Spurred by my recent attendance at the session on narrative gerontology, I've been doing some reading on narratives. Right now I'm crawling through Reading Our Lives: The Poetics of Growing Old. I only understand about a third of it, and it is slow going, but today I ran across an interesting few paragraphs. The discussion was about the "culture of embeddedness" we encounter in our families of origin. In our family we learn (the book says "inherit") patterns for talking about our actions, expressing our emotions, and conveying our ideas. We are exposed to entire strategies for composing and editing the stories of our lives; the little stories and the big ones. Being conversant in this "family genre" is essential for our inclusion in the group.
However, this group is not static, it changes over time as people age, or die, and people come and go. So both the players and their perspectives shift. Here is a nice sociological line, "In short, we shape the stories we are part of even as they shape us." It reminds me of the analogy we use for society and the effects of individuals, or cohorts, on society. We can view social life as a river, it is bounded by shorelines, and those shorelines keep us "on track" in some sense. However, the stream is also shifting the shorelines over time. Some parts are eroded, the course changes subtly or dramatically. So, the same idea we are shaping society as society shapes us.
Also interesting is the idea that there is some objective story or history and our individual perceptions of it. I am always fascinated when my siblings and I start to compare childhood memories. We have very different versions of the same event, we even argue about the actual "facts"--who was there, where or when did it occur. I like this sentence, "What we make of that history, however--the episodes that stand out for each of us andd the overall myth we have composed of it inside our own minds--is another matter." I emphasized the word myth because I like the sense of our life stories being mythical.
Well, that was one page of reading.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Monday, January 16, 2012
The power of alone
I read a great review of a new book, "Quiet:: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking," today. Here is the link:
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/15/opinion/sunday/the-rise-of-the-new-groupthink.html
The author makes the case that we, as a society, have put too much emphasis on group work, team building, and collaboration. Turns out there is a lot of scientific evidence that people work best alone. From the article, "Research strongly suggests that people are more creative when they enjoy privacy and freedom from interruption." The book's author, Susan Cain, describes how group work is now found in the workplace, in schools, even in churches where worship is public and theatrical.
Yet, many of us enjoy and thrive in an environment that is quieter, more subdued, more focused and concentrated. We like moving at our own pace, not the pace of the group--spending more time on some problems and less on others. Interestingly, electronic communication and collaboration acts more like independent thinking than group work. The anonymity of the screen helps to recreate that sense of independence found in working alone. We are alone together, and, in this instance, it is good thing.
I crave alone time. Taking long walks alone feels almost essential to my well-being. I need time during the day to pursue solitude and quiet. As Cain notes, "...most humans have two contradictory impulses: we love and need one another, yet we crave privacy and autonomy." Learning to balance those two impulses and desires is the key to happiness.
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/15/opinion/sunday/the-rise-of-the-new-groupthink.html
The author makes the case that we, as a society, have put too much emphasis on group work, team building, and collaboration. Turns out there is a lot of scientific evidence that people work best alone. From the article, "Research strongly suggests that people are more creative when they enjoy privacy and freedom from interruption." The book's author, Susan Cain, describes how group work is now found in the workplace, in schools, even in churches where worship is public and theatrical.
Yet, many of us enjoy and thrive in an environment that is quieter, more subdued, more focused and concentrated. We like moving at our own pace, not the pace of the group--spending more time on some problems and less on others. Interestingly, electronic communication and collaboration acts more like independent thinking than group work. The anonymity of the screen helps to recreate that sense of independence found in working alone. We are alone together, and, in this instance, it is good thing.
I crave alone time. Taking long walks alone feels almost essential to my well-being. I need time during the day to pursue solitude and quiet. As Cain notes, "...most humans have two contradictory impulses: we love and need one another, yet we crave privacy and autonomy." Learning to balance those two impulses and desires is the key to happiness.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Car conversations
I love car conversations. As a parent you can learn so much. Here are two tidbits from the last few weeks, gleaned while transporting two boys, 16 and 17 years old.
"I wish we had better snacks at home. All we have are chips."
"I know what you mean. Sometimes I walk into the kitchen, look in the cupboards, look in the fridge and think, 'There's nothing here that I can make in less than 2 minutes. I'll just have to starve.'"
"Yeah, who wants to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?"
"Right. It is so much work. You have to get out the bread, get out the peanut butter, get out the jelly, get out a knife."
"Then you have to spread the stuff on the bread, put it together. It takes forever."
"And it's not even worth it! All that work and all you have is a stupid PBJ."
Here are the comments following a verbal slip I made, running two sentences together.
"Mrs. Himes, that didn't make any sense. You said 'You..Mrs. Fragola and I.' I didn't understand you."
"No, Sam, there was a period between 'you' and 'Mrs. Fragola.' My mom was saying two separate sentences."
"Oh. Well, Mrs. Himes, you should say your periods better."
"Yeah, Mom. That sounded more like a comma than a period. You didn't really come to a full stop."
"Or maybe a semi-colon. What good are they anyway?"
"I know! When do you ever need a semi-colon in life?"
"I don't ever use them. Colons, they make sense. But, semi-colons, worthless."
P.S. My son wants me to note that he called the semicolon a "punctuation abomination." So noted.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Growing Old
I have been running across some very well-worn ideas about aging and death recently. None of these are my own, none are new or novel, but they seem to be coming together in a new confluence of thinking for me.
At heart, they have to do with the notion of "growing old" as opposed to "getting old." As someone who has studied various aspects of aging for nearly 25 years, the idea that we age from the moment of birth is not new. But what does it mean to grow old? Psychologists have their life stage theories, maybe Erikson's theory of psychosocial development is the best known. His 7th and 8th stages, in which generativity and integrity are the conflicts, deal with aging directly. At the end of life we should be able to look back in life review and feel good about what we have done or accomplished.
What I find puzzling, though, is the emphasis on looking back, looking to the past for confirmation of who you are and what you have done. Some critics of Erikson point to his emphasis, throughout the life course, on accomplishment. "Growing" old would encourage, I think, a more forward perspective.
I've also been reading about death and dying as part of my preparation for hospice work. Some of the focus is on preparing for death, the tasks that some dying people encounter. These might include making amends, resolving old interpersonal conflicts, or completing some concrete task (knitting a sweater, compiling a photo album). Narrative gerontology focuses on the life story. The notion that our lives are stories...they have beginnings, middles, and ends. As authors of our lives do we have a goal of creating a tidy ending? tying up all the loose ends of our story and character before closing the book?
At heart, they have to do with the notion of "growing old" as opposed to "getting old." As someone who has studied various aspects of aging for nearly 25 years, the idea that we age from the moment of birth is not new. But what does it mean to grow old? Psychologists have their life stage theories, maybe Erikson's theory of psychosocial development is the best known. His 7th and 8th stages, in which generativity and integrity are the conflicts, deal with aging directly. At the end of life we should be able to look back in life review and feel good about what we have done or accomplished.
What I find puzzling, though, is the emphasis on looking back, looking to the past for confirmation of who you are and what you have done. Some critics of Erikson point to his emphasis, throughout the life course, on accomplishment. "Growing" old would encourage, I think, a more forward perspective.
I've also been reading about death and dying as part of my preparation for hospice work. Some of the focus is on preparing for death, the tasks that some dying people encounter. These might include making amends, resolving old interpersonal conflicts, or completing some concrete task (knitting a sweater, compiling a photo album). Narrative gerontology focuses on the life story. The notion that our lives are stories...they have beginnings, middles, and ends. As authors of our lives do we have a goal of creating a tidy ending? tying up all the loose ends of our story and character before closing the book?
Friday, December 30, 2011
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...
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...
Thursday, December 1, 2011
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?
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?
Sunday, November 27, 2011
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.
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.
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