Dad gets his final wish...

A small note: If you haven’t lost someone close to you, this story may strike you as tasteless. If so, I apologize. For those of you who have been through it, I hope you can appreciate the morbid humor of the situation... Melinda

My mom passed away on Christmas Eve, 2007. 

On Dec. 26, 2007, my father, sister and I went to the cremation society to deal with my mother’s remains. The funeral director was straight out of central casting: dishwater-colored hair, pasty skin, wire-rim glasses, weak handshake, ill-fitting suit. He was trying to up-sell us on a fancy urn and my father piped up that a cardboard box would be just be fine. 

Absolutely appalled, my sister and I interrupted that our mother would most definitely not have her ashes placed in a cardboard box. We didn't need the deluxe urn, but we would be picking out a nice, pretty urn for her.

Our dad acceded to our wishes (and I really have to believe it was his grief talking), but added that when his time came he would be perfectly happy to have his ashes in a cardboard box....so maybe it wasn't the grief.

My sister and I looked at each other, then looked at dad and Carl and said, “Can we please deal with one dead parent at a time?” 

Flash forward to today, 12 days after my father’s death. In the intervening years, Dad and my sister had talked and instead of a cardboard box, he had decided that his ashes would go into an ice bucket that his groomsmen gave him when he married mom. It’s a beautiful silver bucket with the date of their wedding and the names of all the groomsmen inscribed on it. 

Today, I go to the Cremation Society to drop off the bucket so that Dad’s ashes can be put in it. The ice bucket will be inurned in a niche in a mausoleum beside mom’s urn. Jeannie and I had also picked out two small “memory urns” earlier, so we will have some of Dad’s ashes for us to scatter where we choose.

Ada, who has replaced Carl, takes the ice bucket but returns a few minutes later to tell me that there is too much of Dad to fit into the ice bucket and into the two urns.  I knew he was larger than life, but I guess he’s larger than death too. Perhaps not thinking it through, I ask if we have to take all of him, and she says that it’s the law and that we must. 

She then brings me the ice bucket, the two memory urns, and the rest of dad, evenly divided for my sister and me, in— wait for it— two cardboard boxes.

Somehow, even in death, he got his wish. My sister and I have been shaking our heads, laughing about it all day. You go, Dad. 

Today’s $10 goes to the Salvation Army. For several years, instead of buying each other Christmas presents, my parents would take the money they would have spent on each other and would make a donation to the Salvation Army. 

Dec. 23: The Salvation Army

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"As is"....

(Today's guest blog is by my dear friend, Phyllis Stark, about her Aunt Kathryn, a woman who handled her burdens with an unimaginable grace. It's a beautiful story about the power of family and a reminder to accept what the day brings on its own terms, which was something I really needed to hear today. - Melinda)

It’s hard to imagine getting a diagnosis more devastating than being told you have ALS. Also known as “Lou Gehrig’s Disease,” ALS is a cruel and terrifying malady. A progressive neurodegenerative disease, it affects nerve cells in the brain and the spinal cord, causing gradual loss of muscle movement—including speech—eventual paralysis and death.

But for one remarkable woman, my Aunt Kathryn, an ALS diagnosis provided an opportunity to live life to the fullest. Before her death last year, Kathryn lived with ALS for a remarkable 14 years, and became an inspiring role model for everyone around her.

Well into her diagnosis, Kathryn was still sculpting pottery and writing poetry. When her hands stopped working but she still had her voice, she’d share her ideas with her pottery teacher, who would then hold Kathryn’s hands in place so she could continue to create. When her voice gave out and her only remaining movement was in her eyes, she used special computer equipment to write three volumes of poetry, forming words and phrases entirely through her eye movements. Common themes of her poetry were care giving, patience and the joys of life.

While she regretted each physical diminishment, she never mourned its loss. Kathryn never complained about her disease, and always found some joyful reason for waking up in the morning. She adopted the motto “as is,” also the title of one of her poems. A magnet she made for me with that motto on it sits in a spot on my refrigerator and serves as a daily reminder of her courage. My father has adopted the same motto for his own battle with Parkinson’s Disease.

A brilliant college math professor, Kathryn was blessed with beauty, athleticism, and a happy marriage to my Uncle Gerry. She was the mother of four accomplished children, and grandmother of 10.

Throughout her illness, Kathryn continued to do the things she loved, including eating in restaurants—even after she had to be fed—and traveling. She never let pride get in the way of living life. When travel was no longer feasible, the equally remarkable Gerry planned a week where they “visited” a different country every day. He’d bring home music and movies from each country on their “itinerary,” and then take her to a corresponding ethnic restaurant for dinner each night.

When she wanted to dance at her youngest son’s wedding, Gerry put her feet on his—as a father might with a young child—and danced her around the floor.

She felt a kinship with dragonflies because she said they provided a “glimmer of immortality,” and she featured dragonfly themes often in her pottery. She loved the ocean, and long after she couldn’t walk her sons would carry her into the surf every summer so she could feel the water and waves. After her death, her family scattered some of her ashes in the sea. When they returned to the spot on the beach where they’d left their belongings, a dragonfly was hovering nearby.

Kathryn and Gerry were extremely active in the Greater Philadelphia chapter of the ALS Association and were instrumental in the annual Walk To Defeat ALS, organizing the Kathryn’s Krew team that continues to bring in significant dollars for the charity, now in Kathryn’s memory. This year’s walk was held Nov. 3 at Citizen’s Bank Park in Philadelphia.

As my mother wrote in a eulogy she read at Kathryn’s funeral, “Instead of embracing sadness, anger or self-pity, she miraculously found a way to find joy and purpose in every ordinary day.” May we all strive to do the same.

Dec. 9: ALS Association

(Ali Nielsen, ALS Association, 312 Norristown Road, Ste. 260, Ambler, PA 19002

In memo line please write “Kathryn’s Krew”) 

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33 Years Ago...

I don’t know what I’m having the harder time with: The fact that John Lennon was murdered 33 years ago today or that I’m old enough to remember exactly where I was when I heard the news. I don't even feel like I'm 33. 

It still seems inconceivable, doesn’t it? I think that was the first death where I remember what I was doing when I heard. I have clearer memories of that than when my grandmother died. It was all we could talk about in class. It felt like he had been ripped from us and it really, really hurt. 

He was 40 when he died. That seemed old to me at the time, but now that I’m past that, I feel how clearly time robbed him. He had so much more music to make and so much to contribute through his humanitarian work, not to mention as a parent. 

Or at least that’s how it feels, but maybe he had finished all he was put on earth here to do. His music lives on forever and so much of the good work he did continues to flourish through Yoko Ono and his two children. 

As we head into the season, below is one of my favorite Lennon songs- year round. I loved the line about “without any fear.” When I was growing up and heard the song, I would hear that line and think, “how did he know we’re afraid?” I realize now he was talking about a much greater global fear, but that line spoke to be directly and the song still does. 

I’ve given to the charities most closely associated with Lennon already, so today’s $10 goes to Free Arts NYC, an organization supported by Yoko Ono that encourages artful expression by children, including a mentoring program, a parents and children together program, a museum and studio visit program and other cultural enrichment programs. 

Dec. 8. Free Arts NYC

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"Nelson Mandela has finished his journey..."

How fortunate to have been alive at the same time as Nelson Mandela. I think about other heroes who accomplished remarkable things and most of them were before my time or I was so small I have no memory. 

But with Mr. Mandela, we were all alive to bear witness to his changing the world. I remember when he was released from prison in 1990, and how he forgave his guards at Robben Island. That was the first time I truly understood the power of forgiveness and how you bestow it for yourself as much as for those you are forgiving; the act frees you of your anger and resentment. There’s a saying that I can’t fully recall, but it’s about how forgiveness is finally fully realizing that you can’t change the past and you no longer try to.

Of course, he went on to abolish apartheid with F.W. de Klerk and to become president of South Africa, a feat that was as remarkable as it had been impossible only a few years before. 

I’ve read a number of comments from dignitaries today, but for some reason, this simple sentence from South African a capella group Ladysmith Black Mambazo struck me as the truest: “The Father of our nation, Nelson Mandela, has finished his journey...” 

He’d been in poor health for years and was probably ready to go awhile ago, but we weren’t ready for him to. But now his journey is complete and he leaves his legacy for all to study and learn from for decades to come. And we were here to watch it in real time. What an incredible gift.

A few of my favorite Mandela quotes: 

“No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love.” 

“Overcoming poverty is not a task of charity, it is an act of justice.”

 “For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.”

“I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.”

“It always seems impossible until it is done.”

Dec. 5: Nelson Mandela Children’s Fund

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The Meanness Epidemic

I don’t know if I’m just more sensitive because I’m tired from traveling back from Raleigh today, but it’s one of those days where I feel very out of sync with other people. What some of them find amusing, I just find cruel and out-and-out mean. 

You may be aware of the first example since it made the rounds on social media. On Thanksgiving, a number of sites began running a story about a producer, “Elan,”  from “The Bachelor,” who decided to teach a whiner on his Thanksgiving flight a thing or two. Apparently, after their original flight was delayed, a woman, “Diane,” began berating the airline personnel and letting everyone know that she really had to make her connecting flight.  In other words, according to Elan, she was acting as if it was her own personal Thanksgiving and she was the only one inconvenienced by the delay. Once they were in the air, Elan sent her a glass of wine  and some vodka with a note saying, “Hopefully, if you drink it, you won’t be able to use your mouth to talk. Love, Elan.” 

She wrote him back a tame note to let him know she didn’t think he was funny. Elan wrote back saying that she needed to treat the flight attendants nicer and signed it, “I hate you very much. Eat my dick.” She write back an appalled note and he escalated it further, sending another note about eating his dick. She slapped him when she got off the plane and he was gleeful that she did, indeed, miss her connection, but decided not to press assault charges.

I found her behavior, if Elan was to be believed, distasteful, but I found his reaction repugnant and he was the villain in the story to me. But not to a lot of people. Some of my Facebook friends called Elan a hero, as did people in comments sections on websites. And a huge amount of people thought what he did was hilarious. What? Under the guise of sticking up for the workers, he was simply bullying this woman. I don’t understand in any way, shape or form how what he did was acceptable behavior, much less, heroic. Today he admitted the whole thing was a hoax and he hoped that he made us laugh over the holiday. All I hope is that I never meet him in person.

Then, today someone posted a link to a gallery called “The 30+ Ugliest Former Child Stars.” I’m not clicking on it because I find the whole thing so hateful. What is the point? Am I supposed to feel better about myself if I look at the gallery and see a child actor who was adorable as a tot and now looks like a regular normal person?  Even in my lowest moments of self esteem, I don’t think that would make me feel better about myself or about anything. 

Sometimes, in my more vulnerable moments, I think I don’t have the same sense of humor as most people and maybe that’s why I feel like a stranger in a strange land occasionally.  And then I get down on myself for taking it all so seriously, but I honestly do believe that Elan and the creator of the gallery  put some seriously negative energy out into the universe...and why would you want to do that?  Life is plenty hard without creating things like that. 

That brings me to Paul Walker, the actor who died in a horrific car accident on Saturday. On my flight back today, I’d already decided I wanted to donate to his charity, Reach Out Worldwide. Here was someone who, through his volunteering, saw a need to get first responders to disaster areas, so he used his star power to start a charity that did just that. Formed only 3 years ago, it already looked like the organization was having a real impact.  He died after leaving a ROWW fundraiser for Philippine typhoon victims. ROWW’s webpage has nothing about Walker’s death, instead its home page is about the world the organization and its partners are doing around the world, which is somehow, how it should be.

But even Walker’s death isn’t escaping the meanies. Someone I know has taken exception to the media using the word “tragedy” to describe his death. I don’t even understand the reason for the irritation, but I’m willing to bet that this is a tragedy to his 15-year old daughter and to his friends.  When did we become so sanctimonious and so unfeeling? Is kindness no longer a response that we should even expect? For Paul Walker it wasn’t.

Dec. 2: Reach Out Worldwide

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The story of a beautiful, beautiful boy and his lasting legacy

(This blog was co-written by Allison Finkelstein and my sister Jeannie Newman. There are some losses that seem insurmountable to me, such as losing a child. That happened to Allison and Mark and they took that horrific tragedy and have used their experience to make it easier for anyone who goes through such a loss after them. They honor David's life every day as his spirit touches everyone they help-Melinda)

Allison and I met almost 30 years ago when we worked at the Bank of Boston and have been close friends ever since. One of my most exciting times was when she called me to let me know that she and her husband, Mark, were going to have twins! I remember one great trip when Mark had to be out of town close to the babies’ due date, so they flew me to Ohio to stay with Allison; we feasted on food delivered by Take-Out Taxi and held a movie marathon. I so loved holding beautiful David and Jennifer when they were born and cuddling them as they grew. They called me Nee-Nee, and all my work colleagues knew about my beloved godbabies.

When he was 2 ½ years old, David died very suddenly and unexpectedly. To say that we were all in profound shock was an understatement.  As Jennifer has grown into an incredible 17 year old (today is their birthday), exhibiting both brains and beauty, I have loved getting to know the wonderful young woman she is becoming. I loved working with her to develop background for her character in mock trial (her team ended up 5^th in the state) and rehearsing lines with her for her many school performances. Almost two years after David’s death, Elisabeth was born. She is a delightful, happy little girl who happens to have special needs. To say she enjoys life is an understatement, and I love getting to know my Lissy.  But I confess that I also always wonder what David would have been like through each stage of childhood and adolescence. Would we have stayed close? What activities would he have liked to do?  At which colleges would he be looking?

As awful as losing a child is, I really admire how Allison and Mark used this tragedy to help others. In her own words:

Right after David's death, as people were asking what could they do, where could they donate, should they send flowers, etc., we knew that we wanted to do something that was more permanent and could possibly lead to something positive from this horrible experience.  It could also be a way to honor and memorialize his too-short life.  Because David was so young, we didn't have his special interests as a guide (unless you include touching STOP signs!).  And without a known cause of death, we couldn't even address that.  But we were able to learn about various about children’s' causes, so we created the David Samuel Finkelstein Memorial Foundation with that focus.  For example, we started with simple things like David's Room, a private room in the perinatal area of our local hospital where parents could meet with the doctors and counselors and deal privately with devastating news regarding their pregnancies (until then, they literally had nowhere to go, other than back out into the waiting room, because of a lack of space).  We also supplied car seats to a local church so that they could take their preschoolers on field trips.  As a result of Elisabeth's issues, we have also supported a therapeutic horseback riding center and sponsor scholarships every year to a local camp for children with epilepsy.  

The biggest focus of our foundation has evolved over time as we have changed.  We see the impact that David's death has had on Jennifer (as well as on her sister who never even met him), so we wanted to do something to help those kids who have lost someone (be it a parent, sibling, grandparent, other relative, or close friend).  For the last 7 years, we've been giving out college scholarships to graduating high school students in our school district who have lost a loved one.  The only criterion for this scholarship money is that the students write an essay about the loss of a loved one and its impact on them and on their choices (in terms of school, career, and/or personal choices).  Every year, Mark (and now Jennifer) present the scholarships to the recipients, and we have been overwhelmed by their responses.  Each has an amazing story to tell and shows resilience and the desire to make a difference and to live life to the fullest as a result of what they have gone through.  A number of them have told us how much more personal this scholarship is to them— it is another validation of their experiences and a recognition of how it has changed them and how they intend to live going forward.  They will never be the same, but it is comforting to know that they are not alone in what they have experienced.

-Allison Finkelstein and Jeannie Newman

Nov. 7: The David Samuel Finkelstein Memorial Foundation 

To donate, send checks to: 

Fidelity Charitable Gift Fund
David Samuel Finkelstein Memorial Foundation (in the memo line)
439 Landings Loop West
Westerville, Ohio 43082

Jellyfish are taking over the world

I didn’t need today’s story on CNN to tell me that jellyfish are taking over our beaches. 

When I was at Topsail Island in September, I had to watch where I put my feet when walking on the shore for fear of accidentally stepping on a jellyfish. I’d never seen as many at one time before. I luckily didn’t see any when I was in the water, but when I was on the pier, would look down in the waves and see them. 

So, apparently, this was not isolated. According to CNN, beaches the world over are overrun with the stinging creatures because of overfishing and climate change. In Hawaii, there have been days when 1,000 people were stung in one day caught in jellyfish clusters or “blooms.” 

And it’s not just humans that are having issues. Incredibly, last month so many jellyfish got inside a nuclear plant in Sweden, leading operators to shut down the reactor. In Ireland a jellyfish bloom stung thousands of salmon to death. 

Most of the jellyfish species in North America are harmless, despite the pain of the sting. Not so elsewhere. The big box jellyfish is Australia is one of the world’s most poisonous creatures, following by a jellyfish the size of a thimble. That doesn’t seem like a fair fight. 

The scientist interviewed in the CNN story doesn't see any way back from the jellyfish explosion. That's not good news for those of us who love nothing better than swimming in the ocean.

This jellyfish and my feet almost had a fateful meeting at the beach. I don't know if they can still sting if you step on them when they're dead, but I'm glad I didn't find out.

Nov. 4: Ocean Conservancy