Tag Archives: Opinion

A Little Touch

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Controversy! No matter which way we turn, something new is thrown at us, and we move on without processing and solving yesterday’s news.

The Epstein Files. Having a few days of downtime with the sniffles I had time to process why I am so angry at those I know who don’t think it’s a big deal, don’t want to face it, or totally don’t believe anyone can do what is being described to another human being.

I am angry because of feelings I’ve pushed aside for much of my life. Things that happened early in my working life. No, I wasn’t raped or abused, but… I was sexually harassed, and at that time we didn’t have a name for it. Boys will be boys, or men will be men. We knew which salesman not to get into a room with at one workplace. We knew who was going to be touchy-feely. We might offer a rebuke, but it made no difference. If we had reported it, we would have been laughed at. Plus everyone knew, and the owner was just as guilty as some of his male employees, so it wasn’t addressed.

In the early days, sexual harassment didn’t just happen at the one workplace; there were others. We women kept quiet, it was discussed only between ourselves. The harassment wasn’t just bosses and co-workers; it was customers too. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence, yet it happened frequently. Today the talk is about setting up your boundaries, but in a man’s world, as it was back then, the only boundaries that were followed were to not get caught with a male colleague who we knew was sketchy.

Fast forward many years to when I was a computer technician. I had a great boss, no improprieties there with him. In all the years I worked on computers, I only found two computers with pornography on them. But I did nothing because privacy was key and I didn’t want to lose my job. Plus, back in those days, again, nothing would have been done had we reported it to the police. One offender was a man who didn’t surprise me. He exuded the personality when he walked in the door, not in his treatment of me, but in his stories that seemed at the time to be conspiracy theories. The other surprised me as he was a respected member of the community. They are both now dead, and it would serve no purpose to out them, and perhaps that’s why I didn’t, because of their families. Yet, had this happened today, I would report it. We had a duty to our customers regarding privacy. But…in the process of removing viruses, I might have removed some files. Viruses are amazing at wiping out files. However, I will always regret in my heart when I think back that I dismissed this as normal boys will be boys. That makes me part of the problem, which may be why it is still happening today, we all did that in those days.

When younger women in this decade complained about sexual harassment, at first my reaction was, deal with it, we did. I was wrong to believe that. A mindset such as that got us to the mess we are in today. I can’t believe Congress, and certain followers of political parties are sweeping widespread abuse under the rug or not addressing it, and putting perpetrators in jail. We haven’t progressed. It appears we have regressed.

I wonder where we would be if all of us in the early years had been adamant about changing the way the world addressed sexual harassment of not only women, but men too. Would it have changed the world if we had stood up? Or would we still be here fifty years later fighting a system that protects those who abuse women, children, and even young boys? We still do not believe the victims. Because of it, victims remain silent out of fear of retribution. The world is in the midst of a sex ring scandal, and yet, people don’t believe it or they want to ignore it, because they can’t handle the gory details. I think the victims would have liked to miss out on those details of what was done with them too.

All the victims of the sex trafficking rings were once tiny babies in a womb. The same people that want abortion banned because it is murder, are supporting this administration because of their stance on abortion, nothing else seems to matter. Those babies grow up to be kids, women, men and don’t they deserve protection too? Trafficking victim may also be murdered. Protect that baby in the womb from the mother, but their life doesn’t matter if you don’t agree, or like who they become, or if the color of their skin is different, and they are abused or discriminated against?

Do we turn off the news so we can ignore and not hear what is happening so it doesn’t make it our problem. Do you not listen to the victims because it is too gruesome and you think it can’t possibly be happening?

The House of Representatives recently voted down a bill that would release information on sexual misconduct and harassment against members of Congress. This was not just voted down by Republicans but Democrats too. Again, are the people making the rules keeping it silent because they themselves have something to hide, not only our leader? How can we be okay with that?

In Tennessee, there was a bill in the legislature to bring the death penalty to a woman who has an abortion. Isn’t that murder too if you put them to death? They murder a baby in the womb, so you kill them? Thankfully, the bill failed. It was defeated in a subcommittee on March 10, 2026. Tell me the difference of defining murder. Does it make a difference who is deciding who should live? It’s seems to be accepted when the government does it, such as the murder of a leader of another country, or school kids with different color skin in another country.

When are we going to say enough? When are we going to put an end to the boys will be boys? When are we going to accept this is happening and believe the victims? When are we going to stop our children from being kidnapped, or sold into the sex trafficking business by powerful individuals? The word has to be ENOUGH. ENOUGH, to the double standard for those women and people of different nationality and gender. I fear the Epstein Files are just going to go down in history as a blip on the radar, because we will move on to the next headline in the news that requires our attention.

The average Joe gets sentenced to prison for lesser sex crimes than what is happening in the Epstein Files, and they should, but so should the powerful who created a worldwide ring that preys on children, women, and even boys. What makes the rich and powerful exempt from their actions, except perhaps fear, or they have something we want in their votes in Congress. ENOUGH. They are being protected by their peers, and by those that still refuse to believe the information revealed could be perpetrated by people who they have revered as leaders. I am confused about the reasoning, but I am not confused by the excuses, leaving these people go free. And if they do, it is on all of us who excuse their behavior and have excused sexual harassment behavior over the years.

We have to decide. We have to decide what we define as murder. A baby that has not been born? A leader, who we know is a danger to society that we don’t like, so we take him out? A woman that has an abortion but is sentenced to death? A citizen who stands up for the rights of others who gets murdered in the street by a sanctioned government security source? What is the difference? One is right, and the other is wrong? Killing an unborn baby is wrong, but murdering someone who admittedly is a horrible person, and we don’t like and agree with is right? Especially if there is no imminent threat to our lives.

Our men and women in uniform don’t have a choice on the battlefield. They have to protect themselves and those around them. They don’t have a choice when they are sent into a war. It is an act that lives with them forever. They do it for their country. They risk their lives by order of the government of the United States to keep us all free. Don’t we owe it to all of them to come home to a country where citizens have equal rights no matter their skin color, or gender? Don’t we owe it to them to provide mental health services and healthcare? Don’t we owe it to them to protect women and children from sexual predators or abuse, no matter the status of those predators in society? The choice is yours. Will we forget about the Epstein Files so that we will be here again, and again, and again? We can protect unborn babies and protect those children and teenagers, and adults. It doesn’t have to be one or the other. This isn’t political, it is moral. It isn’t a Democrat or Republican issue. It is an American issue. It is a moral issue. Until we can agree on that and say ENOUGH, and look at it fairly and rationally, nothing will be solved. We should have done it a long time ago and we are all complicit in the fact we didn’t

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.

In the Waiting Room

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I have always been a writer. The hobby started as a child and was something my mom encouraged. She was big on documentation. I certainly believed that after she died, and I inherited all the paperwork detailing things in her long life. The paper paraphernalia weren’t always appreciated, but after she left us, those writings became more precious.

My documentation started as a diary in my early youth, in my middle years journaling, and finally as an older adult, a column called Something About Nothing in the Albert Lea Tribune. That was I think, a twelve year gig. Technology changed from writing a column to this blog.

Recently I began looking back through my journals and they were helpful in reviewing my life, bringing back memories and seeing where I have grown, and where I have been stuck. Writing and journaling has always been a way to get my feelings out and to process them, many times letting of what I was upset about because I released it in word on paper without exploding at anyone. The times I didn’t journal are the moments I wrongly exploded at people including my husband and children.

Since our life with Alzheimer’s has begun I have shared with you the ups and downs. I’ve laid bare my feelings and emotions risking the backlash and disapproval of some. It was my way of coping and as I have received wisdom from others writings I wanted to share my experiences to let readers know they are not alone. I have heard from so many of you the life path we share. We have a choice to stay private or to put our hearts out there for all to see.

Thinking back to the times I’ve sat by bedsides of my family, and those acquaintances in the nursing home where it was at one time my job to comfort people in their last hours, I believe it never gets easier no matter how frequent you’ve been in that last waiting room with someone.

Each person’s last journey is different, which makes your own experience unique. It impacts wives, children and friends in separate ways, though they are with the same person. If each person at a bedside sat down and wrote their feelings each perspective would not be the same.

The waiting room. Minutes and seconds tick off on the clock. The first person whose death I witnessed was my cousin Ervin. He was in the hospital and we came to visit. My aunt, his mother, and also his wife were there. He took a quick turn for the worse and we knew he would go to a better place soon. My aunt asked if my husband and I would stay with them. I wanted to run out of the room and go home but felt we had to stay. I had never seen anyone die before and I was scared of my reaction, and instead of being a comfort, I would be a problem. I need not have worried. I held it together and kept my aunt close and my cousins death was peaceful.

A few years later my mom called me to be with my uncle, my dad’s brother. My mom left and he got worse. I was left with the choice of life support. I knew he didn’t want that and he had lived his life. I was there when he too left this earth.

There have been other occasions to sit with my loved ones on a final journey. It is never easy. It is never the same. It is never where I want to be. Yet, I have felt the presence of God. I have felt the presence of angels or messengers or whatever you want to call them and have seen the faces of my loved ones smile in welcome. Sometimes the waiting room lasts for weeks, or it might be hours or days. It is never easy but it is what you do for someone you love

That isn’t always the experience of everyone but that has been mine. My mother had a glowing smile on her face while she was in the waiting room. I asked her what she was smiling about and she answered, “Because I’m going to see your dad, my mom and dad and my brothers soon.”

Those words gave me peace. I don’t pretend to understand what happens while our loved ones are in the waiting room. And I have no explanation why some leave this earth easy and why some have to struggle so much.

Life is full of puzzles. When serious things are happening our emotions can get jumbled. We don’t see things clearly. All we can do is wait for the outcome no matter the situation. We can’t see the forest for the trees. We begin our life in the waiting room waiting to be born. And we occasionally end our life in the waiting room too.

For me sharing the journey through journaling and writing helps me sort out all those confusing moments preparing us for the next journey, or the waiting room where we can be silent and find our next path.