Who’s stealing the photos?

I just spent a few days with my 94 year-old mother. She has a very nice apartment in a beautiful assisted living facility about 4 hours south of where I live. We’re coming up on the first anniversary of my dad’s death and she is still very sad and very lonely, so my siblings and I do our best to ease her burdens.

For the past couple of months, my mom has been obsessive about her photo albums. She keeps telling us that someone is taking her pictures.

I’ve had this discussion with her at least 20 times, as has my brother who lives about 15 minutes away and sees her several times a week. I always say that I don’t know what’s happening to her pictures and point out that she still has thousands of photos, spanning all of her life and even some from before she was born.

The truth is that over many decades, things get misplaced or we’ve removed a photo here and there for various  celebrations and photo compilations. Or maybe one of us just liked a photo and snagged it for our own memory. Who knows, but it’s a frustrating déjà vu every time I arrive, to be grilled as to “who is taking all of my pictures?”

This last trip, she sent me home with a little album of photos from my wedding. This was after she made me promise that I wouldn’t throw them ‘in the trash’. I assured her that I would not. I told her that they mean as much to me as they do to her. But, that wasn’t quite true.

It’s not true because I finally realized that her obsession with the photos isn’t about the photos. It’s about proof that her life was as full and happy as she believes that it was. These volumes of thousands of photos are what she has left of her life. They are photographic evidence that she and my dad had 70+ years of love and happiness and family.

Having spent a fair amount of time around elderly folks over the past few years, I have seen how their lives shrink as their mobility and abilities shrink. At this point, my mom’s life takes place in a two bedroom apartment. The things in that apartment are of paramount importance to her. She is surrounded by what is familiar and that is her only comfort.

The photos are part of that. They represent the time when her world was big and full and juicy. Photos of parents, children, grandchildren, siblings, friends, family, houses, cars, many, many trips and vacations. Photos of people who are long dead and photos of grandchildren, who now have their own children. She looks through the albums and admits to me that she can’t remember many of the names that go with the hundreds of faces. She often can’t remember ‘which kid belonged to which other kid’.

But, she knows that these people were in her life at some point in the past 94 years. She sees photos of my smiling and handsome Dad and is assured that they were happy and loving and that he really was by her side, as her partner, for 72 years.

We all need this reassurance. That we matter. That we loved and were loved. That we’re here for a reason and that when we’re gone, someone will remember.

You have changed me…

Since announcing my retirement from The Dom and Jane Show earlier this week, my inbox has been full of well-wishes and very kind notes. I sort of feel as if I’m being allowed to attend my own funeral.

I’ve had a job in the public eye for over 30 years, which is the majority of my adult life. I do not consider myself famous by any stretch, but on any given day, several hundred thousand people tune into our show. Some love it, some hate it and anyone who is in the public eye, soon learns that the ones who are angry, disappointed or flat-out pissed, are usually the ones who are motivated to reach out.

For many years, those kinds of letters, emails, phone calls and now Facebook messages, penetrated pretty deeply for me. In my job as a radio host, I’ve been judged and critiqued by listeners, co-workers, consultants, clients, friends, family and occasionally, people who’ve never even heard my shows (“Ugh, I can’t stand anything on the radio that isn’t NPR”).

So, even though I’ve been successful and the Dom and Jane Show exceeded my wildest professional expectations, many of us who work in the media can be a little shell-shocked because we mostly hear from people who don’t like us. That’s why the past week has been so incredible.

The amount of love and appreciation that’s been sent my way has filled my spirit with a great deal of gratitude. I love that our show and my participation has had such a positive effect on people. I’ve heard from so many who listened for years with their kids on the way to school, from people who got a few laughs that eased whatever sorrow or pain they were dealing with and from so many who said they were sad that I was leaving, then told me to go forth and enjoy the rest of my life.

I’ve been so touched by the personal stories of how our show was a part of so many lives and it added a dimension to many of you, that I really didn’t quite understand over the years. We sit in a studio and talk to a void and there are times, I’m embarrassed to admit, that we forget that you’re out there. We can tend to get a little full of our selves.

You told me that you think of our little radio show as ‘family’ and that really touched me, since I know you all have real families and how much they mean to you, so to be included is a gift and one that I may not have treasured as I should have. You all have dreams and hurts and problems and crises and joy and tragedy and triumph and there may have been times when I didn’t celebrate or mourn those with you, even though you celebrated and empathized with me as I struggled with these same universal human issues.

So, thank you. Thank you for the lovely notes, for the funny and sometimes, sad memories, for reaching out to lift me up during kind of an emotional and precarious time as I stand on the edge of a huge life change. Anything that The Dom and Jane Show may have given you, you have repaid me a thousand times over.

As I head into my last 5 shows, I will do so with a full heart, knowing that I made an impact on you and more importantly, you made an impact on me.

I’m successful…I think

I’m thinking about success.  What is it? How do we define it? How do we achieve it?

This is on the heels of the radio show that I co-host winning another Morning Show of the Year award from the Colorado Broadcasters Association.  It’s great to be recognized for excellence; it’s what we strive for and once we get there, it feels pretty good. Success.

But, I think that that we put professional success on a pretty high pedestal.  I’ve spent the better part of my adult life working toward professional and financial success, while letting the personal stuff slide.  Over past couple of years I’ve begun to ratchet back my hunger for professional growth in order to grow personally and spiritually.

I know that a lot of people have managed to tie the two together.   Okay, a FEW people have been able to do that.  The rest of us read their books and wish we could manage that kind of balance.

Personally, I think that trying to integrate professional and personal success is nearly impossible; it’s the big lie.  Something has to give.  Professional success requires that the job comes first. Period. Your allegiance is to the folks who write the check.  That’s the way it works in our country, for better or for worse.

Put your needs or your family’s needs first and you are seen as ‘not a team player’.  You’re ‘not committed’.  You’re told to ‘get your priorities straight’, meaning work is first.  Work is all.  Your family and personal life will just have to wait.

I understand these requirements. I get that businesses must make a profit and that business success relies on productive and committed employees.  However, I also know that people are not machines and that a personally happy employee is a professional asset.

Maybe I can question the American definition of success because by most measures, I’ve achieved it. I’ve had a long and ultimately successful career as a radio host because years ago, I committed myself fully to that goal.  I’ve done well financially and have managed to build a decent nest egg.

But, I still struggle personally.  I battle guilt, insecurity, loneliness.  I worry about growing old and who will help me do that with grace and dignity.  I feel like my marriage is in a dangerously stagnant period and I’m not sure how to pull us out of the quicksand.  Success?

On the other hand, everyone struggles, don’t they?  Life is full of challenges and in the greater scheme of things, I’ve done okay.  But, I feel like I’m not successful in the ways that really count.   The success of the soul.

Maybe the word “success” is wrong.  It sounds so definitive; so black and white.  Maybe other words would help define what I’m seeking.  Peace, meaning, acceptance, clarity, truth, wisdom.  They are all softer, gentler words, aren’t they?

Fill me in.  What is success to you?  Teach me.

More on letting go…

It’s nearly Christmas and for the first time in probably 15 years, I’ll be spending it with my family.  More specifically, with my 93 year-old parents.

While I’m looking forward to it, part of me dreads it.  My mom is getting foggier and my dad is finally starting to slow down.  The way to face your own mortality is to witness your parents’ aging process.

Spending time with them makes me grateful and uncomfortable; it’s a jumble of emotions.  Tenderness, irritation, impatience, grace, humor, clarity, guilt, love, regret.  Merry Christmas, eh?

I think that most of us are conflicted about our families, particularly if you left home and hometown, when you were young.  When we return to the nest, we return and revert to our family ‘roles’.  But, as our parents age, that doesn’t work any longer.  We take on new roles as caretakers, helpers and decision makers.  And that’s hard.

My parents still live on their own, in their house on 5 acres.  In the past couple of years, we’ve bought them a generator to get through the various storms that plague the Midwest.  We’ve encouraged them to think about downsizing into a retirement/assisted living facility.  This means that every time we visit, we’re sent home with a lot of ‘stuff’; some of it ours, much of it theirs that they can’t bear to throw away.

We all collect so much over the years; not just physical, but emotional, including a lot of scar tissue.  There comes a time to let it go.  To wish it well and send it on its way.  The last year has taught me much about letting go.

We moved and I said goodbye to a home and a place that I loved.  We’re in a whole new environment a couple of time zones away from the old life.  New people, new climate, new lifestyle, new city, new values, new problems.

We said goodbye to my beautiful and very much loved dog, Chili.  One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.  I’m still aching over that loss.

So, I have empathy for my elderly parents.  They are letting go of 93 years of memories, things, comfort, security.  Very hard for them and for us as their children.

Sometimes things are ripped from us, when we least expect it and sometimes it’s a long, painful, introspective process.  Either way, we eventually lose everything that we love and hold close.  The human condition.  Our biggest fear and our constant companion.  It is truth.

And so, I look forward to Christmas with the family and will remain in close contact with my sense of humor in dealing with this phase of life.  That’s something my parents, particularly my mom, instilled in me; in all of us.

I’ll also dig deep into my limited well of patience and understanding.  I’m somewhat deficient in those qualities and the past 6 months has unfortunately drained me even more.

But, I’m grateful. To be back in my home state, close to my parents, with a new life and home and puppy, while retaining some of the former life that has been so hard to release.

Be well.  Remember to be kind.  Surround yourselves with who and what you love during this holiday season.