Hospice and Me

I'm starting 2012 with a new venture. I've decided to volunteer with the Hospice organization here in Central New York. Today I had an interview with the volunteer coordinator, I guess to see if I was qualified. I was a little nervous...what are the appropriate qualifications for a hospice volunteer?  would I be found acceptable?  I figured they would ask why I was interested in doing this and had given my answer some thought. It required thought, because I wasn't exactly sure myself.  Here are the elements that went into my decision:
1. I study gerontology and the health of older people. Although I do this in a very detached, abstract way, I've become increasingly interested in "real people." Maybe because I'm getting older myself?
2. I've been deeply influenced by the stories I hear from others in my Brookdale network--about their direct care experiences and how those experiences have influenced their lifes and research.
3. My weekly lunches with my retired colleague have shown me the value, for both of us, in having someone friendly with whom to have lunch, visit, and talk.
4. I think every person has a right to be cared for and cared about. I think we owe each other that attention.
5. I feel like I am someone who is good in difficult situations, in crises. I think I have a cool head and can be a stabilizing influence in some situations.

Another reason, that I didn't mention in the interview, is that I feel I am increasingly interested in having connections with people, having meaningful relationships.  I doubt that any individual hospice experience will provide that, but over time I think the cumulation of experiences will be valuable.  I think it is part of my new spiritual sense of the connectedness of people.

I guess I passed the interview, though, because the coordinator told me that going through their regular 8 weeks of volunteer training would be a waste of my time. Instead, she and I will meet a few times and go over some of the basics and then they will turn me loose.

Some things I learned about hospice today.  Hospice is required to have volunteers. When the legislation authorizing Medicare coverage for hospice care was passed it included a provision that Hospice organizations must include volunteers. There is a certain percentage of their hours of care that must be provided by volunteers.  The other thing, that I sort of knew, but was interested to hear was that 35% of the patients admitted to hospice are in hospice care for less than a week.

So, look for regular updates...

Objectivity

In the last week I've come across different references to the idea of "objectivity" in social science research. Not that I haven't thought about it before, but now I'm thinking about it again.....First, I was listening to a researcher talk about segregation in a midwestern city.  Her research started with a photograph taken in the 1970s of young teens on a porch. The group of about 15 consisted of black boys and white girls. The researcher was one of those in the photograph and her goal was to tell the story of racial divides by tracing the life trajectories of those youths.  It was an interesting approach and story.  Inevitably the question was asked about her "objectivity" in the research, since she was part of the group.  In the following discussion the term "strong objectivity" was used.  This idea, advanced by Sandra Harding, argues that true objectivity (or neutrality) does not exist.  Instead, recognizing our own role in the research actually strengthens, rather than weakens, concepts of objectivity.  By overtly recognizing our own biases in the research process can we come closer to "reality."  Bringing biases and background to the front of the research process maximizes objectivity.

With my mind primed for thinking about "objectivity" I listened to another scholar discuss experiences of the new South migration of blacks in the US.  She focused, for this talk, on their perceptions of racism in the North and South. Here the term "objective reality" came up in questions. How did her subjects perceptions compare to reality?  One of her answers, which I liked, was that "reality" was sometimes less important than perceptions in shaping behavior (actually it is probably more often important....)  So, objective reality exists whether you believe or not...does that imply some underlying "true" facts?  Of course, the cultural relativists would say no, that reality is different depending on your standpoint (Harding is a standpoint theorist).  Can we reconcile these ideas?

A Place

I have a new scheme to make my millions...I'll make a place where people can go at night when it is too hard to be where they are.  After all, where can you go at 2 am?

I imagine it with two rooms. One would have a fireplace and soft couches with old quilts. You could have hot chocolate or tea and little cookies, nothing too fancy or filling.  The mugs of hot chocolate would be the big ones you could wrap your hands around and the cookies would be on little silver trays.  They would just be there, magically.

The other room would have a little pool with a quiet waterfall and a starry sky painted on the ceiling--or maybe a glass roof open to the night sky.  On stormy nights the rain would patter down and when there was a full moon the whole room would shine and glow in moonlight. It would be warm and a little humid, like a greenhouse.  It would smell like grass, flowers and dirt. There would be comfortable chaisse lounges, or maybe hammocks, with light cotton blankets.

The place would only be open from midnight to 7 am. There would be no talking allowed, not even any music. Just quiet. You could sleep or not (but no snoring). Anybody who was sad, or scared, or tired could come and curl up and rest.

Grandmother Hypothesis

I was reminded today of the "grandmother hypothesis."  I was listening to a conference session on aging and lifespan...why do we age, or, conversely, why do we live so long? Speakers went through lots of biology, a little evolution, some religion and philosophy, and touched on the grandmother hypothesis.

Advanced by anthropologist Kristen Hawkes, the hypothesis is that women live to be grandmothers so that they can support their daughters and grandchildren.  It is an evolutionary advantage. One of the speakers pointed out that having big brains makes human births dangerous.  So, maternal mortality is relatively high. In addition, since kids have to be born with their brains only about half the size of a mature brain, kids need to be protected and nurtured for a long period of time. Rather than relying on their male partners, women rely on their mothers (or other female relatives) for support.  End result: longer longevity for women.

Not sure if I agree with the whole packeage, but I like the idea of grandmas being important.

A Good Strong Story

Well, I'm in a talkative mood, aren't I?  Guess it is all the thinking about stories...makes me want to tell one.  Today I ran across a term that is tugging at me...A Good Strong Story (AGSS).  I take no credit for this, a scholar named William Randall used it in a presentation on Irony and Resilience in later life.

So, what are the qualities of AGSS?  He likened it to a spreading oak, with branches, roots, and the ability to bend in the wind (although perhaps not too strong of a wind.)  AGSS is broad not narrow, thick not thin, open not closed.  AGSS extends both within us and beyond us. He talked about the need to have a story that was not limiting, but was open to multiple readings of our life events.

One idea I particularly liked, though, was that AGSS is characteized by both irony and wonder. Narrative reflection can foster a sense of ironic awareness.  Irony is edgy. Dramatic irony functions because there is a disparity between the viewpoints of the teller and the audience.  As we tell our life story we are both author and audience, we are characters and narrators, we are teller and audience.

A good life story also shows openness to change and to a tolerance for ambiguity, it is an open story, one that while reflecting on the past propels us into the future.  Most importantly, we shouldn't wait until we are old to tell a Good Strong Story.

Grand narratives

This morning I attended a session on Narrative Gerontology (passing by my usual menu choice of "trends in active life expectancy"). Dominated by English and psychology professors, the presentations were much more philosophical than my usual conference fare.

I was particularly entranced by one speaker, Mark Freeman, who described his mother's decline in dementia and his struggle to write about it. As a narrative psychologist, his academic interest is in how we talk about our lives and now he finds himself unable to construct a narrative for his mother's decline. Lately he has been involved, it seems, in a controversy over the relevance of "big stories" versus "small stories." The main problem, as I understand it, is that some argue that small stories, the everyday narrative interactions in which we engage, are better indicators of reality than the grand narratives, the life stories, we construct over time. The small story camp argues that the life story process, with its attempt to construct and create coherence, produces not true identity, but some manufactured sense of what a self-identity should be. Freeman says that it is precisely the distance from events that allows a person to truly understand the meaning of an event. Big stories aren't better or truer, they are different. He uses the term "life on holiday" to talk about the value of time for reflection and reconsideration. We do things differently on a holiday, and that difference is good.

I'm thinking about this...

Remembering

I'm in Boston, at the meetings of the Gerontological Society of America...haven't been to these meetings for exactly 6 years.  About this time six years ago I was hearing the news that my mother was dying. Being here brings back many memories. 

I have a friend who is losing his memories, slowly and inexorably. The objective part of me is fascinated by the way in which his memory and our conversations have changed, and how his functioning varies from week to week. He is clearly increasingly confused about place and time. Within the course of a conversation his wife may be his mother, his sister becomes his daughter. His parents might be alive or not. He may be 69 or 79. We might be friends, or colleagues or strangers.

I suppose because we started together recording his life stories, and also because the way in which dementia works "backwards" on memories, his conversations with me are dominated by events from his childhood. I have heard the same stories virtually every week for well over a year. What seems interesting though, is how some of the detail has been lost over time, the stories are shorter, less coherent, more jumbled in time and place. Some stories seem to have disappeared. I'm fascinated, too, by the stories that were never there--never anything about meeting his wife, about their early life, their kids as children. But, also, there is less reflection in the stories now, less thought attached to them. Still, they seem to represent good things in his life, happy memories, warm feelings. Telling most of them makes him happy. It makes me think that with the passage of time all of these events are being boiled down to their bare essence, to the emotions linked to them. They aren't about events or people anymore, they are about recapturing a feeling, a state of being.

Can we boil our life down to a few simple memories, a few feelings?

Protective

Was bowling with the boys over the weekend. After putting on his shoes and choosing a ball, my 20 year old bent down to roll up the bottom of his jeans which were dragging a bit on the floor.  "Good,"  I commented, "that was making me a little nervous."  He smiled, shook his head, and said, "Protective Mom."  I was slightly offended and remarked, a bit defensively, "I don't think I'm over protective."  Laughingly he corrected me, "I didn't say OVER protective, Mom, just 'protective'."

I was never a really anxious mother. I didn't hover.  I let the kids have a pretty free rein.  They ran, climbed, jumped, catapulted, and somersaulted. One spent about 6 months with a bruise in the middle of his forehead as a toddler because he fell so often. The other climbed into the kitchen sink before he could walk.  I didn't worry too much about grades or schoolwork, about the number of hours spent watching TV or playing video games. I didn't monitor their friends very closely or supervise their playdates.  Not to say I was uninvolved. I volunteered in their classrooms, went on field trips, helped with school and Scout activities. I tried taking them to church.

But, I find that as they have grown, I worry more and more about them. I'm more nervous now to see them walking along a cliff edge than I was when they were 5. Is that a function of realizing my own mortality? That I won't always be around to help them? The hurts seem so much bigger as they grow older. It seems one thing to fail a spelling test, quite another to flunk out of college. You can fall off the monkey bars and break an arm, but a car crash can kill you. Not having a friend to play with at recess hurts, but ending an intimate relationship hurts more. I feel like there are so many more things that will hurt them now. Maybe as they grow closer to adulthood I am better able to relate to the hurts they are bound to experience, I know the pains of adulthood, they are fresh in my mind.

I have strong, resilient, and capable sons. They show no indication that they will be overwhelmed by life, that they will falter under pressure, or crumple in defeat. In fact, quite the opposite. Still, I think I will worry about them until the day I die.

It's been a while...

We've just passed through that dreaded part of the semester, the place where everything needs to be done NOW. The students are sick and tired, the instructors, too.  We are overwhelmed by papers, lectures, committee work, research deadlines, and conference presentations. But, that shouldn't be an excuse for not writing here. In fact, it should be a reason for writing.

I've never thought of myself as a "writer" and was shocked with my short-lived success as a blogger on salon.com.  I don't think I have the wit or stamina to keep up a regular writing schedule.  I often joke that I could never write an academic book, I don't have that many words in my head or fingers. 

But, I am fascinated with words and over the past few years I've learned a few new ones that I enjoy.

Apodictic: "Whether or not that 'memory' is veridical is probably impossible to determine, but its role in giving coherence and continuity to existence does not depend on the memory being apodictic."

Gnomic: "Mysterious and often incomprehensible yet seemingly wise.  My son found this in a novel and asked me about the meaning. My first response was that it must be related to gnomes, but we looked it up and loved the definition. Who would ever have thought of such a word?

Bricolage: French origins. It might loosely be translated as “tinkering” or “do it yourself.”  In French a bricoleur is a tinkerer.  It has this sense of creativity attached to it, of being able to make do with the things at hand.  In art it can refer to a type of mosaic or sculpture that uses a variety of objects. The term seeped into cultural studies, and refers to the use of an object for an unintended purpose. 

The word seems like a perfect term to describe my dad. He is able to fix anything and to creatively solve any problem.  I've always thought of him as a great example of a Rennaissance man--well versed in literature, history, religion and philosophy; plays the piano; can describe the finer details of steelmaking; can rebuild a car engine; and built our house.  I remember him telling me that when our washing machine broke he studied the electrical schematics and figured out what was wrong, that it never occurred to him that he could hire someone to fix it.  So, finding a fancy French word to describe him was fun.

Sounds of Silence

Growing up I was enamored with the Simon and Garfinkel song, Sounds of Silence. More and more, I've been thinking about quiet and silence, language and sound, music and noise.  The other day I caught only about 10 minutes of an interview with the author Don Campbell about his new book, "Healing at the Speed of Sound."  Later, I read some less than flattering reviews of his work, but some of the central questions and ideas have intrigued me.  One of the things he talked about was developing sound tracks for hospitals. How a different type of music would be used in an emergency room waiting room versus a surgery waiting room.  How a different type of music would be used at 3 am versus 3 pm. He also talked about the use of music to make transitions in your day, music to go home with, music to start your work day with.

When I'm working I do like to have some music in the background.  I used to only be able to sleep with some noise in the background, best would be talk radio, but music would help, too.  I blame in on sharing my childhood bedroom with two sisters. We would talk at night and I would ask them to tell me stories before I fell asleep. I was so conditioned to that sound, that I found it difficult to sleep in a quiet room. About 3 years ago that changed. I now like having quiet at night, I like the silence.  Why is that?  Is that an age related change or something else?

Campbell also talked about how we react differently to the same piece of music depending on the setting. The same song in a car is different than hearing it performed live. I do enjoy live music and find it so much more enriching than recorded music. Is it the sound, the setting, the spontaneity of the performance? I'm not sure.

I've been interested in how music might be used with people who are sick or suffering anguish in some other way.  Music can be soothing in times of stress or grief. I'm sure it can also be soothing in times of physical illness.  I read an article about Alzheimers recently that talked about the use of music in caring for AD sufferers.  How hearing music from a happy time in life could calm and soothe someone with memory problems. I wonder what music I would want to hear if I was losing my mind?

Missing Mary

When is the right age to start feeling nostalgic? I used to laugh when my sons, at ages 8 and 12, would reminisce about their “childhoods,” but at 54 can I legitimately feel nostalgic for mine?

I was at a Noel Paul Stookey/Peter Yarrow concert a few days ago and spent most of the evening with tears on my cheeks. Obviously, you can't get past the fact that one member of their group is missing and while she was lovingly acknowledged throughout, Mary's absence was felt in every song. I was never a big Mary fan, she always seemed just a little too much larger than life for me. The duet of Noel Paul and Peter is wonderful and not to be missed, but hearing the two of them without her was a bit like listening to a stereo song in mono.

They started the concert with an analogy of folk music as a train. They got on while the Weavers, Pete Seeger and others were singing their songs, and have been riding the train for 50 years. Others have gotten on behind them and the train will go on once they have gotten off. (Okay, they said it much more poetically and powerfully, but I liked the imagery of being a passenger on the journey of life.) The whole evening had a sense of a farewell tour. Peter is looking frail, and to watch Paul, who towers over him, tenderly guide him on and off stage with an arm around his shoulders was touching. Peter, to his credit, plays the part of the aging Jewish radical to the hilt—stumbling, bumbling, and spouting a Yiddish phrase here and there.

Seeing them together is partly like watching an old married couple, but partly like watching two men who know firsthand how easily life can slip away. They are holding on and letting go at the same time. Every song seemed to take on a new meaning with mortality in the background, even one of my favorite children's songs, "The Garden Song”: "We are made of dreams and bones, Need a place to call my own, ‘Cause the time is close at hand.” Their songs had an intensity that night that can only come from age and experience, from feeling deep in your soul that things can be better but that you may not be there to see it happen.

I'd seen the trio in concert several times over the years in different venues but my folk music grounding goes back to my childhood. Growing up my dad would tune in a program called "The Midnight Special" on Saturday nights and turn the radio up so we could listen in our bedrooms as we went to sleep. I would hear Pete Seeger, the Kingston Trio, Arlo Guthrie, PP&M and Steve Goodman singing in my dreams. I rode the City of New Orleans, had Thanksgiving Dinner, and searched for unicorns while I slept. The appeal to me was strong--the messages were of hope and peace, the harmonies perfect, the melodies accessible. And after all, it is a lot easier to sing folk songs around a Girl Scout campfire than operatic arias. Hearing those songs live brought back my own memories of growing up, of singing their songs, of falling in love.

As I sat in the audience I was thinking about growing up in the Midwest, the way in which that "cultural" experience has shaped my life. I think there is a lot to be said for a Midwestern upbringing, actually. Midwesterners have a kind of sensibility and calm that I like in my life. We see problems, we fix them, we move on. There is not a lot of handwringing needed or tolerated. But the culture of the Midwest was not fertile ground for music. I guess we had Motown and square dances, but neither of those influences filtered much into my section of rural Indiana. By then we had radios and the music of the 60s; the Beatles and protest songs filled my life. It was the season of change and possibility.

I will now boldly and publicly admit to my one of my personal failings. Despite my PhD in sociology, I did not understand the term “sociological imagination” until years after I completed graduate study. How is that possible? Well, when I started graduate school my intention was to become a demographer. I had never had a sociology course and had no interest in the field. In fact, I sought out one of the few graduate programs specifically offering a PhD in demography. But, along the way, an advisor suggested a dual PhD in sociology as a way to increase my employment options and it seemed like a good idea. Perhaps everyone assumed that I already knew something about sociology or maybe I missed the day in our social theory class where C. Wright Mills was discussed (more likely I was there but inattentive—I did get a C in that class…). In any case, I was clueless about sociological imagination and the intersection of history and biography even when they were right under my nose.

One of the watershed moments of my graduate study was reading Norm Ryder’s article titled, "The Cohort as a Concept in the Study of Social Change." He argues that social change is driven by demographic change, the constant addition of new members and deletion of old ones. He goes on to talk about how each cohort is shaped by the historical influences they experience and how the effects of particular historical events will differ based on the age at which a cohort experiences them. Living through the 1960s as a young girl was a much different experience than that of Peter, Paul, and Mary who were 20 years my senior. Songs that to me were pretty and powerful, were passionate calls to action for them. Events that were troubling, but distant from my everyday life, intimately shaped their lives and careers for 50 years.

I doubt I will see Peter and Paul perform live again, but I’m glad I saw them again without Mary. I’m glad I was able to see them miss her, but to continue to sing with love, passion, and humor. Curious, I went back to Ryder’s article today and was stunned to read the first line of the abstract, “Society persists despite the mortality of its individual members...” Sounds a bit like a train ride to me.

Writing life stories

Over the past few years I've become fascinated with the idea of writing life stories. Not so much that I want to write my own, although I suppose this blog is a type of life story writing, more that I have become interested in the stories of others. I credit three factors with leading me down this path.

First, after my mother's death, my dad starting sending out a daily email to his children and grandchildren. Often he relates mundane details about his day, what he ate, where he went. But, often, he includes some personal observations on current issues or a reminiscence of a past event. He has told about learning to drive, favorite foods, first jobs, and meeting my mom. I save all of these notes, I'm not sure why, and I'm a little concerned if for some reason an email doesn't appear before I go to bed.

Second, I have a few professional colleagues who work in the area of memoir writing, aging and memory, and Alzheimers Disease. What I've learned from them is that memory is only one facety of our personality and that the loss of memory does not have to mean the loss of meaning in life. I have listened to their presenations on creative writing with AD patients, with the role of life review in later life, and the power of preserving memories.

Third, last year I began a friendship with a retired colleague who is suffering memory loss. We meet weekly for lunch and last summer began writing his life story. We no longer actively write together, but we do share the stories and memories that those writings preserved. During the writing I was impressed with how important this time became for him, how seriously he took the endeavor, and how much it helped his wife.

So, I was pleased this morning to hear a story on NPR about writing with dying patients. A program, called Dignity Therapy, encourages patients in hospice to work with a therapist to tell their life story. One of my early mentors, Bob Butler, championed the use of life review therapy and I learned quite a bit from him about the importance of using the end of life as a time to come to peace with the past.

From time to time I've toyed with the idea of being more formal in my use of writing with others--volunteering to write stories, working on my own stories, joining a writing group. I'm not sure where it will take me, but it will be fun to see.

http://www.npr.org/2011/09/12/140336146/for-the-dying-a-chance-to-rewrite-life

Happy New Year

One of the nicest things about teaching as a profession, especially college teaching is that you get to celebrate New Years several times a year. The past week was the first week of classes for the fall semester and the excitement and energy were palpable. The campus is busy, everyone is back in their offices, meeting schedules are circulating. The first day of class is a little anxiety producing for most professors. We hope we have remembered everything--copies of the syllabus, the class roster, our powerpoint slides. Inevitably we run into some snag--the copier jams, the projection screen won't drop down, our flash drive is corrupted. Still, we have a room full of (mostly) eager faces...at least on the first day. Some of those people will disappear, some new ones will arrive. In a few weeks we will all have settled into a routine, and the energy will disappear. Of course, round about the 3rd week of October, I will be singing a different tune. I will be sick and tired of teaching, lecturing, and grading...and the students will be tired, too. Then we will take a long breath and come back for a strong finish.

n-back training

I have had the latest issue of "Brain in the News" on my desk for a bit and finally got around to reading it. The thing that caught my interest was a report on something called "n back training." There has been a lot of interest in different types of brain training exercises. Most studies have found that they do nothing to stave off things like Alzheimer's disease, but can help with some types of cognitive processing. (there are are also arguments that they enhance quality of life in other ways, by providing mental stimulation that improves mood, but that is even less clear.)

The standard advice we hear about aging is to do things like work crossword puzzles, listen to music, or learn a new skill. The theory is that two things might happen in our brains. First, we might establish denser neural pathways so that when one path gets lost we have other paths available. Second, by continually accessing different regions of the brain they get "exercised" and the neural pathways don't get lost.

The exercise called n-back training is the only thing shown to actually improve the ability to reason and solve problems. It is difficult to explain, but basically you try to remember whether a specific cue occurred n times ago in a series. A simple example would be a mono 2-back series of letters...

A D A F Q R Q A F A

Here you would be expected to recognize that the second A came 2 times after the first, the second Q was repeated, and the last A a repeat from 2 back...Does that make sense? Most training is done with dual cues, both auditory and visual. Apparently, doing this exercise for 20 minutes a day for 20 days improves reasoning. I'm going to try it.

Here is a website...
http://www.soakyourhead.com/Default.aspx

Laptops in the classroom

I'm in the process of writing my fall syllabus. There are a few changes, for one, the University seems to have lost a class week, at least for me. Given the low attendance on the days before Thanksgiving, this year we will not have classes at all that week. I had to do a little rearranging to make my topics fit the new outline. I'm also working on changing/updating some assignments and readings.

But, my biggest consideration is how to handle laptops and cell phones in class. I've always had a pretty lenient policy. I don't really care what people do in class. I do get upset if they start to bother other people around them, talking, etc., but if someone is quietly doing a crossword puzzle I usually turned the other way. I guess part of it was thinking if they didn't think what I was saying was important enough to pay attention to then that was my fault, not theirs.

Now, though, laptops and cell phones have become problems. Laptops invite abuse. I know at scientific review panels that many reviewers are surfing the net, checking email, and updating their Facebook pages while we discuss grants. The temptation is great. With advanced cellphones the temptation to check email and text is even greater. Last semester I talked to my class about whether laptops should be banned and most said "yes" even those who were on their laptops at the time. I'm thinking I will try that policy for a few semesters--no laptops--and see what happens. Banning cell phones is harder, requires more monitoring (what are you doing with your hands under the desk, Tommy?) But, I will try to make a stricter statement.

I've never been good at really calling out kids in class. What has worked is for me to bring the problem to the class and discuss it, more of a shame approach I suppose.
I'll let you know how it goes.

Salon.com

Wow, I never expected that my submission to open.salon.com would get ANY attention, much less be chosen as an editor's pick. I have a few other stories ready to send off, so I'll do that over the next few months. I may try to take some of my blog entries here and revise them, too.

I was a little hesitant to put that much personal information out there, but decided that it was worth it. I wonder if the mix of feeling a little excited and exposed it what "real" artists and writers feel when showing their work or releasing their writing. I can see how that creative process can be a little scary--will people like it? will they understand? will they think I'm nuts??

What has been more surprising, and rewarding in a way I didn't expect, are the reactions and responses of others. Many women reply to me with a story of their own feelings of insecurity and uncertainty. I was surprised to see how my thoughts "connected" with others.

http://www.open.salon.com/blog/christine_himes/2011/07/23/transformations

Open Salon

So, I've gone out on a limb a bit and posted a story at open.salon.com. The post is called "Transformations" and is posted under my own name, Christine Himes. I'd like people to read it, commenting is even better, but not required. I'm trying to get more hits....

Shameless plug, I know!

Living Longer, Part 2

Back in March I wrote briefly about asking my class how many would want to live an extra 50 years. I was surprised at how few students saw that as a desirable goal. A recent study has predicted that 1/2 of those born in 2011 will live to be 100, an amazing feat.

David Brooks, columnist for the NYTimes, wrote a recent editorial about living longer, called "Death and Budgets". In the column he makes the argument that our current fiscal crisis is the result of rising medical care costs. He goes on to note that "Years ago, people hoped that science could delay the onset of morbidity. We would live longer, healthier lives and then die quickly. This is not happening. Most of us will still suffer from chronic diseases for years near the end of life, and then die slowly." Actually, it is true that a greater proportion of life is now spent in years of good health. While it is true that many people suffer from chronic diseases we are much better at managing those diseases and their effects. As a result, active life expectancy has actually increased in the US and other Western countries.

I am not an expert on the current budget situation, but I am an expert on active life expectancy and the picture Brooks paints is just wrong.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/07/15/opinion/15brooks.html

more on memory...

It must be obvious by now, and I've probably said it here before, that i have become increasingly fascinated with memory. So, it was with interest I read about a recent study on contextual memory. The actual study is pretty specific. People were asked to look at a list of words and then later to recall as many as they could. It turns out that people remember the words "in order." That is, if they remembered one word the next word they remembered was likely to be the word that immediately preceded or followed that word in the list. The theory is that the context of a memory matters, if we remember one part then other parts will follow.

The article in the Times that describes the study doesn't make any connections to other studies, but I was reminded of another recent story that looked at study habits. I'm sure I discussed it here and could go back and find it, but I won't. In that study, researchers found that students who studied in different places remembered more information. In a different way, context mattered. By studying in different places the encoded information was associated with more clues. Those clues helped in retrieval later on. It also reminds me of the clustering of memories used by memory competitors. Those people "chunk" information and use other clues to help anchor the memories (walking through a house, telling a story, etc.)

So, what about in real life? I notice that in talking with older people who have memory deficits that sometimes this clustering takes place. The retrieval of one memory, or part of a memory, will lead to a cascade of additional memories around an event. It is like priming a pump.


http://www.nytimes.com/2011/07/05/health/05memory.html?ref=science

Christine Lagarde

I have a crush on Christine Lagarde. I don't think I had heard of her until a month or so ago. I happened to be in Paris right after the Strauss-Kahn scandal. He was the head of the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and was accused of sexually assaulting a hotel maid. In the aftermath, he resigned from the IMF and Christine Lagarde, France's Minister of Finance, was being touted as the likely successor. I saw her on TV and fell in love.

One look at her and you feel like she is someone you could trust. Someone who is competent, capable, level-headed, and reasonable. She inspires confidence and admiration. My favorite quote,"I honestly think that there should never be too much testosterone in one room."

She is only a year older than me. She is trained as a lawyer, not an economist (a plus in my book!) and has worked in the US and France. She made her way up the partner ladder in a large law firm before returning to France to enter the political scene.

Mostly, I think, I like her hair...

Welcome Mats

Many of us have a welcome mat at our front door. Sometimes we also have a little sign hanging on the door or near the door, inviting friends and family to come in. These can be silly and cute, often with pictures of animals, our names, or some play on words. Other times they are simple and direct, "Welcome friends." Recently I heard Anne Basting talk about the Penelope Project, her work to bring creativity and meaning into a nursing home setting (http://penelopeproject.wordpress.com/) . The project is based on the Odyssey, but focuses on Penelope--her waiting. In the story, when Odysseus returns home he is not recognized, but he is welcomed. How? The nursing home residents and theater students developed a beautiful set of gestures to convey the sense of welcome--my heart is open to you, I hear you, I welcome you, your eyes are like stars sparkling in the sky.

It is easy to think of how we might welcome someone into our home. We open the door, hang up their coat, offer them a chair, offer them food and drink. But, perhaps, most of all we make them feel welcome by paying attention to them, asking about their needs and concerns, including them in our conversations and activities. I can remember talking with my sons when they were younger about this idea. I would sometimes see that they left their friends alone while they went off to do something without them. Now, this might work for longtime friends or longterm guests in your home, we all need a little space, but, in general, this is not how we treat a guest in our home.

There are some homes in which I always feel welcomed. There is no pressure on me as a guest to conform to a particular way of being or thinking. There are some friends who seem able to create an atmosphere that is accepting and open without much effort. Other places seem less friendly, less relaxing, more pressured. I think we can learn a lot about ourselves from examining those places in which we feel most welcomed, what are the things we value? Order and cleanliness? Cheerfulness? Hustle and bustle? Calm and quiet?

How do welcome people into our lives in other places and settings? How do I welcome students into my classroom? It isn't really practical to have a welcome mat at the door, but maybe I should try that sometime! In some courses I've played music before class as students settle in, that seems to create a welcoming atmosphere. I often try to chat with students informally as they filter in, to recognize that they have lives other than the one I see in the classroom. I share stories about my life, so that they, too, can see that I have other facets to my life.

Creating welcome mats in all parts of our lives seems a worthwhile investment.

Sleep

Today's Chronicle of Higher Education had this headline for a story, "Students With Later Classes Get More Sleep, but Also More Booze and Lower Grades." The study, conducted by psychologists right here in Upstate New York at St. Lawrence University examined students class schedules, sleep schedules, mood, and substance abuse. They found that students who stay up late get more sleep, but they also drink more and get slightly lower grades than students who get up earlier. Intrigued, I went to the study abstract.

First, note the difference in titles. The "academic" title is: "Class Start Times, Sleep Schedule, and Circadian Preference: Preliminary Path Analysis Predicting Academic Performance in College Students." Now, which story are you more likely to want to read? The one about booze or the one about path analysis???? Anyway, what I found interesting is that the motivation for this study stems from the previous studies of high school students that found later school start times were reatled to decreased truancy and improved mood. Was the same true for college students?

The results confuse me. The researchers report that later class times were associated with delayed sleep times (ok, that makes sense). But they go on to say this was related to more missed classes, too. So, students were missing their classes even though they started later. I also found their discussion of night owls and late class times confusing. Which is more important--circadian preference or class schedule? Someone could be a night owl and have early classes--bad mix, or be a morning person and have later classes--maybe not as bad. Guess I'll have to wait for the full study to really understand what they did.

A little more on weeding...

I just had to do a little googling....

Here's a good "bad weed" quote....let's get rid of those cravings and ruminations!

"What is essential to practice the Tao is to get rid of cravings and vexations. If these afflictions are not removed, it is impossible to attain stability. This is like the case of the fertile field, which cannot produce good crops as long as the weeds are not cleared away. Cravings and ruminations are the weeds of the mind; if you do not clear them away, concentration and wisdom do not develop."- Chang San-feng, legendary founder of T'ai Chi Ch'uan, circa 1300 A.D.

AH, weeding as Zen...let's meditate on life's goodness while we sweat and the bugs bite and we are tired and hungry....

"People who spend a great deal of time in their gardens attest to the natural mindfulness that gardening requires. What could be more naturally mindful than weeding? It requires a great deal of sustained attention. Weeds need to be taken up with care: Pull too hard, and the weed breaks in your fingers, leaving the root to grow and spread. Different weeds need different techniques and, sometimes, tools. When we weed our gardens, we have to pay attention to where and how we walk and bend. Move too far in one direction or another, and we'll squash growing things."- Sura Lama Das, Awakening to the Sacred

Let's compare these two quotes...are weeds healthy rebels or the sign of a weak character???

"A weed is a plant that has mastered every survival skill except for learning how to grow in rows."- Doug Larson

"A person's character and their garden both reflect the amount of weeding that was done during the growing season."- Author Unknown

The balanced view, I'm liking you Carol, whoever you are....

"My garden is a balancing act between weeds and wonders. Though I started out as a frustrated perfectionist, over the years I've learned how to enjoy my garden rather than feel enslaved by it, thanks to a growing know-how and a change in mindset."- Carol Stocker

Weeding

I did some weeding in the flowerbeds today. Not one of my favorite tasks. There are some to claim that weeding is therapeutic or relaxing. I guess there is a sense of accomplishment, you can look at a clean area and see what you have done. But the work is tedious. On a hot day it is downright uncomfortable--sitting in the dirt or bending over, flies biting, sweat dripping...where's the relaxation?

I've seen some poems written about weeding, about the joys of pulling out the bad to make way for the growth of the good. I've seen analogies to life situations, about the need to kill the bad weeds so the good flowers can grow. There is a house down the road where the lawn is not mown all summer. The grass and weeds grow happily together and, from the road at least, it all looks green and healthy. Maybe a few weeds in the mix is not so bad after all. Maybe letting a few errant plants have their time in the sun makes the other flowers look even better.

Fortunately, after I finished weeding I was able to take a cold drink and sit in the shade with a book, and admire my clean flowerbed--although I did spot the smallest of weeds still there.

Isolation

There was a very sad story in our local news today. The report was of a young single mother found dead in her apartment along with her 2 month old child. The mother died of natural causes, as did, apparently, the infant. The two had last been seen a few weeks ago at a family gathering. The mother was on maternity leave, so no employer reported her absence. She didn't respond to family calls, but individual family members didn't connect their multiple missed attempts to contact her.

So, it makes me think, who would notice if I went missing? Of course, in my situation, many people would notice. But, for how many people is an absence of a week or two simply not something worth noting? In the summer or winter we often hear public health officials asking us to check on elderly neighbors or those living alone. In times of natural disasters or extreme weather we might be more conscious of the activities of our friends, family and neighbors. But, in the spring? How long could we overlook the absence of a neighbor? the lack of contact with a family member? when would an absence be cause of concern?

Graduation

I've just finished a full weekend of graduation activities. We start on Friday evening with the doctoral hooding ceremony. Those receiving PhDs receive their academic hoods from their advisors. I didn't have any student finishing this year, but attended as associate dean. It is an exciting evening for students who have worked long to finish their degrees. There is an obligatory explanation of the origins of the gown and hood, complete with the reason for the small pouch at the end of the hood (to hold a favorite beverage). The hooding ceremony is followed by a reception with good food and a full bar!

Saturday morning starts with the Arts and Sciences undergraduate convocation. This is held in the Dome and every student has their name read while they walk across the stage and have a handshake with the Dean. It takes a long time to read hundreds of names...I admire the readers who have to handle difficult pronunciations on the fly. Students fill out a card with their name and a phonetic guide. Some with names like "Russell Jones" provide detailed guides, while others with names like "Shanaquina Abaramdamblartokov" provide little direction. The readers have about 1 second to make a decision and then have to plow forward best they can.

This is followed by a reception for family back in the academic buildings. These are crowded noisy affairs when, as faculty, we try to remember the names of students who introduce us to their parents. Many faces look familiar, but names often are long gone. Still, there is usually a student who I really remember and whose family I want to meet. As a parent I've become increasingly aware of the importance of recognizing parents and telling them, personally, how much I enjoyed their child.

Saturday afternoon is our convocation for Masters students. I don't usually attend this event, but this year, as associate dean I was the master of ceremonies. A somewhat more difficult job given that I've never attended myself! These students are older, often from other countries. The biggest event is picture taking. They want their picture taken with everyone and everywhere. If you have a robe on, you get a picture. It is a fun and spirited group.

Finally, Sunday morning is the grand commencment in the Dome. It takes over an hour to seat all of the students. This year I was a marshall, which meant I was responsible for keeping the lines moving, walking young ladies to the bathrooms, and maintaining decorum. The decorum part is hard as the beachballs and balloons start to emerge. I know students are excited, but interupting their own student speaker seemed a little crass.

I didn't attend my college or graduate school graduations. It seemed a little anti-climatic. In both cases I finished in the summer and would have had to come back in May for the ceremonies. By then I was working and far away from college both physically and emotionally. I look back and don't feel that I missed much. Even though I am big on ceremony and ritual, I don't feel slighted. I wonder about the kids who were in the Dome today, what will they remember of this event, what message will they take away with them?

Grades are in

I just submitted my grades for this semester. Over time I've gotten over the guilt associated with a student who misses a higher grade by a fraction of a point. I grade each item as it comes along during the year and tally the results at the end. If I were to go back and examine each student's work again it would be difficult to be fair, I think.

As a student I used to calculate where I stood in a class before finals week. If I knew that basically no matter what I did I would still receive a B in a class, for instance, I tended to focus my studying on other classes where there was a chance of getting a better grade. There were a few times when I was surprised, in both directions, getting a better or worse grade than expected.

I don't know when I'll be teaching the population issues class again. I enjoy it and have fun teaching it. I'd like to develop a graduate level course on the same topic, perhaps geared towards the International Relations students. How can you understand current global issues if you don't understand the demographic forces at work?

Right Speech

I am not a Buddhist. I've dabbled in meditation, try to practice mindfulness, and believe in our spiritual connections to the natural world. Lately, I've been reading and thinking a lot about Alzheimer's Disease. My mother in law has some type of dementia as does a good friend. Interacting with people with AD requires that you develop a different perspective on life, meaning, and personhood. Well, I shouldn't say it "requires" that new perspective, in me it has awakened a new way of thinking.

I ran across a great article about spirituality and dementia the other day. It was written 10 years ago, but I had never seen it.

www.crosscurrents.org/webb.htm

In the article there is a discussion about the Buddhist principle of "right speech." As usually described, right speech means not lying, not being mean in your words. But, in a broader sense, it is about thinking how your words will affect another. Will they cause harm? Will they be beneficial? We are taught from a young age to tell the truth. In dealing with someone with Alzheimers, however, truth is a funny concept. If a person cannot comprehend their location in time, is it a truth to correct them when they think you are their sister instead of their daughter? That is a truth to you, but not to them. It has no meaning to them. Webb argues, in her article, that as caregivers we need to enter into the reality of the AD patient. Think about what is true for them at that moment.

Someone with AD needs to be treated with compassion, but not pity. There are still faculties that they retain, particularly the ability to feel, to have emotions. They may express those in ways that seem foreign to us, that seem out of place or out of context. But, if we try to see where they are, we might gain insight into what they need or are offering to us.

Mindfulness is another Buddhist concept, the ability to be totally in the present, open to the experiences and feelings of the moment. We don't hang on to them, we don't try to predict what will come next, we experience each moment as its own. Right speech is a way to be mindful, to think about the moment, the present. If our words are kind and compassionate, they will be "right." Not a bad idea to put into practice in all of our relationships.

A Calling

I consider myself a somewhat spiritual, although not particularly religious, person. What does that mean? I guess for me it means I'm interested in the ideas of what my place is in the world or universe. Do I have a purpose? How or why am I different from other people? What is my relationship to others and to the natural world? In contrast, I think of religion as adopting a particular tenet of faith and following a lifestyle based on that faith. One of the things I like about not having a particular religious identity is that I can adopt rituals and practices that feel good to me, regardless of their origins.

Over the last few years I've found myself increasingly drawn to ideas about stories, memory, and how people talk about their lives. I find that I am having those thoughts with increasing regularity. I've begun to think of it is my "still, small voice," and that maybe there is something I should do about it. I believe that having a listener makes a difference and that sharing life stories is important for both of the teller and the listener. I've wonder if maybe this is something I should do, maybe even need to do...a calling, perhaps. I wouldn't say that I usually believe in such things, but there is something that is pulling me.

In that way, I feel that there is a spiritual force that is directing me. It will be interesting to see where it leads.

Wind and Sand

I grew up near the Indiana Dunes. I spent many wonderful hours and days in the park--climbing dunes and running down at breakneck speed, playing on the beach, tobogganing down the hills in winter, making out with my high school boyfriend. Something about the sand, the wind, and the water made them a special place. I spent the last few days on Cape Cod. Not quite the dunes, but sand and wind for sure. The hills are smaller, the water bigger, but the feel is very similar. Walking along the beach looking for shells and stones, walking through dune grasses, sand in your shoes, wind in your face--LOTS of wind in your face! It has been a nice refreshing break from work, especially after the last few weeks.

Metaphors, Part II

So, it turns out that today my lecture in Population Issues was about world population growth and some of the concerns about overpopulation. Over the years I've collected quotes about population and shared a few with my class. I asked them to think about what kind of metaphors we use to talk about population. Most are "animal based." We talk about breeding like rabbits, for instance. One quote talks about the population resembling a writhing mass of maggots...very colorful.

But, if we use that language to talk about population growth, what are we saying. By comparing overpopulation (really, unchecked fertility) to animals we are comparing the people who have "too many" kids to animals. They can't control their animal instincts; they breed or mate, rather than bear children; sex is not a romantic encounter, but an uncontrolled mating act. Of course, if we take away the human dimension, it makes it easier to see the problem as an animal control problem--sterilization, planned culls of the herd, etc.

How does the language we use change the way we view the problem and the solution?

Metaphors

I've always been a big fan of metaphors, although I never paid much attention to them. I have to admit that it wasn't until a graduate course in the sociology of medicine that I really understood how the language we use to discuss an issue conveys multiple meanings. I was a late bloomer....We were reading Susan Sontag's "Illness as Metaphor." Obviously, it was about metaphors. It was the first time I had thought about terms like "war against cancer" "magic bullets" "battling disease"...like I said, a late bloomer in the language department. But, since then, I've been fascinated with the way we talk about life. In todays NYTimes, David Brooks wrote about just this topic in a column "Poetry for Everyday Life." Research shows that we use a metaphor every 10 to 25 words...Wow, that is a lot of metaphorical speaking.

These are some of his examples...

"George Lakoff and Mark Johnson, two of the leading researchers in this field, have pointed out that we often use food metaphors to describe the world of ideas. We devour a book, try to digest raw facts and attempt to regurgitate other people’s ideas, even though they might be half-baked."

"But when talking about money, we rely on liquid metaphors. We dip into savings, sponge off friends or skim funds off the top."

I know I've talked about my life as a walk in the woods, with sunny clearings and steep hills. I've also tried to out the sand dune metaphor, with shifting landscapes and changing shorelines. Brooks points out that we are not very good at spiritual or abstract thinking, so we need metaphors to provide concrete anchors for our thoughts. We need to compare new things to things we already know, we need to create those connections to make sense in our world. Metaphors are a way of doing that, a way of creating sense. What I really like about this though, is that metaphors are the cornerstone of poetry. It makes us all poets.

Gamification

So, I heard this story on NPR this morning about "gamification." The idea is to apply principles of games to everyday problems and situations. The example given was an effort in Sweden to control speeding. In addition to issuing tickets and fines for those who exceed the speed limit, drivers who were caught driving at or under the limit were entered into a lottery with the chance to win a portion of the fines. It is an apparent success. The argument is that positive incentives, a key feature of games, are more powerful than negative sanctions.

What I found more interesting in the story was the SAPS model described by a marketing guru. SAPS stands for status, access, power and stuff. The guy, Gabe Zicherman, argues that these are the things that motivate people, and in that order.

I know in academia we often talk about needing to show someone the love--that faculty members like to be recognized, made to feel important, thanked for their efforts. Sure, we all like money, but money is not all that we need or want. Isn't it the same in most business and personal relationships? What we want is to be recognized, to have access to another person, to feel powerful? "Stuff" is way down the list.

http://www.npr.org/2011/03/27/134866003/gamifying-the-system-to-create-better-behavior

Work-Family Boundary issues

The most recent issue of the Journal of Health and Social Behavior has an interesting article about the stresses created by the blurring of the work-family boundary. The study looked at the effect of the frequency of work-related contact outside of normal work hours on feelings of guilt and distress. They measured things like taking work-related calls at home or bringing work home. The use of cell phones and email make such contact increasingly likely. I would say there isn't a day that I receive work related emails after 5 pm or a weekend day in which I receive no work-related emails. And, the expectation usually is that I will respond to those that evening or on the weekend.

The study concludes that this "boundary spanning" between work and family has a negative psychological effect on women, but not men. This distress is exhibited mainly through feelings of guilt by women. This guilt tends to persist even when the actual performance of the role is controlled. That is, women feel guilty even if they are not diminshing their performance at either work or home.

I have set aside one full week a year in which I don't look at email and don't answer the phone. There is a little bit of withdrawal, but overall, I find it quite liberating.

Living longer

In my population class last week we were talking about aging and longer lives. I asked whether any of them would be interested in extending their life by 50 years, and got few takers. (I did ask this, though, just as we are approaching midterms, the March doldrums, and have had over 150 inches of snow. Still, my class has me a little worried and I've decided we need to lighten things up a little in there...)

By chance, I was just reading a NY Times article about David Murdock and his quest to live to 125. That is the about the oldest age ever recorded, and about where many scientists put the maximum human life span. His efforts have led him to adopt a diet rich in vegetables and whole grains. He has cut out dairy products, red meat, and sugar.

There is considerable doubt that such a plan will really work. But, it will be interesting to see how well he does. So far, he is looking pretty healthy.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/06/magazine/06murdock-t.html?src=me&ref=homepage

Apodictic

ἀποδεικτικός

I learned a new word the other day...apodictic. It means "clearly established, incontrovertible, beyond dispute." I love it! I only wish I could apply it to some real world situation.

I ran across the word while reading an article on immortality to prepare for class. The article talks about some of the potential drawbacks for long life. One of these, perhaps, could be the inability for us to remember our earlier "self."

I usually ask my class about their earliest memory. For most it is around age 4 or 5. If I think back about my childhood my earliest memory seems impossible. It involves taking my older sister to nursery school. I imagine it was in the spring, so the year would have been 1959 and I would be just 2 years old. On the road to the nursery school water has covered a large section, it is flooded. My mother tries to drive through the area and our car stalls in the middle. Here she is with 3 young girls, stuck in the flooded road. A farmer comes with a tractor and pulls us out. Do I really remember that event? I think I do. I know I remember being in the nursery school building before I myself went there. On the other hand, I always tell my class I remember virtually nothing of third grade. I don’t remember where my classroom was in the building, although I remember every other one. I don’t remember the name of my teacher. The only thing I remember from that year was being kept in from recess one day to be tested to see if I should skip to fourth grade. I failed, and stayed a third grader.

Does it matter if we can remember things from our earlier life? One theory is that the brain has limited capacity for storage and so "trivial" events are jettisoned. At the same time, the memories we keep may not be very reliable over time. They are shaped by later events, by changes in feelings and the stories of others.

So, here is the quote that caught my attention: "Whether or not that 'memory' is veridical is probably impossible to determine, but its role in giving coherence and continuity to existence does not depend on the memory being apodictic." My interpretation: It doesn't matter if what you remember is an accurate recall of reality. It only matters that it means something to you.

Comparisons

In my new administrative role, I'm often asked to compile data to be used in comparisons: comparisons among departments in my school, across schools and colleges in my institution, or even across institutions. The data requested is often very similar; "What is the stipend amount for graduate students?" "What is the teaching load for faculty?" They seem easy enough to answer. For the 2010-22 academic year students supported as graduate assistants will get $16,000. In my school, the teaching load is 2/2, 2 courses each semester.

But how useful is that information? Some students receive support for the summer, some don't. Some on assistantships are teaching a class, others are grading papers. Some students find other ways to supplement their stipend, taking under the table jobs, some have the financial support of a partner or parent.

Some professors teach large introductory courses, others teach small graduate seminars. Some teach "service" courses outside of their research interests, some teach only things closely related to their areas of interest. Some teach 3 days a week, some only 1.

As a diehard empiricist, I want to believe that most of what we want to know can be determined, that there are answers to these questions, values attached to them. With data we can sort and rank and determine what is "best." I'm not ready to give up on empirical data yet, but as I fill out another form asking me to provide data on "the number of graduate courses per semester" I do have my doubts about the success of my efforts.

Alphabetizing

I alphabetize. My teaching assistants do not. I must be "old school," because I don't understand how you can grade 45 papers and record the grades (in an alphabetical file) without alphabetizing. I mean I understand how it can be done...it just doesn't make sense to me. I want all the papers in order before I record grades. Then I can go right down the class list as I enter grades.

I have a few simple strategies for alphabetizing. Usually I first sort the papers into 2 or 3 piles (A-M and N-Z for instance), depending on the class size, and then sort within the piles. For smaller classes I just continually sort and resort the pile in my hands, moving papers forward or backward according to the last name. I always have a few puzzles--the students with hyphenated names or double names. So, is Meyer-Himes filed under M or H? What about Meyer Himes as a last name? My computer generated classlist sometimes does things differently than I would.

I do have a little trouble with the end of the alphabet. I can't tell you, without getting a running start, whether V comes before or after W. I don't know why, but I also get X and Y confused. Seems to me that X should come after Y. I mean, both X and Z are so infrequently used, why not just stick them at the end together. I was discussing this problem with my son's 16 year old friend. He confessed to having troubles with the PQRST sequence. For some reason, we seem to do better up to M then things fall apart. Although another hard area could be the JKL region.

I remember spending a lot of time learning about alphabetical order in elementary school. We regularly did exercises putting words in order. I don't know if it was merely a way for the teacher to keep us busy, or if there was some real reason to learn that. After all, most of us were not going to be file clerks in the future. I suppose an argument could be made for dictionary usage.

Overall, I guess my desire for alphabetical piles of papers is one more example of my desire for order. I wish that desire for order would spill over into my thoughts about housekeeping.

Memory training and mistakes

Sunday's NYTimes magazine features a story this week about memory training. This is not the kind of memory training that we usually hear about--how to remember names or how to work our brains to slow cognitive decline. This was "extreme" memory training, the kind used for competitive memory contests. Turns out that the techniques for this kind of extreme memorization are virtually unchanged since 86 BC. Our brains do better at spatial/visual memory than other types of memory. The big trick of memory champions is to place objects you want to memorize into a spatial pattern--usually a house. Each room contains something to remember, an object or set of objects. We remember them as we walk through the house.

Interestingly, I just read a novel, "Madonnas of Leningrad," in which this technique played a major role. A docent at the Leningrad art museum remembered paintings this way after they were stored for the war. In her old age she would walk through the museum in her memory and remember every painting.

The most interesting part, however, was about how to overcome a memory plateau. This research was based on speed typists. They went through a learning phase and then the process became automatic. They increased their speed until they reached a plateau, fast and accurate typing. How to get faster? Research showed that in order to get faster the typists had to force themselves to type faster, even if they made errors. They would identify when and where they made mistakes, and then practice those sequences. With this technique, their speed improved.

The point was that they had to push past their comfort zone, the speed at which they felt comfortable before they could get better. To quote, "To improve, we have to be constantly pushing ourselves beyond where we think our limits lie and then pay attention to how and why we fail...Psychologists have discovered that the most efficient method is to force yourself to type 10 to 20 percent faster than your comfort pace and to allow yourself to make mistakes. Only by watching yourself mistype at that faster speed can you figure out the obstacles that are slowing you down and overcome them." Bottom line: in typing, like in life, we need to push ourselves out of our comfort zone, make mistakes, and learn from them.

http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2011/02/20/magazine/mind-secrets.html?emc=eta1

Walking, again...

When I started blogging I put labels on my posts. I soon tired of doing that, trying to decide what category fit a particular entry. But now I fear I will be repeating myself. I shouldn't worry too much, because so few people read this.

I was reading the Chronicle of Higher Education during my lunch and ran across a short article about walking. The author argued that she was jealous of the smokers in her office who could take "cigarette breaks" midmorning and midafternoon. These breaks allowed them to get out of the office, socialize, and for a short time, put aside their normal work thoughts. She advocated that non-smokers take "walk breaks" to achieve similar results.

Walking is good for you, no doubt. But the benefits are not limited to physical, and the benefits do not depend on a long walk (although long walks fulfill a purpose all their own in my life.) Short walks allow for a mental and physical break from the office. A chance to get some sunshine and fresh air, a chance to refresh yourself.

In my job I like being able to get out of my office. Sometimes it is just to walk across campus for a meeting or class, other times I walk within my office building to visit a colleague. I do see the benefit and encourage everyone to find some time to do a little walking. Take a break from studying, from reading, from writing. You will come back to your task with new energy and insight.

127 Hours

I just came home from seeing this movie and it is on my mind. Most of you know the story, a hiker falls into a crevice and his arm is wedged between a rock and the canyon wall. He is stuck. The only way out, eventually, is for him to amputate his arm. The movie is pretty graphic....

But, there is much more to the story. The guy has lived his life pretty much doing what he wanted, when he wanted to do it. He told no one where he would be, he wasn't particularly well-prepared for the hike. He thought he was invincible. In the canyon he realizes that he was bound to end up in this type of predicament.."This rock has been waiting for me my whole life."

So, does the rock represent for each of us a seemingly insurmountable obstacle? Do we all have our rocks, our impossible predicaments? One message of the movie could be not to give up hope, not to succumb to an impossible situation, but continue to fight. The force of the human spirit is stronger than the situation. We will face obstacles, how we handle them is what determines the type of person we are.

Or, does the rock represent destiny? The hiker's actions all lead to this point. He was settting himself up for this. If that is the case, to what extent can we escape our past actions? Can we reset our path? If we create obstacles, or at least put ourselves in a position to face them, can we deflect them once the process has started? Can we change our fate, our destiny?

Nonsense questions

I recently read an article about the willingness of kids to answer nonsensical questions. So, for instance, you can ask a kid, "Which is heavier, red or yellow?" and they will readily supply an answer. They went on for a whole range of yes/no type questions and kids happily supplied an answer. But, if the question was more open-ended, the example was "What do feet eat for breakfast?" kids would say they didn't understand the question or say they didn't know.

What are the implications for survey research? Obvious. Social scientists routinely ask people for their opinions about a whole range of issues. Many of these are quite unfamiliar to the respondents. Many are worded in a way that reduces a complex issue to a simple description (success vs. failure). Yet, respondents generally are willing to give an opinion, provide an answer.

For survey researchers, this can be a problem. We may not really be measuring the idea we want to investigate.

But, I also recently read an article about working with Alzheimer's patients. One of the novel approaches was to introduce topics for which there may be no right or wrong answer, that don't depend on memory or recall. One example was, "What's better, coffee or meat?" The purpose of the questions is not to elicit a particular answer, but to establish a relationship with the other person, to engage them.

Maybe for children the nonsense questions seem like reasonable things to consider--wouldn't we all agree that red is heavier than yellow?

Homing Pigeons

I'm sort of a podcast addict. I regularly listen to several and one of my favorites is RadioLab, a science program on NPR. Over the weekend I listened to an episode titled "Lost and Found." They explored questions related to direction, how do we know where we are? I had recently read about a language in which directions were a key element. So you might say "Could you please move your chair NNW? It is in my way." This same group was highlighted in the RadioLab discussion. The people who speak this language develop this ability at an early age and seem to naturally be able to sense their direction at any point in time.

Something new for me, however, was a story on homing pigeons. How do they find their way "home?" Turns out we don't really know how their directional sense works. But, it works quite well. Scientists have tried a variety of experiments--anesthesia, turntables, frosted contact lenses--and still the best explanation is that they have some type of metal in their beaks that allows them to use magnetic forces to find their way.

So, why are they called "homing" pigeons? At the root of the story, for me, was the idea of finding your way "home." That for the pigeons this was a physical location, a place. We all know that home can be a more abstract concept, a feeling, a sense of belonging. How closely are those two tied? As someone who spent her whole childhood in one house, a house in which her father still lives, home as a very strong physical connotation. Going home means something very specific. I wonder what the sense of loss will be when that physical space is no longer available to me.

I thought I had resisted the notion that home needed to be a physical location. I wanted to think that "home is where the heart is," that moving to a new location didn't change my sense of home. Now, as my children leave home, I'm not sure how successful I've been at that resistance. I clearly identify my house as my home.

One interesting note about pigeons. They are monogamous, mating for life. One way to encourage a male homing pigeon to return home faster is to place another male in the cage with his mate. The husband, knowing that his mate is possibly taking up with an outsider, returns "home" faster than if his mate is left alone. So, maybe pigeons aren't so different after all......

Academically Adrift

I have not read this book, but it is certainly getting a lot of attention in academic and political circles. Written by two sociologists, Arum and Roska, the study uses data from the Collegiate Learning Assessment. This standardized test is given to college students in their first semester and then again at the end of their second year. The goal is to measure how much students have learned in 2 years of college. Their finding--students don't do much better in critical thinking, complex reasoning, or writing after spending 2 years in college.

What are students doing in college? Socializing and working it seems. At the same time, colleges apparently put little emphasis on these skills. As a professor I know that assigning work that will take a lot of time to grade gives me pause. There are so many other demands on my time, that I want to minimize the time spent grading. Does this mean my assignments are more simplistic? Perhaps.

A few questions I will want to investigate. Did college students in the past learn more? Have things changed? In the past colleges were more selective in their admissions and fewer students went to college. Did those students learn more, or did they come to college with those skills already? And, are these the skills we want college to emphasize? Are there other things college students are learning that are important?

Around the same time as Academically Adrift was released another study looking at writing in Texas colleges was published. That study found that students did little writing in their college courses.

I think about my own courses. I think the writing skills of students definitely improves over time. Most of my seniors are writing better than my first year students. But, I don't have a lot of writing in my courses. Maybe I need to think about increasing the writing components. I would like to find ways to increase complexity without increasing significantly the time I spend grading.

Too much news

This has been a busy week, first week of classes, getting ready for an NIH meeting, students back on campus, faculty meetings back on the calendar....and so many interesting news stories to choose from. Here are 3 that I'll talk about today or tomorrow:

The Tiger Mother, a book about extreme parenting
Academically Adrift, a book about how universities fail students
The death of Sargent Shriver

I guess I'll start with the last, because it is the one I have the least to say about. Shriver is someone I had only a passing knowledge of or interest in. I have always been fascinated with the ideas of the Peace Corps, but that was the extent of my background on Shriver.

The thing, though, that struck me this week was thinking of Shriver in his final years and his struggle with Alzheimer's Disease. In an article published in The Atlantic, Scott Stossel, author of a Shriver biography, describes a visit with Shriver. In the visit Shriver regales Stossel with a story about an author who is writing a book about him. Shriver goes into great detail about the project, the ideas of this biographer, and Shriver's excitement about the project. It is only after several minutes that Stossel realizes that Shriver is discussing HIM and HIS book. It is one of the frustrations of AD that some events are remembered only in part--Shriver knew a book was being written and details about it, but did not connect the man standing in front of him as the author.

I had a similar experience this week with a friend. He also has early dementia and came to meet me for lunch. But, he forgot that the lunch date was with me. Instead he came to my office asking for my help in figuring out who he was supposed to be meeting. At first, I thought he was talking about a lunch date for another day, afterall he clearly knew who I was. After going through some names, I realized that it was our lunch date he was trying to remember. He remembered lunch, remembered me, just didn't remember that the two went together.

My reaction was mixed. At the time, we both laughed at the mistake and went on to have a pleasant lunch. Later, I was struck to realize the extent to which he depended on me, and trusted me. It seems like a rather large responsibility.

http://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2011/01/the-good-works-of-sargent-shriver/69677/

Walking

I love to walk. Certainly as a health researcher I am well aware of the physical and psychological benefits of walking and think long walks are essential. One of my favorite places to walk, because of its convenience and paucity of visitors, is a county park near my home. I very rarely encounter another walker there. I have a regular route I walk, consisting of a couple of big loops, one through the forest, one through an open field. I like the contrast between the two. The wooded trail is much hillier, but the trees, leaves, and stream are pretty. The field is more flat but you can see far into the distance, the view of the surrounding hills is interesting regardless of the season. I usually do the woods loop first, then the field, get the hard part out of the way early. But sometimes in the summer it is fun to go the other way, from the heat of the field to the cool of the woods. Either way, the transition is noticeable in terms of terrain, view, and temperature.

Transitions are part of our lives. Moving from hills to flat fields, from hot sun to cool shade. I've been trying to look at those changes like the changes on my walk, differences to be enjoyed for their stark contrasts, not new encounters to fear.

Mediterranean Diet

The Mediterranean diet has attracted attention for years for its relationship to lower rates of heart disease. It is one of the reasons for the surge in the use of olive oil in the U.S. and the increased consumption of red wine. The diet is heavy on fish, fruits and vegetables, and whole grains--all of the foods that are recommended by dieticians. Although the diet is high in fat, they are the "good" kinds of fat, monounsaturated and polyunsaturated.

As a graduate student, I almost did my dissertation on aspects of the Mediterranean diet. My advisor had built his career on studying the relationship between cigarette smoking and mortality rates at the national level. He was really pushing me to do a similar study with fish oil. I wasn't all that excited by omega-3 fatty acids and went in a different direction.

One of the problems with studying the effects of diet on health is that it is so variable and uneven. Nobody eats exactly a Mediterranean diet, not even people who live around the Mediterranean Sea. Still, there seems to be a high correlation between the elements of the diet and lower rates of heart disease.

Now, a study in Chicago has shown that the diet also is associated with better cognition. Those who most closely followed a Mediterranean diet had cognitive scores 2 years better than those who did not follow the diet. Another good reason for having a glass of wine when I get home tonight!

Santa Claus

Now that the Christmas season has passed it is safe to write about Santa Claus. During a holiday luncheon there was a discussion about children and when they stopped believing in Santa Claus. I was amazed when one woman mentioned that this year her daughter admitted that she no longer "believed." I did some rough calculations in my head, and said, "Isn't your daughter like 11 years old or so?" Turns out I was right. Could an 11 year old be expected to still believe in Santa? In this world?

I didn't think my sons every really believed in Santa. We never made a big deal of it--or of the Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, or other mythical creatures. I wouldn't say we went as far as the mom in "Miracle on 34th Street." We read lots of fairy tales, told stories, wondered at the magic of life and story. Still, I just couldn't get excited about creating this imaginary world of creatures who did good or evil things to kids.

I asked my boys about their memories of Santa. They admitted that they had, for a time, believed in Santa, but that they didn't remember any great shock when they realized the story wasn't true. It seemed a reasonable conclusion and a natural outgrowth of their maturity. They figured that by 5 or 6 they had lost their belief.

What purpose do those stories serve in our society? What types of myths do we continue to believ in about people, events, and motives?