Alzheimer’s Disease: That You Remember Me

January 22nd, 2012

That You Remember Me

Part one of two parts

I’ve learned so much throughout my life,
but there’s much I don’t recall.
I know it’s in there somewhere
but it’s hard to find it all.
It’s not that I’ve forgotten you,
or the things I said I’d do;
I remember everything
but it’s hidden somewhere I can’t see
just beyond my view.
You see, there is a shadow where
there didn’t used to be,
and sometimes when I look right there
it just confuses me.
I remember lovely flowers,
and songs I used to sing.
I remember springtime showers,
and rainbows they would bring.
I remember movies
and who would be the star,
but sometimes it’s so hard for me
to know just who you are.

 

 

Copyright Daniel Mark Extrom. All rights reserved.
Donate to Alzhiemer’s research.

If there was no calendar, what day would it be?

January 2nd, 2012

Happy New Year!  Make it so.

We make such a big deal about a new year.  We convince ourselves that, somehow, this one will be different and better than all the others. And perhaps it will. Each of us, of course, has some power, some ability, and some opportunity, to make it a better year for ourselves. But increasingly, I think we, collectively, believe that we have less control over our own futures than ever before. Why? The blacks and whites (not racial terms here–just a descriptive term for issues) are melding into grays of varying intensities, and most of us feel trapped by those who seem to assert, with such certitude, positions that are so far to the right (or to the black) of us or so far to the left (or the white) of us that we are not sure we can even formulate a position of our own without risking major criticism from one side or the other, or even both. And so we often remain silent, while we suspect our world is imploding upon itself and upon us.  And we try to cheer ourselves up by focusing on little things: a new year; a holiday; a small raise; a stock market rise; a birthday; a new car; a new episode of CSI.

But still we are scared.  The institutions we once believed in are beyond our understanding, and seem beyond caring about any of us.  Greed seems rampant in far-off places, and while we like to think we can muster up some economic ambition in ourselves, it seems that there is something  or someone out there, unknown to us, that will somehow end up benefitting much more from our efforts to rally ourselves than we will.

And this frightens us in a way perhaps not seen before. Our efforts, we suspect, will be for naught.  Government does not work, we think, and we suspect that government is no longer owned by “the people” but by moneyed interests that we don’t know and cannot touch, but we sense that they are in our purses and wallets more often and more deeply than ever.  Even more, we suspect that they are in the purses and wallets of those we trusted enough to elect to office, such that what we want and hope for and expect from government is irrelevant in the face of the demands of the moneyed interests.

And yet, every couple of years, we are told how much our votes matter, and how important we are to the process, and how much our opinions matter. But we suspect we are being lied to, and we don’t know who the truth-tellers are anymore, or if there is even a truth-teller out there. More to the point, we worry that we have no one to speak for us, and we worry that no one would listen even if we found such a person to speak for us.  If we have no one to speak for us, do we have a voice?  Most people, I think, are relatively and quietly moderate, or they don’t care, until they figure out that their jobs are leaving town and they won’t be able to buy food because the grocery store is closing because there is no one capable of buying food even if they, individually,  had a little money to buy food. They can’t send their kids to school because the schools have closed because no one owns a home because their jobs left town and they couldn’t pay the mortgage, and the property taxes are unpaid and so there is no money to pay teachers and for school buildings and more maintenance.  And stop signs will not get replaced when they fall down, and fire and police protection will become sparse and perhaps ineffective.  And who will monitor those who would pollute our lakes and rivers and air? And who will inspect the restaurants to make sure food is safe? And who will make sure the airplanes are safe? And so on.

This country was truly founded on the backs of the middle class, and the upper classes knew this, and understood it, and accepted it.  Read Ben Franklin.  Read about George Washington. Read Abraham Lincoln. Read. Read.  Stop watching the TV (except CSpan’s Book Channel). Read. See how important the middle class was and is.  But when the middle class is squeezed into oblivion, it may be too late. And the end result will be that the upper classes will start to eat each other.  Why? Because when the middle class is gone, they will need to create another one, which will be made up of former members of the upper classes.  Why? Because they certainly can’t trust each other. They know how they are, and how much they need, and they know that  most of what they need is not very much except that they need all that they have and want no one taking any of it away for anyone else’s benefit.  But they know they need a middle class, even if they have to invent one from former wealthy people. Because without a middle class, there is no source of income to the wealthiest among us.

But no society can exist without fair taxation, just as a professional association  or volunteer organization cannot exist without dues.  If such a professional association charged dues in the same amount to every member, the poorer members will simply drop out once they cannot afford it, and eventually, taken to an extreme, only the wealthiest members will remain. And they will have to pay more to sustain the organization, if they wish to sustain it.  But in a nation, those who cannot afford to pay the dues cannot leave. What will happen when the middle classes can no longer afford to pay the taxes?  When that point comes, they will not likely not be able to buy the products and services offered by those who produce the products and services, thus affecting the economic status of those producers.  What will happen then?

So taxation is not the real issue. The real issue is this:  what kind of country do we want to have?  Do we want to weaken our country so much that only the wealthiest will survive?  Are you an employee?  Are you working harder and more hours than ever before?  Is more demanded of you than ever before? Are you told that if you cannot cut it, you can easily be replaced?  Do you feel like a slave to your job?  Are you sharing in the bonuses?  Who is?  And are those bonuses paid to other people far in excess of your own salary?  At the end of every review, do you feel simply lucky to still be alive? To still have a job? To still have health insurance?

Where does it end? It is 2012.  It is an election year. What will your life be like in 2013? 2014?  2020? Do you want to be controlled by the extremists?  By the wealthiest among us?  What kind of country do you want?  Where is the America you grew up with and loved?  Who owns it now?  When did they buy it?  Who did they buy it from?  And what did they pay for it?  Did you get any of that money?  Or did you pay for your own losses?  Do you suspect that you did?

Where is my America? Where is your America? Is it still the land of the free and the home of the brave? Or is it now the land of the greedy and the rest of us?

2012: Be an American. Be a voter.  Know the candidates.  Know yourself.  Love your country.  Change the ownership.  Make it your own. Start local.

Enough said.  Happy New Year!  Make it so.

A Christmas Wish For You

December 18th, 2011

Here is a short holiday poem.  We printed this poem on picture matting and we inserted a photograph  of our daughters (previously used for a Christmas card) in the center, which is a nice and cheery way to greet holiday guests. Click on the photo to see it in a larger size. Comes in 10″ by 8 “.

 

A picture poem to greet your holiday guests.

A Christmas Wish for You

 

May the bells of Christmas ring
a song that never ends.
May the joyous sounds they make
bring peace to all our friends.
May the lights of Christmas bring
an everlasting glow.
May the love that fills our home
bring warmth to all we know.
May love and joy and peace be yours
now and evermore.

Copyright Daniel Mark Extrom 2008-2011.  All rights reserved.

Ron Santo: A True Hall of Famer. Thataway, Ronnie!

December 7th, 2011

After too many years, and one year too late, Ron Santo is in the Baseball Hall of Fame.  He died just over one year ago, and so he did not know during his lifetime that he had finally received major league baseball’s highest honor: to be elected and enshrined in the Hall of Fame.  I hope he knows now!  But more than baseball, he was an advocate for the children who suffer from the disease that he suffered from most of his life. He had Juvenile Diabetes, and during his career, few knew that he had to test his blood and give himself insulin multiple times a day in order to save his life and health.  He committed his life to helping children who suffered from this disease, helping the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation to raise over $ 60 million to support research to find a cure for it, and to help the children, all while undergoing two leg amputations and multiple other health issues.  I am re-running this poem in honor of his Hall of Fame election. It is called “For Every Kid.”  And thank you, Ron Santo, a true Hall of Famer!

For Every Kid

You played the nation’s greatest game
with talent and with fire,
reaching deep within yourself
yet always reaching so much higher.

 

It is a game learned by boys,
yet also played by men.
You played the game so you’d inspire
everyone to have some fun–
so men would play like boys again.

 

There was a joy to making catch
that others might not make,
or to drive the runner home
when victory was at stake.

 

Every game was a test
of stamina and will.
You always gave your very best:
you played with passion;
you played with skill;
stars may dim but never rest.

 

And when the games were over
and the crowds were getting thin,
you gave yourself to different cause,
more determined now than ever
to fight the fight and to win.

 

You saw the children suffer
from the burdens that you knew.
You gave your all the only way
that you knew how to do:
have a passion; set a goal;
make a plan; then pursue.

 

You knew their hurt; you knew their pain;
you knew the fear in each one’s brain.
You showed them courage;
you gave them hope.
You taught them how to live and cope;
you showed them that there was no shame.
You gave yourself; you gave your name:
you kept the kids in the game.

 

So thank you, Mr. Santo,
for everything you did:
for the game; for the Cubs;
and most of all–above it all–
for the love you showed for every kid.

 

You fought the fight every day
and still you played the game.
the Biggest Leagues have called you up:
You’re a star in every sense–
you’re in Heaven’s Hall of Fame.

Congratulations to Ron Santo!  All good things to his family!

Copyright Daniel Mark Extrom 2009-20012. All Rights Reserved.

 

Steve Jobs: Organ Recipient / Gratitude to Donors of Life

November 2nd, 2011

So Hope Will Live (Part IV of IV)

Today we conclude So Hope Will Live. This is Part IV.

Boston College has a motto:  “Ever to Excel.”  It is adopted from Homer’s Iliad.

It is a great motto for a great university and for all of us,

because it encapsulates a pursuit that all of us should undertake.

Steve Jobs pursued excellence and his legacy will long remain so long as others do the same.  And he was allowed to continue his pursuit of excellence even after a devastating diagnosis because of the intelligence and talents of medical professionals, and because of the generous gift of life from an organ donor.

As I said earlier, this poem was not written with Steve Jobs in mind, but it might express his sense of gratitude to his donor. We do know that while he was alive, he did thank his donor. This poem is written from the perspective of a recipient to his or her donor and family. Two families are now bonded in a way like no other.

Strangers are indeed now a family.

Donate Life.  Your Life Will Go on Living.

So Hope Will Live   Part IV of IV

Know that I am grateful
for the life you gave to me.
May my life give you light
wherever you might be.
And may my life bring comfort
from the pain that hurts you so;
we are strangers now a family,
wherever we may go.
And may the life that lives in me
shine a light so all can see
that life goes on, ironically,
when we choose to donate life,
so hope will live, eternally.

Copyright Daniel Mark Extrom 2010-2011. All rights reserved.

P.S.  I have not yet read Walter Isaacson’s book entitled, simply, Steve Jobs, but I intend to.

Steve Jobs: Organ Recipient Extraordinary Life Part III of IV

October 14th, 2011

The tributes to this remarkable man continue all over the internet.  The following poem was not written with Steve Jobs in mind, but it might reflect the gratitude he felt for his donor.

Below you will see Part III of “So Hope Will Live.”

Donate Life! Be an organ donor.

So Hope Will Live  (Part III of IV)

Your gift has given life to me –
a gift of love, born of pain –
joined by science, joined by fate -
a bond that bridges life and death –
a bond of love; a bond of pain -
a sad and strange irony –
a gift of life now given me,
and strangers now a family,
burdens borne with different names.

Copyright Daniel Mark Extrom 2010-2011.  All Rights Reserved.

Steve Jobs Part II: An Extraordinary Life; An Organ Recipient

October 10th, 2011
This is Part II of a poem called “So Hope Will Live,” which was written last year.  It was not written with Steve Jobs in mind, but it is a poem written from the perspective of an organ recipient who is alive because of someone else’s gift.  Donate Life: Your life will go on living. www.donatelife.org.

Part II of “So Hope Will Live:”

A part of you now lives in me
and we are joined like family –
not in blood and not in name,
different, yes, but yet the same –
joined in cause and common voice –
knowing that there is a choice
to donate life to someone else
so they may live their life again.
May each life be for all
a light ahead in driving rain.

Copyright Daniel Mark Extrom 2010-2011.  All rights reserved.

Also, give to JDRF.  For the children.

Steve Jobs: An Organ Recipient; A Man Who Changed Our World

October 7th, 2011

Far too young.

Steve Jobs lost his battle with pancreatic cancer this week.

But remember that without a donated liver, he would likely have lost his battle several years ago.

The world lost one of its best a couple of days ago.  Lost in the outpouring of accolades for a genius committed to excellence is the fact that he outlived his life expectancy.  He was first diagnosed with pancreatic cancer years ago, but most who have heard that diagnosis have only months to live.  How did Steve Jobs survive so long?  In part because he received a liver from an organ donor a couple of years ago.   He thanked his donor in one of his speeches, and acknowledged that he was alive because of that generous gift.   I did a poem last year entitled “So Hope Will Live,” written from the perspective of a recipient and serving as a “thank you” to organ donors and their families.  The poem was not written with Steve Jobs in mind, but it might express his sentiments.  Here is Part I of that poem:

So Hope Will Live  (Part I)

We are strangers now a family,
forever joined – not by choice –
but joined by need and joined by pain:
different lives, but common voice –
a cry for love, a cry for life,
so hope will live, eternally,
born of saddest irony.
Life will never be the same –
not for you and not for me:
One you love – who shares your name –
now is gone, but I remain:
a second chance, a new domain –
a gift of life, that lives in me;
we are strangers now a family.

Copyright 20010-2011  All rights reserved.  Daniel Mark Extrom.

Be an organ donor:  www.donatelife.org.

 

JDRF Walk to Cure DiabetesToday

October 2nd, 2011

Today is the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation Walk to Cure Diabetes in Chicago.  Donate to help a child. Donate to help rid our world of the scourge of this disease.   And thank you to Ron Santo for his efforts on behalf of this organization and on behalf of these children.  www.jdrf.org (You can see a poem about Ron Santo in our  News and Discussions (Blog), entitled “For Every Kid”.)

The Silence and the Darkness: September 11

September 11th, 2011

The Silence and the Darkness

A September 11 Poem

Can you hear the silence?
There’s a space there in your mind,
ten years old
but still brand new –
still burning you and touching you
though you were far away.
*
Can you see the silence?
Not a cloud was in the sky,
but a lost and wayward airplane
turned in to a tower
and your world stopped to ponder
until there was another
and then you were not sure at all
of what it was you knew,
but you knew it was a morning
unlike any other
and you could not forget.
*
Can you smell the silence?
Terror reigned and rained
in Pennsylvania, NYC and DC
and sunny skies were fillled with clouds
of smoke and fire
and shouts and screams
and gasps and sirens
and mothers, fathers, children crying –
a spot of sun through monstrous clouds;
this was  life
among the dead.
This was life
among the dying.
*
Then the loudest sound of all:
Silence: silence so profound,
from sky down to the ground
and back again.
And then the sky began to fall,
and all we knew was nothing,
nothing then at all.
*
You recall the silence.
It is always there –
a space inside your mind
that never will be filled:
not with pictures; not with sound;
just a piece of silence
in a place of darkness
inside of which is vastness
with a thousand million questions
and a thousand million resolutions
that all come down to this:
How shall we now live?
*
The silence and the darkness
brought by stealthy enemy
somehow can unite us
when we ourselves can not.
*
Remember those who perished.
Remember those they loved.
And remember then the heroes:
They never let us down.
*
Celebrate that silence.
Celebrate that darkness.
Celebrate that space.
And celebrate America,
rising from the ashes.
*
Can you feel the silence?
Then ponder once again:
Who have we become?
And who shall we now be?
*

Copyright Daniel Mark Extrom. Sept. 2011.  All rights reserved.