Tag Archives: Albert Lea Tribune

Disappearing Dining Rooms

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I read an article this morning that stated dining rooms were disappearing from American households. I wonder what that might say about family life today or get-togethers with friends.

I grew up in the 50s. A few of my friends’ homes had dining rooms, and others’ homes, including ours, had kitchen tables where we would dine with our family. At the time, dining rooms were reserved for special meals, or the occasion when guests visited for dinner. We sat down together, every night for the family meal by a table. It didn’t matter what was going on, especially if you were a kid, you were to be home for dinner, which in those days the night meal was called supper in the Midwest.

Usually, when meals were served in dining rooms, the dining experience was reserved for the special China and the good silverware. We had certain manners we had to use. I always loved the dining room experience as it made it a special meal.

I must admit I didn’t read the entire article. It could have been that people are transitioning to the big room experience and table. I suspect if I would have read it more in-depth than just a skim, the main focus would have been on family either having a leisurely dinner hour, or the fact many families do not sit down together for a meal anymore because they are too busy. Kids and parents grab their plates and sit separately at a counter, or in front of the television, or with a book or phone in their hands, ignoring the other people in the room. In my youth I tried to read books at the table. I never wanted to put down my book, but reading at meals wasn’t allowed. The same as hats at the table were not allowed. Fast food pickup today is popular with the working moms and dads and kids. The family can eat on the run separately while on the way to the many activities.

If I travel back through time and look at my pictures of the past, the photos over the years depict my family dining experience with family and friends. It was the heart at the meal. Every birthday is captured around the table. Every anniversary, birthday celebration, and the night meal are around a table. That was our time, coming together over a meal at night. Granted my kids would complain, they didn’t always like the food. Brussel Sprouts were not their favorite. One evening we had company and the adults sat at the table with the kids sitting at their own table because of space. We learned we should never let the kids out of our sight when there was a questionable vegetable. I found out later that one of my children put their creamed rutabagas in a napkin and snuck it into my friend’s purse so it only appeared that he ate them. Yes, at our table the kids had to try everything and eat what we served. There were no separate meals for the kids. We had a good laugh at that one. When my friend informed me weeks later of the mischief, I was upset. She laughed and said that was why she didn’t tell me sooner. My friend thought it was funny. She was a teacher who apparently had a sense of humor. The memory of the meal together stayed with us for many years. Now I have no one but the culprits to share the memory with and they aren’t talking. My friend has passed on, but he friendship and memory of that night by a forgiving friend is priceless.

As a family at the table, we shared our day, our fun things and our sad experiences. We laughed, we fought, we complained, but we were together. My kids learned manners and how to use the right utensils in case they were at a fine dining establishment. It was a time that I fear is long gone. There is something to be said about sitting around a table and talking for hours. And… teaching kids they do need to learn to sit and listen to adults and have patience. Yes, it can be done. Manners at a table, I believe reach out to the world in better learned behavior. Have you been in any restaurants with kids these days? Behavior hasn’t changed but the response of the parents has. Eating together also was an opportunity to assess if our kids were doing okay. Yes, sometimes we missed it. But family meals result in many funny stories to our grandchildren.

A few years ago, I was a guest at my son’s home. My grandson requested noodles for dinner. He then said to me, “Grandma, do you know what dad told me? He said if he didn’t eat what you made, he had to go to bed and he didn’t get any supper, and everyone had to eat the same thing. I told him you wouldn’t do that.” I laughed and informed him that it was indeed true. I don’t know if that was a teaching moment in my grandson’s life or a realization that perhaps his grandma wasn’t who he thought she was.

I’ll confess, I no longer have a dining room or a kitchen table in my apartment. It is too tiny a space. I had a table and chairs for the last year, but having guests was too cramped with the table. Have I given up on the sitting around the table experience? No. I am translating the table to tv trays, sitting them in a circle in front of my living room furniture so guests can sit and still have a table and group experience.

There is a reason the television show, Blue Bloods, dining scene is popular. They represent the families of the past, sharing bread and sharing their life, once a week. The Reagan family slows down and takes the time to learn about each other’s up and downs of the week, building a bridge one conversation at a time. Maybe we all want to experience that connection again.

We need those bridges of conversation at a dinner table more today than possibly in the history of our country. Families are fractured. Friendships survive on meeting in between our busy activities. We have a hard time turning off our phones and stepping away from the noise. We have sacrificed time with those that mean the most to us, for living in a world that offers us glamour, stress, and builds in us an idea that for our kids being busy keeps them out of trouble. We spend more time online with strangers than we do with those who share our lives in the flesh. How’s that working for us? Build that bridge. Break that bread at the table with family and friends. That’s the spice of life. We will all leave this earth one day. What will our life and the way we spend our time tell others about what we value?

Senior Snarking

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Laying low. Being silent. Reflecting. Crabbing. Yes, I have tried all those various ways of being lately. It’s been two years the end of this month since we moved from our home, first into independent living for both of us, then memory care for Mark and HUD independent living for me. I’ve learned so much about aging and care. My moods have been euphoric, depressing to the point of falling apart, sad at the passing of my husband, and anger at rules that are and are not enforced,and happy for my new environment and friends.

One of the hardest lessons is learning to live in an apartment for the first time in buildings for seniors that have many rules which call for adjustments in the way we were used to living.

It’s no secret that in my first abode, first try at senior living, we were always at odds with management because of mistakes in billing and care. However as residents we were not restricted with many things we could or could not do which affected our freedom of living.

I love where I live now. My second senior housing try. The campus and my independent living apartment are very beautiful and comfy, however I am learning that as a resident there are many more restrictions. I and other residents have a hard time adhering to rules. Remember teenage years when the don’t always turned into…I want to try that?

It’s very hard for older people who have had to leave their homes, their communities and the independence they had, to find their world smaller and their choices restricted. Younger managers don’t always understand their role in making sure seniors do not feel threatened by the penalty for a misstep in not following what seems to seniors, silly and frivolous restrictions. Considering everything else seniors may be encountering physically an emotionally, being stressed about getting written up should not be happening. Staff is not always trained to patiently work and understand the way problems are addressed whcih makes a difference in older people’s reactions to having their boundaries changed when it comes to living their lives. If seniors are talked down to, treated like children and addressed by raised voices they feel threatened and disrespected and not being heard. You’ve read the articles on senior citizens not being seen as viable people that still have wisdom and years of living experience that would benefit being listened to. Many managers do not know that the subject being complained about is not necessarily the problem, but the restriction is about another choice being taken away. The language and tone about which it is addressed matters.

Seniors in senior housing, especially low income senior housing, should not have to feel afraid to speak up because of repercussions, but they do. Plus, they are afraid of losing their home if HUD funding changes.

If it were not for HUD housing many elderly tenants would have no home and it is a worry that is real. Elderly tenants that live in HUD housing have worked hard all their life, but have no retirement savings as benefits were not a available to them, or they come from an abusive household, or their medical bills ate up everything they have. Some make just enough from Social Security to not qualify for help such as Medicaid, but do not make enough to pay the rents, groceries and health care.

And so we argue about things that to the younger generation doesn’t matter, such as the ability to move tables around in the dining room, changing the arrangement of them according to our activities and groups that might want to have their own conversations. Or the ability to have our small kitchen in our dining/community room open so on weekends we don’t have to bring pots of coffee down from our apartments to serve our afternoon coffee crowd. We argue over communication when we feel we are being patronized, dismissed and not heard. Our opinions don’t matter to the running of our home when we have decades of wisdom that might make a difference to the peacefulness of community. We want an environment that is well taken care of so when visitors arrive they don’t see the stuffing in the dining room chairs or the cracks in patio furniture that says we are not the wealthy side of the community.

I learned myself that asking questions over and over because of not getting a satisfactory answer, or expressing concern over management, can get you written up and result in a conversation with the manager and upper level staff. These things are destroying the peaceful atmosphere. It’s felt like being called into the principal’s office in high school, which never happened to me. It took 73 years to be called to the office. I learned recording a resident meeting so we have minutes is a no-no because I didn’t inform them I was doing it, though those at my table knew. I honestly didn’t know the rules of recording a community meeting. But I now know what can and can’t be done so I can do better

It is hard for all of us that haven’t lived with these restrictions in our home to get used to having them at our age. However, I understand to have a peaceful environment rules are needed and entities may impose them so we don’t have problems.

Those are the hard parts, but these are the blessings. I have eleven neighbors on our floor and we help each other out. We have fun, we watch out for one another and we don’t ever have to be lonely. We just have to step outside our door. Add the other four floors and we are a family. I’ve met so many good people and I have learned about courage from those whose lives are hard and filled with pain and disability. Yes, residents have squabbles with each other. Who doesn’t have issues even in a family environment.

I live in a beautiful friendly community that keeps me busy and interested. I have met people of different races, religion and genders that have given me growth in acceptance of those who are different than me. I didn’t want to move those years ago but it was necessary for my husband’s care, and yet it’s one of the best experiences of my life. The people we met, the places we’ve lived, learning about hospice and feeling enveloped by family and friends through my husband’s death. God does know what he’s doing. We have to trust there is a plan. Now I just need to learn to follow the rules. You know they say curiosity killed the cat. I don’t want to use up my nine lives, plus detention is no fun at my age.

Ending The Old—Beginning the New

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It’s been a rough and tough year in my life. 2023 will go down in my mind as the most difficult year I have experienced. It’s been a year full of blessings, stuffed with caring and joy.

You might think those two statements can’t possibly both stand side by side and be true.

2023 will be marked as the year I became a widow. After years of confusion and pain and memory loss for my husband, God chose to take him home and give him peace from the PTSD he lived with because of the Vietnam War, from the pain he suffered from his back and stomach, and from the anguish he felt when he realized his mind was playing tricks on him, giving him hallucinations and fear at what was happening with his memory.

Watching someone you love suffer, blaming yourself for not doing enough, or not knowing what to do as a spouse and caregiver, destroys any semblance of sanity. The family, children, no matter their age, suffer too, and their feelings get overlooked, especially by the caregiver because the caregivers can’t get outside of their grief to help kids sort through what’s happening to their dad or mother.

And then… deep breath… there are the friends and other family members who God also chose to bring home to him, leaving us devastated at the emptiness of those people being gone.

Worst year of our lives.

The blessings. When you are reeling from the pain, the most surprising events happen. New friends pop up to lift you up, carry you and lead you through the darkness. Old friends never let you go and surround you with prayers, and knowing you so well, they sense what you need when you didn’t know you needed it.

Extended family, though separated by miles or community, come together, sharing your pain but offering memories and hope for the future by letting you know that family is forever.

The dark road you are on is lit by the kindness of others.

My road has included stops I never wanted to make, but looking back I am thankful the roadblocks included these stops. I didn’t want to sell my home and leave my community of 62 years. I didn’t want to move my husband to memory care, and I didn’t want to move again this past year to a new place and another community. However, I did. I learned lessons I never would have learned had I stayed stuck in my old life.

I met people that expanded my world. I learned a handicap and age does not have to define your life. Courageous, beautiful souls live in bodies twisted from life. They let their spirit define them.

I learned to look into people’s eyes and souls and not judge them by race or gender or age. Their hearts beat the same as mine.

I learned to look beneath the glitz of our materialistic world and see those that are missed and forgotten. Our neighbors may be one paycheck or social security check away from homelessness or food insecurity. It’s easy to judge when you haven’t experienced it.

I learned our health care system and assisted living and memory care need change so nurses and aides aren’t set up to fail by lack of training, horrible workloads and hours, because these facilities only have to staff the bare minimum. Regulations mandating enough staff are sadly lacking. Facilities shortchange staff on wages so it’s hard to be competitive with other careers. Management always seem to be compensated. Elder abuse is alive and well propagated by money and greed.

I learned even though you pay over $4000 for a room in memory care, you have to provide your own toilet paper. That may seem like a small thing but those small things add up. Not only do you pay the price for the empty room, you must provide furniture, essentials plus every little thing staff does for you, including picking you up off the floor has a charge. I learned that in assisted living, if you fall no one can help you up or give you CPR, that includes staff. You have to call 911. I learned to ask about details such as this when moving in. Not all facilities do this but many for profit establishments do.

I may not have wanted to educate myself on any of these things, however, I would have missed meeting the people that changed my life for the better, teaching me that you can smile and play during the pain of whatever situation you are in. Their quiet courage and faith moved me beyond words

I love where I now live, city and building. My building mates enrich my life. I see my family often. And it’s a new year full of possibilities. I have a new slogan, “Be careful what you don’t wish for.”

I did make a few resolutions I know I can keep. I am going to hang my toilet paper any way I choose. I don’t have to make my bed, because then I don’t mess it up at nap time. I can eat crackers in bed. I’m the only one that sleeps there and the crumbs will be gone when I wash my sheets. My clothes will be clean, but I see no need to fold my underwear, you can’t see those wrinkles. And if I choose to throw my jeans in the drawer unfolded after washing them, when I wear them, I will be coordinated, wrinkle coordinated. My wrinkled jeans will match my face.

It’s a new year. I’m going to try and learn from the old, keep the lessons I experienced close and hope I am up to the task of what I encounter in 2024.

Life is not a fairytale. It is mixed with dreams, sorrows, love, defeat, peace and pain. We can get through it if we rely on each other and lift someone up when they can’t go on, and let someone lift us up when we are buried by the facts of life. And if we are lucky, somewhere in that mix we can hold on to a tiny piece of a fairytale, allowing us to keep on dreaming and growing by our experiences

Happy New Year!

A little postscript: I was informed one of those courageous people I mentioned died. I knew her as Dee Dee. My heart is sad but I will go on always remembering her kindness that she showed my husaband and I. No matter his problems, she always made him feel valued and cared about. The sense of humor they shared together made his last months memorable. The quiet faith she and her husband shared with us at every nightly meal will stay in my heart forever. Look beyond the disability and find the heart. Dee Dee showed us hers. Rest in Peace Dee.