Mathematics, Grandmothers, and What Caregivers Need

When I reflect on the question of what caregivers most need, two life-lessons come to me: The first, an expression my grandmother used, the second, something I remember from my undergraduate years as a math student. When I was a child and desperately wanted some thing, my grandmother would say, “Don’t let your wants hurt you.” … Continue reading “Mathematics, Grandmothers, and What Caregivers Need”

When I reflect on the question of what caregivers most need, two life-lessons come to me: The first, an expression my grandmother used, the second, something I remember from my undergraduate years as a math student. When I was a child and desperately wanted some thing, my grandmother would say, “Don’t let your wants hurt you.” Instead, she would tell me, be grateful for having what I needed.

The second is a mathematical concept of necessary and sufficient conditions. The concept has to do with the truth of statements—in real life, it is the truth of two conditions.

To read the full post, please follow this link to Caring Across GenerationsCAG grannies.

Photo credit: UDW Homecare Providers Union

Orders

what did I mean to save that day I stood pounding your chest, fired by urgency that was not love but habit a current that ran once? I felt it for years even after it had stopped and you could not deliver what did I hope would return to life that night with my desperate … Continue reading “Orders”

what did I mean to save
that day I stood pounding
your chest, fired by urgency
that was not love
but habit
a current that ran once?
I felt it for years
even after it had stopped
and you could not deliver

what did I hope would return
to life that night
with my desperate pleas
my counted breaths
my lips pressed hard
to yours, together

what was left
in the cold spaces
between us, the disruption
like Arctic air pushed south
to Tampa. We were tangled
up in wires

if only I had shut off
that device, the one that jolts
me awake lonely nights
when I reach across a smooth sheet
for your rough hand
closed into a fist
you will never open

key words: DNR, love, grief, poetry, Janice Lynch Schusterleaves on fire

Steel

I was forged by desire, hot, molten, flaming that lovers stoked at their own risk. They melted into me. I was hammered by love, reduced by its aftermath. My leaden feet lifted by force of will, I learned to dance with monkeys and their crosses and that weight on my back. What else could we … Continue reading “Steel”

dancing buddha

I was forged by desire,
hot, molten, flaming
that lovers stoked
at their own risk.

They melted into me.
I was hammered
by love, reduced
by its aftermath.

My leaden feet lifted
by force of will,
I learned to dance
with monkeys
and their crosses
and that weight
on my back.

What else could we do?

When nothing ever happened
on time, when doors slammed
with us behind them,
when we witnessed
everything
but saw nothing,
when we prayed for help,
and were left to ourselves?

Weren’t we all steeled
by love, etched on singular
faces, long after the bodies
have gone to dust?

What wouldn’t we try
to be so warm
again, to strike
over and over,
casting our mistakes
without regret?

key words: Janice Lynch Schuster, poetry

What Fire Was Like

    What we needed, we did not want. What we wanted, we did not need. Whatever safety I sought in you Did not exist there. We were in a cold room, two sticks for hearts. When they rubbed together, some kind of furious dance, a spark, ignited the bed, set the house on fire. … Continue reading “What Fire Was Like”

 

 

leaves on fire

What we needed, we did not want.
What we wanted, we did not need.
Whatever safety I sought in you
Did not exist there.

We were in a cold room, two sticks
for hearts. When they rubbed
together, some kind of furious dance,
a spark, ignited the bed,
set the house on fire.

There is no joy in melting
into the other. No self in the end,
no sense of what made
us whole—or what we made.

The skeleton frame of the house
stood still, smoldering and terrible,
while we watched, our hands seared
by nothing we could touch.

key words: Janice Lynch Schuster, poetry, divorce

Hot Flash News Flash: Hormone Therapy for Menopause

After having endured hot flashes several times an hour day in and day out, I decided to find help. In the process, I learned a great deal, and shared what I learned in an article out in today’s Washington Post.     key words: Washington Post, Janice Lynch Schuster, menopause, hormone treatment

After having endured hot flashes several times an hour day in and day out, I decided to find help. In the process, I learned a great deal, and shared what I learned in an article out in today’s Washington Post.

 Menopause

 

key words: Washington Post, Janice Lynch Schuster, menopause, hormone treatment

When My Dad Sneaked Into the White House, Washington Post, 2014

My father is a sports fanatic. That fanaticism led to his excellent adventure–a visit to the White House in 1978, when the Washington Bullets won the national championship. A fun story to read, given the current hard times of security breaches. Dad at the White House, 1978

My father is a sports fanatic. That fanaticism led to his excellent adventure–a visit to the White House in 1978, when the Washington Bullets won the national championship. A fun story to read, given the current hard times of security breaches.

Dad at the White House, 1978

Dad at Nats

Race, memory, and the present: Washingtonian, October 2014

I grew up in a racially polarized time and place. I thought my Dad was Atticus Finch and Clarence Darrow. His first murder trial involved defending a black man accused of first-degree murder in the shooting death of a white police officer. This is my memory–and what it means in today’s racially polarized America.   … Continue reading “Race, memory, and the present: Washingtonian, October 2014”

I grew up in a racially polarized time and place. I thought my Dad was Atticus Finch and Clarence Darrow. His first murder trial involved defending a black man accused of first-degree murder in the shooting death of a white police officer. This is my memory–and what it means in today’s racially polarized America.

 

Shattered House, Washingtonian, Oct 2014

 

Key words: race, Ferguson, murder, biracial

Our Needs Hurt Us

We were beautiful We were fractured We had everything We could not stop looking We wanted for nothing We did not know what was ours We were walking on water We could not stay afloat We made a raft of our bodies We forgot how to swim We were watching stars We wanted the sun … Continue reading “Our Needs Hurt Us”

We were beautiful
We were fractured
We had everything
We could not stop looking
We wanted for nothing
We did not know what was ours
We were walking on water
We could not stay afloat
We made a raft of our bodies
We forgot how to swim
We were watching stars
We wanted the sun to rise
Whatever was was not
What we had in mind