PAY ATTENTION!

Let me tell you about the day I died. I have to take the ultimate blame because, I wasn’t paying attention. Not paying attention can be the cause of a lot of “butterfly effect” issues, many of which we could easily prevent - if we were only paying attention. If not paying attention is fast becoming a national epidemic, and it is, South Florida has to be it’s epicenter. I live in South Florida and notice it’s prevalence every time I leave the house. South Floridians go through their lives oblivious to the fact that there are other people anywhere near them, or, for that matter, that they even exist. This is a condition that has worsened with the advent of technology. People who used to be just plain rude, are now showing how versatile they are by being just plain rude while holding a conversation on the phone. I can’t wait for a few more technological advances so we can see how many plates they’ll be able to keep spinning at one time: Let’s see - just plain rude while holding a conversation on the phone and watching a movie in the upper right corner of their glasses, all while updating their resume’. I suppose I’m simply a product of my environment, though, as paying attention hasn’t always been my strongest suit. Years ago, my family was vacationing in Michigan and we wanted to rent a houseboat on the river where it emptied into Lake Michigan. They didn’t have any houseboats left (How do you not have any houseboats left? Who runs out of houseboats?) but, they did have a sailboat. “Have you ever sailed one of these?” asked the proprietor. The last boat I had come any where near “sailing” was in the tub when I was small, and it sank. That fact alone, as far as I was concerned, justified laughter as the answer to his question, but, since he didn’t know me, I added, “No!” He said it was really quite an easy task to handle one of these boats and that he’d take us on a “trial run” and would show me what to do. I watched as he started the engine on the sailboat, which, in itself, was a concept that confused me. When we got to the spot where he wanted to stop he told me to “throw out the anchor.” I looked down and saw the anchor, picked it up and tossed it into the drink. “You tied it up first, right?” the Skipper shouted. “You didn’t tell me to tie it up,” I yelled back, “you told me to throw it out!” After I dove into the cold river to retrieve the line, I realized that, once again, I had not been paying attention. The fact that the anchor was not tied to the boat was no small detail. The day that really drove home the need to pay attention, however, came not that long ago after I got out of the hospital, where I had just spent a week as they tried to figure out why I had been hit with a bout of vertigo. We never quite got to the cause, but, I came home and was adjusting to yet another “new normal.” I had been home for one day and I knew that the next day, I had an appointment to get some blood work done at the VA, which has been providing my primary care since I lost a long time job and, with it, my insurance coverage. I can truly say that, after more than 4 decades, I have finally found a reason to be thankful the Vietnam war. While sitting in the waiting room at the VA, I began to feel clammy and a little weak. They called me in for the blood work and, for some unknown reason, I reached up to my neck to feel my pulse and felt it stop. I yelled out, “I have no pulse.” (fade to black). The next thing I remember, was 5 people standing around me shouting “WAKE UP” as a lady was squeezing a tube of glucose into my mouth and trying to get me to swallow it. I had gone into a diabetic seizure. My glucose and blood pressure had both plummeted and I “ceased to be” for a good 30 seconds. They “brought me back” within about a 5 minute period, the ambulance came and I was back in the hospital. Had I not been at the VA for the blood work, I wouldn’t be writing this. It was determined that one of my diabetes meds had caused my blood sugar to drop to a dangerous level. That’s when I realized that I was the one who wasn’t paying attention in the first place. I’m usually very good about reading my bodies signs, but this situation came with an extra factor. The medication had dosage instructions which said I was to take 1 pill, 2 times per day to lower my blood sugar and that’s exactly what I had been doing. It never occurred to me that I should always check my blood sugar first and only take the pill if the numbers were high. There was no reason to lower my blood sugar if it was already in a good range, which it had been for a while. I was directly responsible for my own death because I was oblivious to the fact that I didn’t have the need to take a pill, but was taking it twice a day. It was an important lesson for me and one I hope everyone who reads this will take with them. Listen to your doctor, but, more important, listen to your body. Pay attention - it talks to you all the time. Paying attention to what’s going on around us is a problem that, I’m afraid, we, as a society, are stuck with. Paying attention to what’s going on inside us, however, is something we should be practicing all time!

A TRIBUTE TO U.S. VETERANS

America’s war veterans come in a variety of sizes, shapes, colors and ages. Their collective experience spans two world wars and a number of foreign conflicts. They have followed war mules through the mud of Flanders Field, dropped from landing barges onto the beaches of Normandy, faced the icy cold of Pork Chop Hill, trudged the rice paddies of the Mekong Delta, dodged suicide bombers in Baghdad and fought off the Taliban in the Swat Valley. All veteran’s, no matter how different the individual experience, share a common bond. A veteran is the first one to rise when the flag passes by of the 4th of July, and the last one down, for he has been a witness to the blood, sweat and tears which make this and all other parades possible. A veteran is a man of peace; soft spoken, slow to anger and quick to realize that those who talk most about the glory of war are those who know the least about its horrors. He never jokes about war because he’s been there and can still see, on memory’s vivid screen, the wounded and dying, the widows and orphans. He knows first hand that no war is good and that the only thing worse than war is slavery. He is a friend to all races of man, begrudging none. He carries with him the knowledge that it is not the man who is the enemy, but enslavement and false ideologies. Those whom he once faced across hostile battle lines, he now esteems as his brothers. A veteran is at once proud yet humble in the realization that many of his comrades who helped him make his lofty aim a reality, never returned. More than anything else, a veteran loves freedom. He can spend an entire afternoon doing nothing – just because it suits him. He has paid the price to do what he wants with his time. He also takes pride in the freedom of others – in men and women attending the church of their choice or not. In friends voting how they choose and in children sleeping quietly, without fear to interrupt their slumber. A veteran is every man grown just a little taller – a person who understands the awesome price of life’s intangibles of freedom, justice and democracy. His motto is to live and let live. But, if he had to choose between servitude and conflict, the veteran would once again answer the call to duty. Because…..above all…..above all else – a veteran is an American.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS?

Thanksgiving and the first day of Hanukkah are the same date this year. The last time that happened was 1888 and it won't happen again for like 70,000 years. So, I suppose it's OK, this year, to wish someone a Happy Thanksgivukkah. There have been times, over the years, that I have been taken to task for saying "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas."  Let me explain my position. You see, in my family we celebrate all of the holidays of the season, so, the conglomerate greeting seems the most apropos. My family is a true microcosm of society. We, like the rest of the human race, come in a variety of sizes, shapes, colors and beliefs. I recently overheard a contemporary say the he wouldn't want his kids to marry outside of their race because he was afraid the kids would suffer. My family believes that there is only one race and that is the human race. I have a daughter who graduated from medical school at the top of her class and now has 2 offices and has had to hire more doctors because her practice is so successful. Another daughter is a registered EMT now owns a successful gym with her personal trainer husband and home schools my grandchildren while running a business. Yet another daughter got her Masters in psychology from SMU with honors, and now works as a successful psychologist for 3 Dallas area hospitals. My fourth daughter is in the honors college at FIU, majoring in biochemistry. She wants to be a dentist. She is also an amazing flautist. Did I mention that they are all extremely beautiful on the outside as well? We should all have to suffer like that. I am a Jew and was raised celebrating Hanukkah, the commemoration of the reclamation of the Temple and the survival of a people. My wife is an African -American Christian who was always taught that the meaning of Christmas was to give the gift of ourselves to others to try and make the world just a better place to live. It's what Jesus did.  We light the candles in the menorah at Hanukkah and all of the kids know the prayer….in Hebrew. We have a tree at Christmas and we always spend our day, as a family - feeding the homeless. And, we celebrate Kwanzaa, the African-American holiday that began in 1969 that reinforces the seven principals of Unity, Self-Determination, Collective Work and Responsibility, Cooperative Economics, Purpose, Creativity and Faith, principles that have, over the years, only made us stronger as a family unit. We also follow the tradition of telling stories of those who came before us. It helps to remind us where we came from and who we are.   We also have at least one Muslim in the family and I lived I Puerto Rico and still enjoy the celebration of Tres Reyes…or Three Kings Day…when in practically every barrio on the Island, people open their doors and go from house to house in celebration of the season. Tres Reyes happens 12 days after Christmas and keeps the celebratory mood alive well into the New Year. Yes, my family is a true microcosm of society.  When you put together all of the cultures, colors, languages and lands that make up the fabric of our family unit, you can see how amazingly rich we are in understanding and respect for others. When we look at each other, all we see is family and that will always come first. So, as I wish each and every one of you a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah or Happy Kwanzaa, please know that it is from the bottom of my heart and understand that, should our paths cross at any time during the season, you should feel free to wish me any of the above or……Happy Holidays.