Family Matters

They are our fathers, our mothers, our grandparents, our history.

In the course of my day, I have occasion to visit a variety of nursing homes where I am confronted with the inevitability of aging. These residences vary in cleanliness, amenities, and staff commitment. But through all, one thing remains constant: the residents, themselves.

Their faces are tired, worn, etched deeply with experience and often, hardship. Their bodies and minds have betrayed them, leaving them pale shadows of their former selves.

If they are lucky, they are engaged by well-intentioned yet overworked staff. If they aren’t lucky, they are stacked in forgotten corners like so many unread books: full of stories and life if one only took the time and trouble to open them up.

Outside each resident’s room is a showcase of sorts for displaying their respective memorabilia. Taking the time to peruse the photographic memories of days long gone by, you are reminded that these people were once vital, vibrant members of society who made an impact on the world. They had children and friends and lovers and successes and failures.

Not a visit passes where I don’t find myself choked up at the sight of pleading, hopeful eyes; frantic waves; sometimes haunting wails. I offer what little I can: a smile, a wave, a kind word. Sometimes it’s all I can do to get out of there without breaking down.

What lessons do I take from these visits? I suppose I see a possible future reflected in their desperate eyes. Maybe I am spurred on not to take life for granted, that I should make the most of the time I have in the world.

Mostly, I offer a plea of my own: that those who have family in these homes will not leave them to fade away unremarked. Spend some time with them, even if it is just to share the warmth of physical contact. Tell them a story. Ask them theirs. Get to know your history. One day it could be you in there and you would be glad that somebody took the trouble to remember your life…

Hidden Treasure

There is a special place one finds only at the end of a perfect weekend - after the wining, after the dining, after the swaying, after the ice-cream.

It’s a place surprisingly not too far off the beaten track yet seemingly untouched by the sounds and struggles of the city.

A place where waves gently kiss the rocks; where geese and ducks and otters happen by with casual familiarity; a place where memories go to cement their position in the albums of the mind; a place marked by emotion where all can be said with a caress.

I cannot tell you the location of this haven since it is unique to each person. Suffice to say that for a brief moment in time, I found that place and have made a promise to my soul to one day return.

We should all be so lucky...

Optimist, Pessimist or Realist?

Some people see the glass as half full. Others see it as half empty. Me, I just wonder who's been drinking my bloody drink!

The Return of The Lone Monkey!

As you may (or may not) have noticed, I’ve been away for quite awhile. At first it was a general apathy: lack of incendiary subject matter plus a belief that no one was really reading this blog anyway.

Then there was a personal setback, namely the dissolution of my relationship with The Geeky Cat. It came as quite a shock to me so there was a certain amount of necessary analytical navel-gazing and rehashing of events in my mind, trying to make sense of the situation and going through the inevitable stages of rebuilding one’s self esteem and eventually, looking to the future toward the signposts of hope.

But I won’t go into detail. Almost everyone has their own experiences in this field and each is unique. All that needs to be said is that I am back with a renewed vigor and hopefully, some subjects of interest.

To wit: Vegansexuals!

The term was coined by Annie Potts (not of TV’s “Designing Women”), the co-director of the New Zealand Centre for Human and Animal Studies at Canterbury University in New Zealand, after she had conducted research on the lives of "cruelty-free consumers". According to Potts, Vegansexuals are people who do not eat any meat or animal products and who choose not to be sexually intimate with non-vegan partners whose bodies, they say, are made up of dead animals.

Apparently, some of the female respondents admitted to being attracted to male carnivores but drew the line at sexual intimacy because their bodies “were made up of animal carcasses”. (When you put it like that it’s not exactly an aphrodisiac…)

Having been in a relationship with a vegetarian, I noticed no such extremes. In fact, it opened my epicurean tastes to a whole new world. But I suppose that with any extreme philosophy, logic doesn’t always walk hand in hand. I mean, whether we adhere to a strict vegan (or vegetarian) diet or not, we’re still animals. And yes, apparently what you eat can (how can I put this delicately) affect the “flavour” of bodily fluids. But I suppose the bottom line is that it all comes down to a matter of personal taste (pun intended).

This also brings to mind other diverse philosophies which may give rise to relationship incompatibility. For instance, I always find it fascinating that people of differing political views see this as a relationship deal-breaker (perhaps more so in the U.S.). There is also the issue of smokers and non-smokers. Can they exist happily in coupled bliss?

Perhaps (if there are actually any of you reading this) you could send me your comments on relationship incompatibilities that you’ve experienced. And if you want to read the article on Vegansexuals, click here.