Journal of Nursing Jocularity

I was in the airport restroom yesterday attempting to wash my hands while a young child about three years old stood on the counter trying to throw a hand towel into the trash receptacle.

He kept missing, but the mother kept shouting “you can do it, you know you can”, as if she was coaching a future NBA hopeful. He finally made it , which led her to go into high gear with multiple shouts of “Good job, good job, see how special you are”!

Over the years I have heard a plethora of parents using this language. Telling children their special whenever they accomplish even the most ordinary acts has become the new metaphor for parenting.

However, it doesn’t just stop with the rhetoric. Prizes, certificates of achievement and ceremonies that are akin to the Academy Awards are also part of the process to increase feelings of being “special”.

I suspect that some parents are giving their kids a gift if they get out of bed and go to school.

When did the concept of being special become so watered down and what’s the point? I know my mother loved me but I was only considered special when I did something that was beyond what I was expected to do. And even then her praise was analogous to the act. If I washed the dishes she said thank you but she did not jump up and down or do cartwheels across the kitchen floor because that was what I was expected to do.

She did manage to be more exuberant when I graduated from college which made sense since it is a few levels beyond scouring pots and pans.

I don’t remember the good Sisters of St. Joseph going out of their way to make any of us feel special. If you studied, worked to your potential and were courteous, they gave you a pat on the back and told your parents you were a good student. If not you were relegated to icy stares that made your hair fall out.

My piano teacher occasionally told me I had potential, but she never went overboard or tried to book me into Carnegie Hall. She might have if I had extraordinary potential, but she wasn’t about to delude me into thinking I did by telling me I was “special”.

The message was clear, you had to do something pretty amazing to be nominated for a prize, like discover a new planet. Here’s the bottom line, if everyone’s “special”, is anyone really “special”?

Loretta LaRoche writes the Get a Life column for the Patriot Ledger.

The one thing I keep hearing over and over about Lady GaGa is that she’s different. Her clothing, makeup, and choice of music are helping to make her a household name. Different is something that has always been a part of what human beings seek.  

Yet what’s interesting is that much of what’s different soon becomes ordinary as others begin to imitate and clone themselves after the original. This type of behavior is certainly not new.

When I was a teenager we wore hoop skirts with crinolines. I can’t fathom why that particular trend took hold, but all of us wanted to look alike. Most of us looked like inverted lampshades, yet we were not only not aware of how we looked, we didn’t seem to care. What was most important was fitting in.

After all who wants to stand out and be noticed for being an Individual who thinks and walks to their own drummer? The answer is not many! Most of us feel more comfortable and safe fitting in and not making waves.

Believe me I’m not proposing that we should be constantly striving to be unusual, quirky, or odd, but the human spirit does need to re-invent itself periodically. Living day to day in the same old way creates a spiritual boredom that can become the death knell for our vitality and energy.

I have met a host of individuals who never seem to want to try anything new. Even their food choices are relegated to a menu that is bland and consistently familiar. After conversing with them I feel that I would rather spend time watching my faucet drip.

I would suggest you start asking family and friends if they feel you might be stuck in a time warp? Perhaps it’s time to revamp your mind/body and spirit.

I’ve always been fascinated with eccentrics. Dr. David Weeks from Edinburgh University in Scotland has found that eccentrics are healthier and live longer. The people Weeks studied went to doctors only one-sixteenth as often as other adults.

Inside all of us lurks a self that yearns to be a little outside of the box. You don’t have to go so far as to stand naked in front of your house.  Start slowly, perhaps by wearing a loud pair of underwear, or choosing cheddar cheese for your hamburger rather than American. Every time you choose to be different it stretches your brain’s capabilities. It also makes you more of a surprise, which makes life feel more like a party than a funeral procession.

Loretta LaRoche writes the Get a Life column for the Patriot Ledger

Little by little we are spiraling into a place where being tacky, rude, immoral, unethical or stupid is often rewarded with a reality show, book or movie deal. TV moguls have created a genre that seems to be a bottom less pit. Nothing is prohibitive or sensitive.

In fact crude and rude seem to be in vogue. Presently you can watch New Jersey housewives which is predicated on a group of uber-entitled women, one of which recently declared bankruptcy.

It seems Theresa Giudice and husband Joes’ spending sprees have left them owing 10. 5 million dollars to creditors. However, their lawyers ability to finagle their case allows them to keep any new income they make which will then make it possible for Teresa to continue to shop till she drops.

If you want a teenage version, you have only to turn on Jersey Shores. This group takes gauche to an all time high. Snookie the young girl who seems to get the most press is now about to launch a clothing line called “ Filthy Couture”.

Now there’s something I can’t wait to buy. I wonder if the label recommends taking a bath afterwards.

Have a need to watch a couple with bad manners? Well, you just got your wish. The Salahis who crashed a White House dinner party are set to have their own show. I wonder what the premise will be? Will they simply spend their nights going to parties their not invited to, while viewers watch the shocked look on the host and hostesses faces?

If none of the above sounds enticing then I suggest you watch Eliot Spitzer, the former governor of New York who was caught transporting a hooker across state lines in his new CNN talk show. It seems CNN’s ratings have gone down so why not?

In fact you can not only watch Spitzer, but you can also read Ashley Dupres column in the New York Post called “Meet Market”. She was the one who bedded Spitzer and I guess her expertise is such that she gets to write once a week about sex, love, and relationships. If you’re a psychologist you might want to trade your shingle for a set of sheets.

In fact being refined, tasteful and educated is probably not going to cut it. If you want to have a realty show you’re going to have to get down in the dirt and scratch with the chickens.

As a young child I would beg my mother to let me mow the lawn. I loved walking behind the push mower watching its blades turn and churn up the grass, and hearing the rhythm as I walked up and down the yard. My least favorite part was having to rake up the grass afterwards.

I don’t think I’ve seen anyone mowing by hand in years. In fact most of them must be in antique stores waiting for someone to purchase them so they can turn them into lamps or clothes trees.

What I see now are individuals sitting on a riding lawn mower with grass catching capabilities. This type of equipment was used by farmers to clear the “back forty”. Now people are using it to mow a patch of grass the size of a postage stamp.

The noise these machines emit is somewhat analogous to a jet idling on a tarmac when you’re trying to sleep in on the weekend. I’m not quite sure why this has become the new paradigm for lawn maintenance, but I’m sure one of the reasons is that it looks cool, just like running around town doing errands in a big truck does.

We seem to like big in this country and fast and we want to expedite and multi task, so we can get as much done as possible in one day. If we can sit and do all our stuff, we’re even happier. I think eventually we will simply not have to move at all. Maybe our legs will turn into wheels. After all the evolutionary process has proven that when you don’t use it, you lose it.

Unfortunately our need to expedite and all our technology has decreased our calorie expenditure. My grandmother washed most things by hand including dishes, mopped or swept floors, and walked everywhere. She had incredible stamina and rarely if ever sat down to rest. She always told me that she knew that eventually she would have an eternity to rest.

My mother had the same mindset. Gadgets were considered unnecessary. A lot of her sense of self worth came from doing things that had a certain degree of physical and mental effort.

Believe me, I’m not proposing that we go back to outhouses or washing our clothes down by the river. But, perhaps we might want to integrate some of our past into the present. It just might be one of the answers to curbing the continuing rise of obesity.

Loretta LaRoche writes the Get a Life column for the Patriot Ledger.

I have never been able to understand someone’s need to have the news on all day long. I realize that we are in an era where the access to any type of information is instantly available. But listening to reports on murder, drug trafficking, political kickbacks, sexual infidelities and other heinous acts do not need to be part of our daily routine.

In fact hearing bad news or even having it in the background can be detrimental to your well being. After awhile you start to think that the world is going to hell in a hand basket.

At one time our awareness of unsavory acts was limited. But now you can hear about a scam that some goat herders in outer Mongolia pulled off. There are reporters at the ready in almost every corner of the earth.

The weather was limited to your immediate area, now you can find out what the precipitation might be in the Aleutian Islands, just in case you have a hankering to go there after you go food shopping.

Even if you don’t watch a lot of news, you can almost count on the fact that someone will share it with you whether you like it or not.

I find that many people are now of the mindset that the world has gotten to be a very dangerous place. What they fail to recognize is that bad events have been happening since the beginning of time. I personally would not want to have been a serf living in a village that Attila the Hun swept through with his Army. The only way the villagers could have been alerted is if someone nearby had a fast horse, was a trained marathoner or had a pigeon that had rocket boosters on its wings.

Tidal waves, volcanoes erupting, earthquakes, hurricanes, and typhoons have been a part of the earth’s patterns since the beginning of time. Fortunately the human race has continued to survive and thrive.

Keeping that in mind is difficult if we don’t give ourselves a break from bad news. It also sets you up to continually worry about what might happen next.

We have often heard that murder and mayhem is what sells. But perhaps sprinkling some acts of kindness and compassion throughout the daily newscasts might just help us all physically, mentally and spiritually. It might even make us all feel better about each other.

Loretta LaRoche writes the Get a Life column for the Patriot Ledger.

I recently read that CVS is doubling its food sections in thousands of stores this year as part of a new strategy to grab market share from supermarkets.

Retail consultants call this “channel blurring”. Yet another doublespeak that tries to get us to feel comfortable with how convoluted retail is becoming. The rationale for this combining of food and drugs is so that customers can get “what you want, when you want it”.

So that if you are filling a prescription for a yeast infection, you can also get a loaf of bread.

Supermarkets have had pharmacies in their stores for years, so perhaps putting the shoe on the other foot is certainly fair play. However, I have shopped in both these stores and also noticed that you can purchase, balloons, baskets, electric toothbrushes, books, DVDs and assorted other items that were once not indigenous to either store.

The so called “blurring” seems to be occurring in a variety of places not just in the food and drug markets. Bookstores sell music, stationary, pens, games, and have coffee, frappes and sweets. Gas stations sell food, newspapers, magazines, and often have a Dunkin Doughnut on premises. Coffee shops sell CDs, mugs, posters, lottery tickets, magazines and newspapers. Some physicians are now selling their own products.

I often find myself feeling overwhelmed and somewhat disoriented when I’m walking through aisle after aisle of stuff looking for something I need. Even if I find what I need, I have to go through tons of the same product that all have slightly different ingredients, but essentially do the same thing.

I often feel like I’m part of some weird experiment that is testing to see of I will end up sane after leaving the store.

I love shopping in small stores where meat, or cheese or wine and spirits are the only things sold and the salespeople are present and interested in what you need. I realize that big stores are in, and that Americans like the notion of “one stop shopping”.

Perhaps someone should consider building houses with all the aforementioned in them. Then we wouldn’t have to leave the premises, or if we get bored with our own stuff we can go next door and buy a cup of sugar from our neighbors.

Loretta LaRoche writes the Get a Life column for the Patriot Ledger.

I have a very dear friend whom I’ve known for years. We now live several hundred miles apart and don’t see each other all that often, but we make it a habit to talk on the phone at regular intervals. A few weeks ago it occurred to me that we hadn’t spoken in quite some time, so I called her at home, and got her voice mail. “ Hello, please leave me your name and number and the reason for your call, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

Two days later she called me from her car phone.”Hi, it’s me. I’m so sorry I haven’t called in such a long time. Things here have been just insane! I’ve been working so hard it’s unbelievable. I had to work on a project all weekend, and when I wasn’t working, I had to take the kids to a birthday party and two play dates. I haven’t had a minute to call. I’m so overwhelmed I just don’t know what to do.”

I didn’t know what to say to her. How absurd! We haven’t spoken for a month, then she takes the first ten minutes of our conversation to tell me that she’s too busy to talk to me.

Divulging every ounce of our daily “doings” has become a fact of life. I don’t know when it started, but I cannot recall my grandmother or mother having a need to report how busy they were to everyone that came across their path.

Perhaps we’re hoping that someone will come to our rescue if we appear as if we’re going to have a nervous breakdown. I have to realize that the only that will rescue me is me!

Unfortunately, we are also in an era where “real listening” has been replaced by practicing what you’re going to say while the other person is talking. Whoever you’re telling how busy you are is chomping at the bit to be even more fatigued and overwhelmed.

I am beginning to wonder if we really want relief or has the mindset of a never ending list of tasks become the new model of self-worth?

If so we are totally missing the point about what it means to live a fulfilling life. I doubt that at the end of our days that people will be eulogizing how busy we were. I would hope that we will be remembered for the joy, laughter, compassion and understanding we brought to our friends, co-workers and family.

Now that’s a busy that’s worth it.

Loretta LaRoche writes the Get a Life column for the Patriot Ledger.

Often we’re rushing around so much that we become incredibly intolerant of others. Time has become a measurement of how much needs to get done, and life is a daily race. Sadly, many of us live under the illusion that when we reach the finishing line we will feel relief.

This becomes a daily ritual which in and of itself causes a great deal of stress and leaves us frustrated and unable to connect in a civilized manner. The irony of this mindset is that the very opposite is true.

If we slow down and take the time to be polite and considerate, we actually have more respect for ourselves. When we act more humane, our minds and bodies are freer to be more present and focused, therefore, we are more productive.

As a child, my grandmother spent hours teaching me manners. My mother worked, and so it became grandma’s responsibility to create her ideal, a dignified, gracious human being. Anything else would not be tolerated and if she witnessed anything less, she would repeat over and over that I was acting like an animal.

“Don’t chew with your mouth open,”

“Put your fork down when you’re not eating,”

“Think before you speak,”

“Don’t mumble.”

These instructions, plus many more, had a dual purpose: They helped me function better in society, and they were a source of pride for her.

To my grandmother, there was no greater sin than being ill-mannered. It brought disgrace upon her good name. For that she reserved the ultimate punishment-silence. Silence from an elderly Sicilian grandmother can be compared to life imprisonment. An entire act accompanied the silence-great big sighs, heavy walking while she prayed for your soul, and hand gestures similar to what the Roman emperors gave to those that were about to die.

Finally my grandfather would intercede by yelling “Basta” (enough). He was the only one who could end the punishment, aside from God.

Human survival is dependent on healthy relating. The process of people interacting requires understanding, kindness, consideration, compassion and acknowledgment—-which is what manners are all about.

The poet William Blake sums it up beautifully: “Everything that lives, Lives not alone, Nor for itself.”

Loretta LaRoche writes the Get A Life column for the Patriot Ledger.

If you think you have nothing to worry about, you can rest assured that some magazine, newspaper or TV talk show will inform you about something you had no idea existed, even in your wildest dreams. You could literally scare yourself to death from the minute you wake up till you go to bed.

In fact beds can be the source of all kinds of problems. You could have an infestation of mites, invisible creatures when seen under a microscope that look like small aliens. They can be the source of allergies, rashes and more.

You’re supposed to buy a new pillow every six months in order to stop the mite colony from taking over your house. I remember having the same pillow till I got married. It’s amazing that I’m still alive to tell the tale.

That’s just the tip of the iceberg.

Bacteria of all kinds have become the topic du jour. No matter where you are you can find a post with a cleanser to use to help you avoid being contaminated by the latest germ. Some people wash their hands so often that they have to go to the dermatologist to get treated for eczema, a condition that is based on dry skin. So now you’re not infected, but you look like an alligator.

Children are even getting into acting like pseudo-physicians. Kids used to call a cut a boo-boo, now they might explain that it’s a small puncture wound that might need an antibiotic.

It’s a miracle that my grandmother lived till she was 95. When something fell on the floor, she would pick it up, wipe it off on her apron, and then eat it.

As a nation we don’t seem to be able to walk a moderate path when it comes to health information. Sun screen, defined as a protection from skin cancer, was used to such a degree that now we are being told to get at least fifteen minutes a day in order to get sufficient doses of vitamin D3. This particular source of D is gotten from the sun and helps create bone density. Yes, you can also get it from supplements and some foods, but the bottom line is a little sun is not the problem. It is too much sun.

Soon, it will be impossible to leave the house without first encasing ourselves into a protective suit that has been completely sterilized.

Become aware, alert and informed, but don’t become obsessed, it could be the death of you.

Loretta LaRoche writes the Get a Life column for the Patriot Ledger.

It seems that every generation of women has a garment that is supposed to help eliminate bulges, bumps and all manner of obvious lumps.

My grandmother wore a corset. I used to have to help her pull together both sides and snap it shut. I remember struggling with it as if I were reeling in a large tuna. I would try to encourage her to try to simply wear a bra, but she was adamant that it made her back feel good and made her figure look more youthful. I used to wince when she took it off, because in its’ place were a series of depressions that resembled train tracks.

My mother wore a girdle. I never understood how she got it on, because it looked like it might fit a toddler. But, I guess that was the whole idea. Once you got it on, which could take years off your life, you looked like you were smaller. Again, marks from the girdle were imprinted on her body when it came off. I tried it on once and thought “I will never, ever wear this crazy thing as long as I live”!

Well, we all know that many of our resolutions can change over time, and once I had a baby, I fell into the need to purchase something to flatten my belly. At that time in history there was something called a “living girdle”. I think once you put it on it died, because when you took it off it had a rather peculiar odor. You had to powder the inside and then wiggle your way into it. In order to get through the day you had to carry an oxygen tank because breathing became almost impossible. I finally threw it away because I knew it was either me or it.

Well, now, a new generation of fat flatteners has emerged called Spanx. You can purchase one for almost every part of your body. They recently came out with one that addresses the front and the back like a suit of armor. I tried the panty house on with the control top, because if anything is “out of control” it’s my stomach. I walked around the house a few minutes and ripped them off.

The relief I felt was immediate. I knew at that moment that I was meant to have it “all hang out”. Let’s face it, all these under garments that promise miracle results, lose their miraculous possibilities once you take them off.

Perhaps working out and eating less might just be more of a miracle.

Loretta LaRoche writes the Get a Life column for the Patriot Ledger!