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Twenty-Nineteen, here I come.

Too many really good people are sitting on the sidelines watching so many others who should really be sidelined.

We view screens as windows into the lives of others and we only participate in real change— and real living— voyeuristically.

We view the world from our sofas.

We pontificate in 140 characters or less.

We repost and retweet instead of saying #Amen.

We merely like 👍🏾  and rarely love.

We text “Happy Birthday” to close friends and make comments on complete strangers’ posted pics with words like #Amazing & #Fantastic.

Have metal phones and crystal screens made us plastic people?

I understand the lure of social media…I am a fellow junkie.

It’s like time-travel…

It feels omniscient…

It allows us to finally keep up with people we don’t care about while ignoring those we say we really do care about.

Twenty-Nineteen, here I come.

I want to spread my wings this year, and not just my thumbs.

I want to leave the house every so often, without my phone, and not have a panic attack.

I want to glue my eyes to the needs and beauty of the world around me, and not just my screen of the latest post that distracts me from true beauty.

Virtual is not always a virtue.

The two are certainly not necessarily mutually inclusive.

Perhaps we need a real reality check and not merely a virtual reality check.

I feel a need to occasionally escape my parallel universe of being here and there, simultaneously.

I see, and too often, participate in parallel universes.

I text while I drive because I feel the need to be in two places…universes…at the same time.

We sit in this meeting, with these people, but we text those people in that other meeting, as if we can’t ever stand being where we are.

We wake up with phones in hand.

We go to the bathroom with phones in hand.

We text people who are sitting six feet away from us rather than speaking to them.

We drive with phones in hand.

I occasionally see couples who sit in restaurants across from each other – with phones in hand.

I even see people on Sundays who worship with phones in hand.

We have three thousand Facebook friends, but we eat alone.

We have five thousand Twitter followers, but we claim no one has our back.

We follow trends, but what’s trending in our lives is emptiness and fear.

And because our smartphones have become our virtual ventriloquist dummies, people ignorantly text and tweet and repost things and words we would never dare say to others. Because…they didn’t really say it…it was merely a tweet. Right?

And although technology makes our memories shorter…it has a very long and very good memory! Just ask famous people who, years ago, stupidly posted thoughts which have come back to haunt them as star athletes, entertainers or professional.

Twenty-Nineteen, here I come.

I need more escapes in 2019.

I need more walks with my wife.

I need more talks with my daughter.

I need more meals with my mother.

I need more laughs with my sister.

I need more guys trips with my friends.

I need more trips with my nieces and nephews.

I need more unplugged beauty in my life that isn’t virtual, but real.

Look out Twenty-Nineteen, here I come.

Unplugged more often…

Unhinged less often…

More engaged…

Less distracted…

More present…

Greater clarity…

More fulfillment…

Realized destiny…

Reengagement of old friends…

Availability to new ones…

I’m a technological junkie, hence I write with quite a bit of trepidation. Notwithstanding, the brightness of my future requires a focus and a lucidity that cannot necessarily be illuminated with the backlight of my iPhoneX.

I know that my destiny is not virtual…therefore my approach to obtaining it cannot be either. It must be real and actual.

I know so many brilliant people out there. I’d rather see posts of your dreams than your deep fried lunches. Please post pics of how you are living out your purpose and not just your meal or latest hairdo.

Social media is filled with the haters and drainers of our dreams. If we are to shake off the haters, we might need to squelch their voices as well. With all the virtual chatter, we’re virtually left with little energy to create a destiny worth posting about.

Social media isn’t bad—unless it is numbing your creativity, muting your voice, enhancing your procrastination, limiting your scope or belittling your effectiveness. 

Our world is hurting and divided and cold. I can understand why we’d want to hideout in virtuality. However, our best selves and best thoughts are needed in order to create businesses, solve problems, build bridges, help others and enjoy life.

If virtual reality is solely a mere escape from reality, then it is no longer virtual reality, but an actual death.

Death of creativity.

Death of planning. 

And death to real relationships that could offer a viable solution if we weren’t so virtually preoccupied.

My resolution is to be more resolute and more present in 2019 — actually.

Ttyl

Alex

P.S. And anyone who contends to send me those “Let’s keep it going by forwarding  this to ten other people…” gets deleted to virtual hell immediately!

My Mom Has Alzheimer’s Disease

I have promised myself two things concerning my mother’s Alzheimer’s Disease. 1.) I would become honest about her Alzheimer’s Disease. 2.) I would enjoy each memory with mom and cherish today’s laughter.

One of mom’s oldest friends is Mrs. Wiggins. They met when we first moved to Madison, WI in 1970. She has been wanting to visit mom for several months and recently did so.

 I bumped in to Mrs. Wiggins last week at a luncheon and she updated me on her visit with mom. She said that mom was glad to see her and didn’t want her to leave. Mrs. Wiggins then leaned over and said to me:

“Alex, did you know that your mom sits in on team staffing meetings at the memory center?”

I didn’t quite understand, so I asked for clarity.

“The staff meets between shift changes to discuss the issues of the day. These are called staffing meetings. Your mom was just sitting there in the meeting and asking questions about some of the actions that were taken that day.”

This was intriguing to me because prior to retirement, my mother was a social worker, apartment complex manager/case manager, and family counselor. Staffing meetings were part of what she did for a living.

I visited mom the next day and asked her about Mrs. Wiggins’ visit. Mom seemed to remember the visit, or when along with the game. Some days it’s hard to tell the difference. 

I slyly brought up in front of staff that mom’s friend had mentioned that mom sat in on a staffing meeting. The staff concurred that, indeed, mom had. I asked it that had been the only time in which mom attended.

“No, one of the workers, offered, nonchalantly, she’s sat in on a couple.” And he went back to caring for a resident. This really makes me laugh out of sheer joy because this reminds me that not all of my mother is altered. In fact, more of her is present than I have realized.

I’ll blog later about how I found this particular memory care unit, but they continue to amaze me with the ways in which they encourage mom’s independence, dignity and social skills.

I kept mom in her own home as long as possible. I felt awful when we were left with little to no choice but to get mom some better care. The upside is that mom has more social interaction than she’s had in many years.

I realize that mom isn’t really contributing at team staffing meetings at the memory care home (I hope!). However, what is clear is that I have been so busy trying to protect mom, manage her “reputation” and keeping her safe…that I forget at times to help her live and thrive today. I sometimes feel like an overprotective parent who is trying so hard to keep their child from getting dirty or sick that they risk allowing the child to be a child. At times I have been so focused on mom’s Alzheimer’s that I have forgotten that it is merely her diagnosis, not the some total of her life and abilities, or life. 

My mom made a career out of helping others. Apparently, Alzheimer’s isn’t strong enough to completely take that away from her. That makes mom incredibly powerful…again…in my eyes. I have been so busy “helping” mom that I have kept her from attempting to “help” others. In fact, staff told me that if mom hears a patient crying or asking for help, mom will simply walk right into their rooms to see what the matter is.

Mrs. Wiggins and the memory care staff of Sylvan Crossings in Fitchburg, WI, offered me a great gift last week. They helped me with my own memory by reminding me that my mom is more than a patient…she’s still a helper. And although Alzheimer’s Disease, at times, changes the way I see mom; it certainly has not fully changed the way she sees herself. This reality check gives me lots to smile about because mom just helped me, too.

Believe me, we cannot change others, so why do we continue to try?

We are responsible for our own transformation, and that’s only possible through divine intervention and willing human submission. If one of our relationships is headed in a destructive direction, we must remove ourselves from that unhealthy situation immediately! When we are willingly tethered to a negative source…we’re at that mercy of that source. Why? Because if we are on evil territory…playing with unhealthy fire…we’re at risk of failure and jeopardizing our own peace of mind because we have already compromised our convictions by merely being there.

Aren’t we tired of the attraction to what’s mediocre yet? Wasteful? Harmful? There are 7.28 billion people on the planet. PICK SOMEBODY ELSE! Don’t allow people to wipe their feet on you because they don’t want dirt on their own shoes. You’re not a doormat, you’re a rare jewel. Stop pursuing what you think you deserve; pursue what you need ~ respect! You’re worth that much!

Live large and without apologies or regrets. You won’t regret it!!

*For folks who don’t know, African American women absolutely hate the fact that many white coworkers, classmates, roomates, male and female, etc., harbor an unnatural infatuation with Black hair! Although my daughter has heard about this phenomenon, she expereinced it today. She decribes the act and her subsequent feelings about the issue, below. Baby-girl snapped!! Please read in its entirely and listen to the song clip below by Solange Knowles, “Don’t Touch My Hair!”

 

PSA to my white friends and allies:
Do not walk up to black people and put your hands in their hair. Do not do this. I was at work this morning and one of my coworkers walked up behind me — I did not see her coming — and started running her fingers through my hair, saying, “Your hair is so pretty! How do you get it like this?”

It doesn’t matter that she meant it as a compliment. It doesn’t matter that she meant no harm. There is no reason to walk up to someone and just start invading their intimate, personal space like that. Do not touch people without permission, end of story. I am not a petting zoo. I am not something to be observed. I am a person who deserves basic respect.