the original cottages. “That’s a huge change from the original cottages that my dad built. Back then, Wesley Palms was probably considered a new concept with its large open spaces and cottages. Now, the new patio homes at Wesley Palms are unique.” Francisco is now Wesley’s longest standing employee at more than 40 years.

Francisco isn’t the only employee with family ties at Wesley. Husband and wife, Laura and Juan Vargas have been working together for more than 13 years. Laura is the housekeeping supervisor and Juan is in the maintenance department. Laura began at the community first and then Juan joined her two years later.

“We both started in housekeeping but then after a few years Juan encouraged me to apply for the director’s position,” Laura said. “If I got the job, he knew he would have to transfer to another department since family members can’t supervise each other. He was sad at first that we would not be working closely together anymore but he soon found new energy on the maintenance team. He’s one of that department’s top employees now.”



Husband and wife Juan and Laura Vargas love working together at Wesley Palms.

 

“We take our first break together every day and then we don’t see each other until we get home,” Juan said. “Sometimes we like to swap stories around the dinner table about how our day has gone or we tell a funny story a resident told us.”

And then there is Muhannad Sofi and his 17-year-old daughter Delan Sofi-Haji. Muhannad has been dining room manager for 21 years and last year Delan joined the team as a receptionist. “I told Delan that Wesley is great place to work and left it up to her if she wanted to apply for a job here,” Muhannad said. 

“I kind of grew up here,” Delan said. ”My dad would tell me stories about how nice the residents are and how much fun he has doing his job so I decided to apply. Now I have my own stories to tell about our incredible residents.”

Wesley Palms’ staff are not the only ones who have family connections. Many residents are second generation. Longtime resident Bob Crabb’s mother lived at Wesley Palms in the 1970s as did resident Holly Steere’s parents and Becky Graber has the privilege of currently living at Wesley Palms with her mother.

“I’m not surprised we have both second generation residents and staff here,” said Executive Director Ben Geske. “Word gets out that Wesley is a great place to work and live. We’re a family here.”

 

Can age be “just a number?” I’d say no.

by Ashton Applewhite, reposted with permission from ThisChairRocks 

 

The phrase has always made me uneasy, partly because it’s usually accompanied by a picture of an older person doing something considered “age-inappropriate,” like wearing a wacky outfit or doing something acrobatic. The bigger issue is that it trivializes something important. Age is indeed “only a number,” as long as that number reflects how many times we’ve circled the sun. Age is real. Age differences can’t be wished away, nor should they be.

Needless to say, it’s complicated, just like the discourse around telling people how old you are. It’s important to claim your age, and just as important to push back: to ask what difference the number makes in the questioner’s mind, and why? The longer we live, after all, the more different from one another we become. That makes chronological age an ever-less-reliable indicator of what a person is capable of or interested in, so it makes a certain sense to decline to identify with it. That’s one reason so many octogenarians maintain, truthfully, that they still feel fifty, forty, or even thirty inside—that “age is just a number.”

The other reason they feel that way is internalized ageism: the belief that younger = better and that their older selves have less value than their younger selves. That’s why fudging or disavowing our age is so problematic. It gives the number more power than it deserves. It distances us from our peers. And it reinforces ageist thinking, by implying that our years are something to be ashamed rather than proud of, and suggesting that capacities might erode or relationships founder if the number came to light.

People can be far apart in years and have plenty in common, as we realize the minute we bust out of age silos. That’s why I loved an article by Gina Pell called Meet the Perennials—her witty proposal for what those of us who refuse to be constrained by generational moats start calling ourselves. “It’s time we chose our own category based on shared values and passions and break out of the faux constructs behind an age-based system of classification,” she writes. “We are ever-blooming, relevant people of all ages who live in the present time, know what’s happening in the world, stay current with technology, and have friends of all ages.” My people!

So what’s not to like? The article’s tired tagline: “age ain’t nothing but a number.” (This may well have been an editor’s handiwork, not Pell’s.) It’s the age-based version of “post-racial.” It’s happy talk, papering over the very real differences between being younger and older. It’s important to acknowledge those differences because it’s part of what makes relationships authentic. Because the differences are interesting. Because the exchange of skills and stories across generations is the natural order of things.

Those differences aren’t what stand between us and age equity. The obstacle is ageism—the age segregation that cuts us off from most of humanity and the prejudice that justifies it. As Pell writes, “Tolerance feels unattainable when there are hard lines drawn between decades, and terms like Boomers, GenX, and GenY keep us separate and at odds.”

 If we’re going to dismantle ageism, we’re going to have to collaborate across those artificial “generation gaps.” Gerontologist Jenny Sasser, whose Gero-punk Manifesto ought to be required reading for all Perennials, describes this beautifully:

The revolution around dismantling ageism can’t happen unless we can create cross-generational coalitions, which can’t happen if we can’t meet each other in the middle across age difference and become friends. Not despite age differences, but across them—because we are both similar and different, because we are all traveling through the life course at the same time but are at different phases of the journey. We need to ask better questions about when age and generation differences matter, and when they don’t. And help each other develop a keener critical capacity for seeing through the socially constructed ideas and structures that keep us in conflict rather than in cooperation. 

Hold this in our heads and it’s far easier to reject young vs. old ways of thinking, to make friends of all ages, and to find common cause. Pitting the generations against each other is one of the major tactics used by the wealthy and powerful to divide those who might otherwise unite against them in pursuit of a fairer world for all. It’s like pitting groups of low-wage workers against each other, or the interests of stay-at-home moms against women in the paid workforce. The underlying issue is a living wage for all, and redress requires collective action. When issues are instead framed as zero-sum—more for “them” means less for “us”—it’s harder to see that the public good is at stake and the issue affects everyone. The objective, in the words of historian David Hackett Fischer, is to create a world “in which the deep eternal differences between age and youth are recognized and respected without being organized into a system of social inequality.” That social order has to work for all ages, and we Perennials and Gero-punks need to roll up our sleeves and help shape it.

Author and activist Ashton Applewhite is the author of This Chair Rocks: A Manifesto Against Ageism. In 2016, she joined PBS site Next Avenue’s annual list of 50 Influencers in Aging as their Influencer of the Year. She has been recognized by the New York Times, National Public Radio, and the American Society on Aging as an expert on ageism. Ashton blogs at This Chair Rocks and is the voice of Yo, Is This Ageist? She has written for Harper’s, Playboy, the New York Times, and many other publications, and speaks widely, at venues that have ranged from universities and community centers to the TED mainstage and the United Nations. Ageism is emerging as a pressing human rights and social justice issue, and Ashton has become a leading spokesperson for a movement to mobilize against it.  

Fredericka Manor Residents Follow Family Tradition

During Ardith Eaton’s residency at Fredericka Manor, her son, Rick, looked forward to their frequent visits. Rick not only enjoyed their mother son time together, but the two often reminisced about how Rick’s grandfather fell in love with Fredericka Manor decades earlier.

“Mom and I used to laugh about how during the 1970s my grandfather, who lived here for 10 years, used to always say … living at Fredericka Manor was like living like a millionaire,” Rick said. “My mom lived happily here for 15 years. That says a lot about this community. I consider it a true landmark in Chula Vista and the South Bay.”

Perhaps one of the biggest compliments to the quality of life at Fredericka can be attributed to several residents who followed in their parents or family member’s footsteps and chose to make Fredericka Manor their retirement destination.

Dr. Paul Erickson, another second-generation resident, fondly remembers visiting his mother in the 1970s and 80s. Most vivid is Paul’s recollection of the dining room etiquette. “It was a time and a place where gentlemen wore coats and ladies wore dresses to dinner,” says Paul with a grin. “I don’t think I could have gotten away with what I have on today,” pointing to his polo shirt and Bermuda shorts. “We’re much more casual now. I like that

Fredericka changes with the times.”

“My mother loved it here,” Paul continued. “When it comes to Fredericka Manor, mother and I had one thing in common – we love the people. The friendliness of the residents and the willingness of the staff to go out of their way has never changed. It’s the same when mother was here as it is now. It’s why I moved here!”

“Dad enjoyed living at Fredericka but he would have loved it more today,” said second-generation resident Mary Ellen Munyon, treasurer for the Fredericka Club, a member of the Fredericka Manor Hospitality Committee and whose father lived at the community in the early 2000s. “He would have loved the choices residents have now. Fredericka gets better with age.”

For Rick, now retirement age himself, following in his family’s footsteps is a possibility. “When I decide to move here, it will be like coming home.”

How I Finally Found the Right Volunteer Experience

Giving back isn’t always as simple as it sounds, but it's worth it

By Jill Smolowe for Next Avenue


Credit: Getty ImagesMan using computer keyboard, close up


In 2011, social entrepreneur Nancy Lublin had an aha moment: Millennials don’t dial into help lines when they’re in crisis because they hate speaking on the phone. Two years later, Lublin launched the Crisis Text Line, a 24/7 crisis-intervention hotline that enables people to reach out for free help via text messaging — a communication comfort zone for people in their teens and 20s. Plainly, it was an idea whose time had come: In just three years, the hotline’s crisis counselors have exchanged 28 million messages with texters nationwide.

When I first read about the Crisis Text Line, I was instantly interested. Its focus on helping young people in a moment of distress promised to make good use of skills I’d developed as a grief and divorce coach. Couple that with my ongoing search for a satisfying volunteer experience, and it seemed like a slam dunk…

…until I thought about the texting thing. That conjured visions of me tapping out typo after typo with my too-big thumbs on the too-small buttons on my cell phone (a device with which I hardly have a love relationship). I took a pass.

Try, Try Again

As I continued to look for a volunteer opportunity, I was surprised to discover that it’s not so easy to find an outlet that tidily matches the skills and passion you have to offer with the needs of an organization.

One friend told me that she knocked on non-profit doors for years trying to find an outlet for her environmental interests, only to come up empty-handed. Another friend who wanted to do advocacy work for homeless dogs found that the free offer of her time was not enough to get her phone calls returned.

Over the next eight weeks, trainers armed me with a canny array of skills for guiding people through a moment of crisis.

Some of my own efforts proved discouraging. A group that works with grieving children put me through a day-long training, only to notify me that my services wouldn’t be needed at an upcoming weekend-long event. A mentorship writing program that pairs high school girls with professional writers put me on a wait list. Given that I don’t have two heads, do have good manners, and offer a professional track record in both the writing and grief-work fields, I suspected that I was an older candidate than either organization was seeking.

Age proved a non-issue when I signed up for a tutoring program. My fourth-grader and I hit it off from the get-go. But he was a bright 10-year-old boy who didn’t actually need tutoring. Each Wednesday we’d tear through his (boring!) assignments, then play games. Mostly, he kicked my butt at chess. Often our time together felt more like babysitting than “giving back.” (And, ahem, my math skills were not always terribly useful to him.)


A New Approach

Around the time his school year was winding down, my daughter returned from college, absent her cell phone, which mistakenly had gone home with another student. Given my daughter’s 24/7 texting habits, I assumed that retrieving her phone would be a priority. To my surprise, she was actually enjoying the time untethered to a phone. To my greater surprise, that freedom hadn’t cut her off from exchanging texts with her friends.

“I do it on the computer,” she told me.

Subtext: Duh.

Valhalla! Texting via computer would mean a full-size keyboard, a big monitor and none of that annoying thumbs-only stuff that, for me, produces more typos than real words.

Quickly I found my way to crisistextline.org and clicked the “Apply Now” button for volunteers. After clearing the assorted hurdles (including a criminal background check and references from two people) and making a yearlong commitment to handle calls four hours a week, I was assigned to an online training pod.

Becoming a Volunteer

Over the next eight weeks, trainers armed me with a canny array of skills for guiding people through a moment of crisis. The focus was on helping people shift from the heat of despair or upset to a place of cool and calm. The list of potential issues we could expect to encounter was formidable, among them suicide, self-harm, sexual abuse, LGBT bullying, eating disorders and homelessness.

No matter what the crisis, the Crisis Text Line approach was clear: you’re not here to solve people’s problems. Rather, you’re here to listen to them, to validate their pain, to remind them of their strengths, then to work with them collaboratively to identify a goal that will help them to keep moving in a positive direction when the texting conversation (convo, in crisis counseling lingo) ends.

In a nutshell, the text line was offering training for a skill that I hadn’t realized could be taught or enhanced: empathy. Armed with a particular style of questioning and response, it was possible to guide texters away from feelings of extreme distress. The hotline’s data backed that up: while some 70 percent of callers open conversations with dire statements (“I’ve lost the will to live,” “Suicidal feelings,” “I’m overwhelmed and want to die”), only 1 percent require intervention to halt a suicide attempt.

Six months later as I near the 100-convo mark, texters who write, “I’m trying not to cut myself,” no longer throw me. (Tip: Try drawing on your skin with a red marker, then tracing the lines with an ice cube. It “bleeds.”) I’ve yet to encounter any of the one-percenters (roughly 10 texters a day) at imminent risk of taking their lives. But I’ve shared the joy of other counselors who, in collaboration with a supervisor, have mounted successful rescues by tapping into local resources.

A Satisfying Experience

The Crisis Text Line platform is mindful of how intense these conversations can be for volunteers. Though everything is done online and I work from home, supervisors are always available to guide. And there is a chat room counselors can turn to for instant advice from other on-duty counselors while handling a difficult conversation.

In another chat room, counselors can take a breather. There, the messages are always supportive and lively. Given that 77 percent of the hotline’s 2,800 active counselors are between the ages of 18 and 35, favored discussion topics run toward cats, holiday plans and grad school applications.

For the 117 crisis counselors who are over age 55, such dialogue offers a delightful window on Millennial interests and preoccupations. The actual crisis conversations provide a sobering window on the stresses young people face today. “Volunteers over age 55 make exceptional crisis counselors,” Lublin said via email. “Through lived experience, they are (not surprisingly!) committed, highly empathetic and strong active listeners.”

As I pass the halfway mark of my first year as a volunteer (at year one, I get a text line sweatshirt. Woohoo!), I feel that it was well worth the hunt to find a volunteer experience that engages my heart, mind and skills. If you, too, are seeking a satisfying volunteer activity, please trust there are people and causes out there that need your time and experience. Just be forewarned: it may take some trial and error to find what you’re looking for.

 

Write Down Those Special Grandparent Moments

How to keep a journal or blog so you can both share memories
By Patricia Corrigan for Next Avenue

So many boomers are finding delight in nurturing grandchildren — and most of us also are amazed that they do grow up quickly. That rarely seemed the case when we were bringing up our own kids.

A traditional baby book stuffed with baby shower napkins, pink or blue ribbons and photos seems a bit outdated in this digital age, though many of us do make them for our grandchildren.

Another option is a journal.

You can write it on the computer and call it a blog, or on paper and call it a diary. Either way, recording special moments will help you recall every heartfelt emotion from the early days, months or years — depending on long you keep writing. Plus, you will have something meaningful to share with your grandchild when he or she is old enough.

It’s easy. You write what you want, long or short, and you write when you want. The idea is to preserve those moments that touch your heart. There are no deadlines, no required lengths, and no need to fret over spelling or grammar. This is just you, talking on paper or typing up your thoughts.

How to Begin

On the day in 2011 that I learned my daughter-in-law was pregnant, I started an online journal called “OH BOY! OH BOY! A Blog for My Grandson.” I added entries right up until his first birthday.

So what did I write about?

The news of the impending birth, the responses to that news from family and friends and even a sampling of the names we expectant grandparents hoped the baby would call us once he arrived and learned to speak.

I made a note when one of Max’s grandmas-to-be (he has three, lucky boy) first bought baby clothes. She sent me an email that read, “I’m going to send the kids a couple of them, but also hang one up on the living room wall to remind me of him coming. Fun, fun, fun!”

In the blog, I wrote that when I put these new items on the top shelf of the closet, I found not one, but two sock monkey dolls, purchased a few years earlier just in case I ever had a grandchild. In a later post, I dutifully recorded the history of sock monkey dolls.

Of course, I did my share of shopping too. Recreational shopping takes on an extra kick when a grandbaby is on the way! My first purchases were a blue hooded sweatshirt, size 6 months, and teensy tie-dye socks.

Include Warm Wishes from Others

I want Max to know that even people beyond his immediate family cared about him before he arrived, so I copied some emails from friends into the blog.

This came from my friend Carolyn: “What a lucky grandson he will be. He’ll learn the history of Ireland. He’ll learn about oceans. He’ll learn about whales. He’ll have all sorts of children’s books. I’m thinking he’s going to be brilliant!”

One day, I wrote about all the places we might go together: “We can go to the Galapagos when you are 7. Can’t wait for you to meet the marine iguanas! We can go whale watching at the Farallon Islands when you are 10. We can go to San Francisco Giants’ games whenever we feel like it. The California Academy of Sciences, the world-class art museums, the playgrounds — it’s all waiting for us. We’ll go and do and marvel at the world together!”

That day, clearly I was in Grandma-as-Auntie-Mame mode.

On the day of the baby shower, I showed up with a normal gift, but I also brought some of my son’s baby blankets and a few tiny outfits of his that I’d saved all these years — freshly washed, of course. In the blog, I recorded all that, to provide a “you-were-there” moment, along with warm wishes from people at the party.

A few weeks before the baby was due, I wrote this: “We toasted you at Thanksgiving. We spoke of you on Christmas Eve. We toasted you at Christmas dinner. At each event, we were hyper-aware that you will be among us soon. I imagine myself holding you, looking into your eyes. I imagine us becoming quite close. In some ways, you are the person I have been waiting to meet for a long time. I look forward to loving you.”

What older children wouldn’t want to read something like that about their impending arrival?

Report on the Birth and the First Days

Of course I wrote about The Phone Call from my son, saying the baby was here and mom and baby were both well. I also compiled a short list of famous people born the same day. And here is what I reported after my first meeting with Max:

“What an amazing moment. You — and me. For the first time. You were all bundled up in a blanket and had on a tiny hat that made your right ear fold over. At some point — I think when I moved you from my left arm to my right — your blanket shifted and out popped your tiny right hand, with long slender fingers. I touched your hand with my index finger — and you grabbed it. Yep — we are in this together, for the long haul.”

I made a list of visitors who came to see Max at the hospital and in the following months, once he was home. When he was three months old, I recorded a moment of grace: “Time and time again — as recently as yesterday afternoon — I held you while you slept. Sometimes rocking, sometimes sitting still, sometimes patting your back or arm or leg, sometimes just studying your beautiful face, I held you as you slept. What a remarkable gift.”

Write What Your Heart Tells You

You get the idea. Inspiration for this project came from one of Max’s grandmas. “Put together a blog about this journey for him to enjoy when he’s older,” she said. Looking back, I am so glad I listened!

And I think it’s great advice for anyone bubbling over with joy before or after the big event. Again, it’s easy. You just record your thoughts and feelings about the great gift that is the birth of a grandchild.

You write it down now so you can relive it all later, together.


© Twin Cities Public Television - 2017. All rights reserved.



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Why I Call My Dad Even if It's Not Father's Day

My phone calls to him used to be obligatory, but loss has a way of changing things

By Jill Smolowe for Next Avenue

Jill Smolowe with her father

When I was a college undergraduate, I used to call my parents every Thursday night. The calls were mandatory, the price of college tuition, so to speak. Invariably, my mother would answer, then yell, “Dick! Pick up! It’s Jill.”

Nothing of substance was ever said about my coursework. And certainly I wasn’t going to tell them who I was sleeping with or what I was smoking. So, I remember not one thing about these phone calls beyond this: both of my parents were on the line, I was itchy to get off so I could get back to my life and any parental input pretty much came from my mother.

Our No-Obligation Daily Phone Call

On Father’s Day this year, I, like millions of Americans, will call my dad. But there will be nothing dutiful or obligatory about it. These days, I speak with my father daily. Sometimes I dial his speed number; just as often, he dials mine. Often the conversation begins, “Hi, I can’t remember if we talked today.” We laugh. Then we talk, whether we’ve already talked earlier in the day or not. These conversations are never obligatory and most definitely are never a chore.

To the contrary, I can’t imagine a day going by without speaking to my dad. (Well, unless he’s traveling. He and cell phones — fuggedaboutit.) I talk with him not because I feel I have to, but because I want to. At this point, he’s not just my father. He’s my financial adviser. My friend. The one person in the universe, other than my husband, with whom I touch base daily. I know the details of my father’s days; he knows the details of mine. At 60, I find my relationship with my father widening, our intimacy deepening, our love (always solid) developing still new layers.

Some days, we talk about the markets and dividend reinvesting. Other days, we discuss news developments: the Syrian refugee crisis, Putin’s latest maneuvering, the U.S. presidential campaign. The only topic I try to steer wide of is Israel. (Generational differences. It never ends happily.) All days, we discuss the weather, but only briefly.

How Dad Dazzles Me

Some days, he dazzles me. Last November, for instance, I dropped him at the airport at 6 p.m. for a 9:44 p.m. flight. (He has this thing about getting to airports waaay early.) He was heading home after a visit and should have been walking through his front door at 1 a.m. Instead, when I phoned the next day at 11 a.m., he greeted me with, “I just got home.” Plane problems, followed by flight reschedulings the airline didn’t sort out until after midnight, had resulted in my dad spending the night on a couch in a food court. The guy is 85!

Did he tell me about his aches or the airport chaos? No. Instead, the guy who used to run a women’s apparel business said this about his ordeal: “It made me think about the refugees. All that trekking. This was not planned, very disruptive. I wanted to get back home. Think of those people, losing their homes, their countries, then landing in countries that don’t want them. It rocked me.”

My Rock During Tough Times

These days, we also discuss our personal lives — sometimes in intimate detail. My two brothers and I joke, “TMI.” But for me, actually, there is no too-much-information when it comes to the man we all call Big D. That barrier began to crumble in 2007 after my husband, Joe, was diagnosed with leukemia.

At the time, I was spending long days at the hospital, then coming home to a barrage of voicemail messages I was too exhausted to handle. I needed someone who could relay the day’s medical developments to other family members. My father was hardly the obvious choice, given his family standing as the “ostrich,” my mother’s term for his tendency to put his head in the sand when emotional stuff kicked up. But I knew my father to be a succinct and reliable communicator. I could count on him to relay the often-complicated medical details to my mother and three siblings without spin or distortion.

As the weeks, then months, went by, I realized that I’d come to rely on Dad as my sounding board. He never tried to steer my thinking on difficult medical decisions. Rather, he helped guide me back to information I’d given him previously that might help inform whatever decision Joe and I were facing.

After Joe died in June 2009, I haven’t a clue how frequently I spoke with my father. That period, frankly, was too much of a blur. Certainly, there was an uptick in our phone calls come the turn of 2010. My sister was dying from colon cancer up in Vermont; my mother was dying from age-related complications down in North Carolina. It was, to put it mildly, a very bad time. My touching base with my father, him touching base with me, helped steady both of us.

It was after my sister died in August of that year, followed less than three weeks later by my mother, that I began to call my father daily. Initially I called because I was concerned how he was weathering widowerhood. But in short order, self-imposed obligation became habit became a genuine desire to hear his voice and his thoughts each day, every day.

Our Intimate Relationship, After All These Years

By this time, I’d met online the man who would become my second husband. I wanted my father to venture into the cyber-dating world, too. My mother had pounded him with the message that he should look for a new mate quickly. She did not want him to be alone. Neither did I.

And so, our conversations took a more intimate turn as I helped my father sign up on the same two cyber dating sites I’d used. As he began to venture out, meeting not-Mom women for the first time in some 60 years, he could sound like a giddy schoolboy with his (OK, sometimes TMI) stories.

I’ve loved seeing this social being emerge. And I love the intimacy that has evolved between us as a result. At times, I find myself telling him things I haven’t shared with even my closest female friends. It’s so unexpected. So trusting. So lovely.

Next month, my dad turns 86. He exercises daily, eats a healthy diet and has all his faculties. But I am very aware that he is aging. Very aware that he is slowing down. Very aware that there will come a day when he will not be there to receive a Father’s Day call. I am also keenly aware that I am not at all prepared for this. Every time he doesn’t feel well (which isn’t often), a mantra begins in my head: “I’m not ready for him to go.”

How can I be? At this point in my life, this amazing man is not only my father. He is my friend. My adviser. My ear. My shoulder. My witness. For that, I not only love him. I adore him.

Happy Father’s Day, Big D. I am so grateful you’re my dad.
© Twin Cities Public Television - 2017. All rights reserved.

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For a Happier Holiday, Host a Family Sing-Along

5 great reasons to make music together this season
By Susan Darrow for Next Avenue

Credit: Thinkstock

This time of year, music often plays a big role in many people’s lives. School concerts,

religious choir performances, seasonal community events, holiday hits on the radio — all offer abundant opportunities to take advantage of the benefits of music for any age.

Since the magic of music is shining exceptionally bright now, this is a great time to encourage your family to use these opportunities as a springboard for making music throughout the year. Music can help families on many levels. It promotes development in babies and young children; bonds families across generations and stimulates areas of the brain involved with motivation, reward and emotion. Making, or listening to, music can actually result in increased levels of dopamine, a neurotransmitter that stimulates the brain’s reward system.

Here are five reasons to make music with your family this holiday season

:
1. Music-making is beneficial to development.

Music stimulates social, physical, cognitive and emotional development and promotes language and concentration skills, confidence and self-esteem. During the early years, active engagement with music promotes brain development and naturally supports growth essential to life and learning, as well as increasing the bond between children and their caregivers.

It’s easy to get started making music with children during the holidays: Sing your favorite carols in the car, dance to holiday songs or take children to a holiday concert or musical. A 2014 Harris Poll commissioned by the early-child music program Music Together (where I’m the CEO) revealed that only 17 percent of parents sing to their child daily. Music development is similar to language development. Imagine if parents only talked to their children once a day!

We teach children language by continuously talking and reading to them. Similarly, the best thing parents and grandparents can do to support musical growth is to sing and dance with their children and grandchildren as often as possible.

A growing body of research shows that participating in the arts promotes health and well being in older adults, too.

2. Music helps us create and recall powerful memories.

Music can spark the recall of lovely past experiences. It helps the past “come alive,” giving us access to deep feelings as we remember an event or moment. Singing while you decorate the tree, at a holiday party or at a religious celebration can help form memories and bonds with extended family and friends that will be recalled for years to come.

3. Music relieves stress.

The holidays, while joyful, can also be stressful. Singing can actually relieve stress. Studies show that singing has the ability to slow our pulse and heart rate, lower our blood pressure and decrease the levels of stress hormone in our bodies.

So, play music in the car while navigating the mall parking lot or sing along to a holiday recording while getting ready for company. It will help you stay calm and, most importantly, model for the children in your life a healthy way to deal with stress.

4. Music connects us.

The holidays can be lonely for some people. Singing, especially in groups, can relieve this loneliness by connecting us to others in ways that no other activity can. Recent research indicates that music-making as a shared experience can activate and synchronize similar neural connections in all those participating. This synchronization can result in feelings of empathy and shared intention that can promote positive social interaction and bonding.

When you sing with others this holiday season, whether during a religious service, at a community event or at a family gathering, everyone benefits.

5. Singing is intergenerational.

Music is an ageless way to connect with younger and older relatives and create ties between the youngest and oldest family members. Plus, music supports the aging processes. In later years, participating in music activities helps keep the brain active and engaged and supports us physically, socially and emotionally.

Sharing memories of holiday music-making and teaching those songs to younger generations can be joyous for both the older storytellers and the family members who are listening and forming new, pleasurable memories.

© Twin Cities Public Television - 2016. All rights reserved.



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3 Reasons Boomers Should Play Pokémon Go

Millennials have gravitated to this app, but it's not just for the Snapchat set

By Amy Knapp for Next Avenue

Credit: theverge.com

The Pokémon Go smartphone app was released in the U.S. less than a week ago, and — Millennial that I am — I’ve found myself immersed in the “Poké cult.” I have hunted, captured, evolved and battled with the rest of them. I have chosen a team and found myself walking in places at times that are out of the ordinary for me. I can also proudly claim that I have 54 Pokémon in my Pokédex. Although it may seem as though this new sensation is aimed at Millennials, I have some advice to boomers: Give it a shot.

What Is It?

But first, what is Pokémon Go?

It’s a location-based augmented reality game, developed by Niantic, that lets you explore your neighborhood and beyond — using your GPS and camera — to capture hundreds of different Pokémon. They can be pretty much anywhere — in your lakes, in the park or at your local gym, for example.

According to an article published by Forbes on July 11, market intelligence firm Sensor Tower estimates that the game has been downloaded more than 7.5 million times, and has earned Niantic $1.6 million daily revenue. That was two days ago. Not bad for an app that’s still poking around to find its legs.

The app’s makers, in fact, are still working out some kinks. Users have complained about problems such as a failure to fully upload the app and glitches that can cause the screen to freeze. Perhaps a bigger concern, Pokémon are showing up in places where they aren’t welcome and are sometimes wholly inappropriate.

The New York Times article reported that Pokémon have been showing up at the Auschwitz memorial in Poland, the United States Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C., and the National September 11 Memorial in New York, for instance.

Not Just Nostalgia

For Millennials, Pokémon are nostalgic, a reminder of childhood days spent watching Ash Ketchum catch and battle various Pokémon in the animated television series Pokémon; the collectible trading card game and the Gameboy video games. And the sensation that hit in the ’90s is still going strong, and not just because of the new app. Today’s elementary schoolchildren still trade Pokémon cards and play video games — and the app has only increased interest.

So why should a boomer care about this craze?

Well, for starters, it’s free. So what have you got to lose?

But the first real reason is that it’s good exercise. One of the major benefits of this game is that you get lots of steps when you play. In order to “catch ’em all,” users have to get out and go exploring. Many articles, including this one from Minnesota Public Radio, have pointed out that this app is getting some people up off the couch. (For those of you who are already walking plenty, keep up the good work!)

The second reason is it’s a great way to meet and connect with people. Once you start playing, you’ll find yourself talking to others from all walks of life who are also hunting for Pokémon. You might even make a new friend.

And the third reason is it’s a great way to connect with grandchildren and other kids in your life. Ask them what level they are, how many Pokémon they have captured and if they would like to hunt for Pokémon with you. All you have to do is download the app on your smartphone.

How Do I Play?

The game is simple and easy for users of any age. The point is to collect various types of Pokémon by exploring your surroundings. Once you download the app on your mobile device, you sign in and create a character (the options are limited, so it takes only minutes to set up). Then you can begin the hunt.

Start walking and you will see your surroundings on the screen. As you move about, you will come across Pokémon that you can capture. To do so, click on the Pokémon, wait for a little red-and-white ball (a Pokéball) to appear. Catch the Pokémon by throwing the ball at it. To do this, you hold your finger on the ball, swipe up and release. If the ball hits the creature, it is caught and added to your Pokédex.

The Pokémon have various levels of strength. As you get more involved in the game, you may want to trade weaker Pokémon and evolve them into stronger ones.

The higher level they are, the better you will do in nearby PokéGyms, which are action-packed hubs for players superimposed on real-world landmarks. There are also Pokéstops, where you can pick up free items that will help you obtain more of the creatures. If you feel that battling in the PokéGyms isn’t quite your speed, fear not. You can continue evolving your characters by simply walking around.

And if the game still seems a little confusing, ask the nearest kid how to play.

© Twin Cities Public Television - 2016. All rights reserved.



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