Memento Mori

"Let us prepare our minds as if we'd come to the very end of life. Let us postpone nothing. Let us balance life's books each day.... The one who puts the finishing touches on their life each day is never short of time." --Seneca 

Caveat: This post involves a discussion of death. If you are sensitive about this topic, or you feel it is “too morbid” (as Mom used to say)—then all the more reason for you to read on.

Spoiler alert: We’re all going to die. I mean, seriously, folks; no one gets out alive.

Well, Boomers, it’s been a good run. We had the Beatles (or, if you prefer, the Stones), the sexual revolution, the signing of the Civil Rights Act, and we watched a man walk on the moon. We witnessed the end of apartheid in South Africa. We learned how to use computers so we could forward funny emails and see photos of our grandkids on Facebook. We were dragged into using smart phones—but now we never put them down so we can post even more pictures of our grandkids—and our pets, who are now our “babies”—on Facebook (and, if we’re still learning, on Twitter and Instagram). We can now embrace our gay and transgender friends in public, and we can happily introduce them as “married” or whatever. We elected a President of African descent.

On the flip side (for those of you unfamiliar with the term, it has to do with turning over a vinyl record), we participated in global warming. We struggled through the Vietnam War era, whether we agreed or disagreed with that military action. We saw heroes like Martin Luther King, Jr. (and many, many others) shot down (or lynched or beaten) for their stand against injustice. We witnessed the horror of September 11, 2001. (Just writing that sentence brought tears to my eyes.)

And now this. Medical authorities are still gathering data and creating statistical models, but at this point it looks like, if you’re my age, 1 in 10 of you will die if you are infected with COVID-19. Your risk is higher than the general population if you have “underlying respiratory issues.”

And, Boomers, who doesn’t? We’ve got asthma, COPD, emphysema, and, in my case, bronchiectasis from all those cigarettes we smoked and joints we passed around. (Well, not in my case; I’m a non-smoker who, to this date, has still never taken a toke from a doobie, but I do have congenital bronchiectasis.)

So, my question is, what are you doing while you’re waiting to die? Just sitting there? Wringing your hands and worrying that you’re next in line for the Grim Reaper’s knock at the door?

Stop. Stop it right now. Okay, go wash your hands thoroughly then come back.

Feel better? Good. Now make a plan.

Is your will up to date? If not, get ‘er done today.

Have you written out plans for your demise? (Do Not Resuscitate! Play James Taylor songs at my memorial service. Spread my ashes in Missouri. Whatever you do, don’t take Thomas off of Science Diet dog food!)

Speaking of pets: I’ve written out instructions as to how to feed my crew. My son (bless him!) has promised to come from Ohio and stay in my house and care for “my fur babies” should I need to be hospitalized.

Which reminds me: I need to leave instructions on how to pay the rent.

And, hey kids! All my log-in passwords are in the…. Oh wait. I’d better tell them that privately.

With all of those instructions laid out, what is left for you to ‘balance life’s books’? Where do you need to add the “finishing touches”? We are all going to transition eventually. Let’s don’t leave a tangled mess for our kids to sort through.

That was a lesson I learned from my mom. In the months before her death—even though she wasn’t sick—she took me and my brother aside to explain her finances, her life insurance policies, and the pre-paid plans for her cremation and memorial services. What a relief and a blessing it was that, in our grief, few decisions had to be made.

I’m kicking myself now for not pre-paying my cremation. Sorry, kids. Take it out of my bank account.

Last week, our biggest problem was finding toilet paper. This week, our biggest problem has been finding food. Next week, our greatest sorrow will be when our friends or family members become ill or pass away, and we cannot be with them to comfort them or say good-bye. (Which is another point taken; start saying your I love yous to everyone now.)

Grief will shut us down quick, make no mistake about that.

In the meantime, keep moving forward. Here, I’ll leave you with a quote from another one of our heroes, Sylvester Stallone:

“You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain’t about how hard you hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward….”

PS: I love you.

Devotional

Brothers and Sisters and Non-binary friends, our devotional reading this morning is from the book of Dune, by Frank Herbert:

"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone, there will be nothing. Only I remain."

Take one long breath, my friends, and try to experience the absence of fear. As Mama used to say, "This too, shall pass."

Remember: We fear what we do not know. We cannot see the future right now, so we fear what it might bring.

But we do have this moment in the present to shrug off the fear--even if just for a few brief moments of peace.

We can consciously choose to stop focusing on What if... What if... What if... and celebrate What is.

In this moment, all my children, and all my grandchildren, are well and healthy. I am grateful.

In this moment, I have food for the day and for tomorrow and for the week ahead, and I am grateful.

I even have a couple more rolls of toilet paper. Gratitude!!

I will endeavor today to focus away from what "might be bad" in the coming days, and turn my focus in another direction, perhaps toward one person I can help or reach out to with love.

We could all use a bit more love, a bit more kindness, a bit more comfort. And if that means giving a roll of toilet paper to an elderly neighbor because he or she or they are frightened to go out, I hope I'm willing to make that sacrifice. I hope we all are. I think we will be.

In these times, I always see the best of us.

Nomenclature

Last month at my book club meeting, we discussed the sweeping historical novel, Moloka'i, which chronicles the treatment of Hansen's disease victims in Hawaii across the Twentieth Century. At one point our moderator asked, "Who were your favorite characters in the novel?" and the gentleman sitting next to me replied, "I really liked Liliana, the hermaphrodite."

For a quick second, I wondered whether we'd read the same novel. There is no character named Liliana in Moloka'i, and there is no hermaphrodite. Then it dawned on me which character he was referring to.

I turned to him quietly and said, "I think you mean Leilani--"

"Oh, right, Leilani," he corrected himself

"--and she's transgender," I told him.

"Oh, well, whatever, I can't keep up with all the current names for things."

There quickly ensued a lively conversation among the group members about hermaphrodites, why Leilani was one (because she was born a man but prayed for breasts and finally got them as a result of her disease), and what modern-day parents do when faced with the birth of a child who is a hermaphrodite.

While all of this transpired, I simply sat in stunned silence.

Sometimes I assume that the fundamental knowledge I have about the world around me is the same fundamental knowledge shared by everyone in my age group. On more than one occasion, it has been pointed out to me that I am profoundly naive in this assumption.

So, for the sake of clarification, my fellow Boomers, here is a glossary of sorts that you might find helpful if you're unfamiliar with the "current names for things."

Hermaphrodite: A person born with both male and female reproductive organs. We now call these individuals "intersex" persons. In the olden days, parents were told by doctors to choose a gender for their newborn infant. Surgeries would eventually be performed to "correct" the anomalies of the gender not chosen. Thank heavens we are far, far beyond that now. (And no, "Leilani" in Moloka'i is not a hermaphrodite. And yes, I did eventually speak up in my group and share this.)

Binary:  Either/Or; an individual who identifies as completely female or male. Sidenote: If your gender identity matches the sex you were "assigned" at birth, you are "cisgender" or "cissexual," more commonly seen now as simply "cis man" or "cis woman."

Non-binary: Individuals who don't identify entirely as one or the other (male or female). Other current terms for this are genderqueer, agender and bigender.

Transgender:  A person whose gender does not correspond with the sex they were assigned at birth. If you struggle to understand how this could possibly be, how a person born a "female" could grow up thinking, "But... I'm a guy," or vice versa, I strongly recommend you head over to Youtube and put "Transgender" in the search bar, then scroll through the many, many videos depicting explanations and/or stories of "trans" individuals. Years ago, when I sought out Youtube for the right words to enlighten some of my questioning students, there were a half dozen or so videos on the subject. Now, there are, well, lots and lots. Click on these highlighted words for a brief video that might help explain the neuroscience of being transgender.

Gender Affirmation Surgery: Previously known as SRS--Sex Reassignment Surgery--this is what occurs when, say, my friend Lee decides he is tired of walking around with breasts when he is clearly male and has felt male all his life, and now especially feels male after taking medication for some time to suppress the estrogen the ovaries in his body produce and replace it with testosterone, so he opts to have his breasts removed (and possibly his uterus and ovaries) so that his body image matches his identity--and, by the way, matches his new drivers license, which now shows his gender as male. It's much easier for him to flow through airport security these days, let me tell you.

Why is this all so important? Why do I feel the need to educate my cohorts on proper nomenclature for my transgender friends? Because names matter.

Names. Matter.

We use derogatory names for those we fear, judge, or ostracize.

My fellow Boomers, let us reflect for a brief moment upon the 1950's and 1960's of our youth. What did we call gay people? Yep, just take a minute and recall all those names you heard in school or possibly at home. (I didn't, thank goodness. My mom had gay friends all her life, and never made a big deal about anyone loving someone of the same sex. Yay, Mom!)

And what did we call Japanese people in the '50's (because they were "the enemy" during WWII)? Or Black people? Or Hispanic people, especially if they weren't born here? Mm hmm.

Names. Matter.

Odd to think now, isn't it, that referring to someone as "gay" was a difficult transition for some folks. But now you wouldn't think of calling your gay friends, neighbors, or family members "fags" or "dykes" or whatever, would you? Of course not.

As our world and our world view continue to expand with new information and new insight, let us also expand our vocabulary as needed.

Ya dig? Groovy. Peace, brothers and sisters (and those who identify as non-binary)!