Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Uncomfortable Conversations:  
Living and Dying by Social Media

I’m not sure I want anyone to see me die, unless I’m 93, my long, gray hair is brushed smoothly to the shoulders of my favorite nightgown, and I pass peacefully of old age or a quick bout of pneumonia. My mom’s nursing colleagues call pneumonia “a dying man’s best friend,” hastening the process with only a delicate rattle at the end of a stethoscope. Whenever and however it happens, I’m just not sure I’d like a standing-room-only kind of audience.  My guess is I won’t have much to say about the matter.

My grandmother waited to die until after we had left the I.C.U. the evening of January 15, 2000. A snowstorm had hit Chicago that evening making travel dicey at best, so my mom and I said our tearful goodbyes and started down the snow-packed road.  After four long days standing vigil, we blared Irish folk music to keep us awake and to celebrate the woman’s life that ended as soon as we pulled out of the parking garage. “Sometimes they just wait for the quiet,” the nurse had said earlier, glancing around the room full of my extended family.
Kara Tippetts is a 38-year-old local Colorado Springs woman spending her last days at home after a two and a half year fight with Stage IV breast cancer. She has authored two books, the most recent of which is called “The Hardest Peace:  Expecting Grace in the Midst of Life’s Hard,” written “to appeal to us all as we meet the bitter edges of life on this side of eternity” (mundanefaithfulness.com). Kara maintains a widely read blog called “Mundane Faithfulness” that receives over 10,000 views daily (krdo.com).  She has over 50,000 followers on her Facebook page (Facebook.com), and nearly 2,000 Twitter followers (Twitter.com).

(Photo courtesy of Jen Lints via americanconservative.com)

Each of her blog posts are linked to Facebook and shared by thousands who make comments like “thank you for sharing your beautiful life and heart with us all” and “you have touched our lives and I can't wait to meet you in Heaven!” (Facebook.com). When she is able, Kara reaches back to her followers, some battling cancer themselves, admitting that while the journey is hard, “there is going to be grace for this” (Facebook.com). Last October, Kara reached out to another young woman facing death, Brittany Maynard.

Brittany was a 29-year-old woman from California diagnosed with terminal brain cancer and six months to live in January of 2014. She and her husband relocated to Oregon, “one of five states (including Washington, Montana, Vermont and New Mexico) that authorize death with dignity” (thebrittanyfund.org). Instead of the disease ending her life, Brittany swallowed a lethal combination of drugs on November 1, 2014. But, not before partnering with Compassion and Choices, “the leading nonprofit organization committed to helping everyone have the best death possible” (compassionandchoices.org). Brittany believed so strongly in assisted suicide, she spent the last months of her life setting up the website TheBrittanyFund.org, making videos with over eleven million views on YouTube.com, and doing interviews with CNN and People Magazine, lobbying for legislation like the Death with Dignity Act for all states.

(Video courtesy of YouTube.com)
While Kara and Brittany never met in person, a month before Brittany took her own life, Kara wrote her a letter.  Originally posted on Ann Voskamp’s blog “A Holy Experience” (aholyexperience.com), Kara pleaded with Brittany not to take the life-ending pill saying, “Yes, your dying will be hard, but it will not be without beauty” (dailysignal.com). Whether or not Brittany even knew about the letter is unknown. Nonetheless, Kara’s heartfelt warning went unheeded.

We may agree or disagree with Brittany Maynard’s video messages in support of legalizing assisted suicide or struggle with Kara’s decision to chronicle her decline from advanced stage cancer on Facebook. To most Americans, death and dying is still taboo.  According to lifeintheusa.com, a website of American culture, “The American attitude towards death, in cultural terms, is one of denial.” But, this new generation steeped in social media can’t avoid the uncomfortable conversations about what their living has meant and what their dying might really look like.  Death doesn't just happen in jam-packed hospital rooms.  Now it's part of the public domain.

I can’t help but think back to Grandma’s crammed hospital room, my extended family taking turns telling stories, breaking into laughter, and then crying tears into our collective bucket. Maybe those last moments were for us, not her, but I will cherish them forever. My grandma was never on Facebook, but if she were, her last post would have read, “Love you. Be careful driving home. Heading home myself.”

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Screen Time Versus Quality Time With Your Kids:

How Much Of Their Childhood Are You Giving Facebook?

(Picture courtesy of abbyofftherecord.com)

I’m guilty of it myself.  Sitting in the pick-up line at school, scrolling through my Facebook page on my phone, failing to notice my kids have gotten in the car, and suddenly realizing that I’ve already missed several of the frontpage headlines of their day.  I’ll attend a middle school volleyball match or a beginner’s hip hop class and innocently intend to take a picture, only to find myself missing the winning tip or my 8 year-old’s best-rendition-yet of the “Worm”, too busy scanning my newsfeed for the “what’s seriously not important” from the last ten minutes.

(Picture courtesy of blog.games.com)

At least I’m not Shannon Johnson.  In September of 2011, this Greeley, Colorado woman let her 13 month-old baby drown in the bathtub while she played Café World on Facebook (Roberts).  Earlier that morning, reports say that she had given her son breakfast, navigating her kitchen, maybe dicing a banana or scrambling an egg, and then put him in the bathtub to wash up (Roberts). 

(Photo courtesy of cafeworld.yolasite.com)

Ironically, Café World was a restaurant simulation game, which at its peak had more than 8.6 million players a week (Shaul) who could “slice, chop, saute and bake [their] way to the top of the culinary world!” (Café World).  Johnson did, in fact, make her way to the top of the newsfeed with her 10-year sentence for the fatal neglect of her son.  Almost two years later, Zynga, the gaming company who owned Café World, chose to discontinue the game in July of 2014 due to diminishing numbers of players and revenue (Shaul). 

(Photo courtesy of calbuzz.com)

Born in 1974, I didn’t have to compete with social media for my parents’ attention.  A good Sunday sports page in my father’s hands or my mother’s most recent library acquisition, maybe.  But, a handheld device complete with the ability to message a high school sweetheart or to peek at pictures of classmates who had lost hair or gained weight?  Nope.  They had to wait for twenty-year class reunions to roll around for that.  I had their full divided attention.

In an article entitled “Calling All Moms:  Get The Heck Off Facebook!,” Megan O’Neill interviews Gerry Graf regarding his partnership with MomFilter.com to promote a shared vision to “encourage moms to log off Facebook…at least for a little while…and spend some time with their kids” (O’Neill).  Together, collaborators launched the campaign called “The Log Off,” and produced a video displayed at thelogoff.org and linked to YouTube.  The YouTube version has had 148,717 views since May 2011, while “Maybe The Best Funny Dogs Compilation Ever” video uploaded the same day has drawn 2,571,204 viewers. 

The campaign is falling on distracted ears.  With a look at recent headlines, child neglect and the internet seem a joint venture of their own.  While parents aren’t exactly logging off the internet in droves, some are totally unplugging…from their parenting.


Works Cited

"Café World." Facebook. N.p., 24 May 2014. Web. 17 Feb. 2015.
“Maybe The Best Funny Dogs Compilation Ever." YouTube. YouTube, 11 May 2011. Web. 03 Mar. 2015.
"Mommy Facebook Song." YouTube. YouTube, 11 May 2011. Web. 03 Mar. 2015.
 O'Neill, Megan. "Calling All Moms: Get The Heck Off Facebook!" SocialTimes. N.p., 11 May 2011. Web. 17 Feb. 2015.
Roberts, Michael. "Shannon Johnson Gets 10 Years after Infant Son Drowned in Bath as She Played Facebook Game." Denver Westword. Scott Tobias, 18 Apr. 2011. Web. S Feb. 2015.

Shaul, Brandy. "Zynga to Close Cafe World and CoasterVille on July 22." SocialTimes. N.p., 30 May 2014. Web. 17 Feb. 2015.

Friday, February 27, 2015

sister mac attack

What do a nun, two airbags, and a bleach blonde driving a crap heap of a car have in common?

Last Tuesday.

That morning, I was on the way to meet a girlfriend for breakfast.  My one day off from school to get everything done, see friends I have abandoned, pretend I don't have seven loads of laundry awaiting me while I search for treasure at Arc.  All I could think about was Eggs Benedict, a strong cup of coffee, and a few laughs with Katie.

"The light turned green.  I'm positive."  The officer held a clipboard with his black leather gloved hand. He was prepared, while I stood on a curb in Steve Madden leopard print patent leather flats, exchanging my weight from one foot to the next as 24 degrees Fahrenheit turned my feet red, and while I wasn't eating Eggs Benedict.

The light turned green.  The little old lady in the white Corolla in front of me got an annoyingly slow start.  "Let's go, lady!"  I'd said it out loud, my Chicago showing.  She was midway through the intersection when the bleach blonde in the red crap heap barreled through the intersection and sent Little Old Lady sideways up the ramp to the interstate.  The interstate she just wanted to pass, but the one Bleach Blonde in the Red Crap Heap was in a hurry to get on.

I parked my car under the underpass and ran to the little white Corolla.  A couple in a black Lexus had pulled over and were tending to the bleach blonde who was standing at the side of her previously dented to hell vehicle, her arms across her chest looking pissed.  Her lack of concern for the little Corolla she had just crumpled baffled me as I stepped over its bumper and shards of broken glass and plastic.  I gathered this was just her usual expression, years of the victim mentality perfected had probably served her well.

The two air bags had deployed, and I could hear Little Old Lady screaming.  "God, I hope she doesn't look horrific," I thought to myself as I walked toward the car.  I remember noticing there was no blood on the windows and thinking maybe it wouldn't be that bad.  As I got to the mangled front end of the car, the tiniest Asian nun in the world pushed the driver's door open, stood and held both my hands in hers.  She looked up in my eyes, placed my hands on the cheeks of her warm, tear-streaked face and said, "I will pray for you the rest of my life."

Her name tag from the hospital read "Sister Mac".  She had been on her way to volunteer in the Radiology department.  "Will you call them for me?  They will be so worried."  A man named John in a Jeep had stopped by that point and walked us to his vehicle to warm up.  Three police officers, a fire truck chock full of paramedics, and a community service officer joined the party.  Sister Mac never let go of my hands.  I stood next to Jeep John, who was tasked with the job of filling out Sister's paper work; my job was to hold her hands.

How is it that some people, when faced with adversity, with life or death I-can-smell-smoke-from-my-airbags-deploying adversity, can think of others first?  While others stand on the sidelines pissed because they're late for work or pissed because their crap heap of a car is now undriveable or pissed because they know they did something wrong but could never admit it.  Looking pissed is the only defense they have.

Walking up to windows you can't see through is a lot harder.  Pushing mangled doors open isn't easy. Having the courage to right a wrong is hardest.  Bleach Blonde in the Red Crap Heap had her chance and it passed her by.  She sat in the protection of the Black Lexus, surrounded by first responders, the final report reading "a scrape on the left ankle, a bruise from seat belt across chest".  I wanted to take some blank bright yellow police line and a Sharpie and write "CAUTION:  JACKASS" across it and wrap it around her.

Sister Mac called me to have lunch this Wednesday.  She will wait for me outside of the "Sisters' Office" at 11:30 and watch for me.

"I will pray for you the rest of my life."

I need it Sister Mac.  We all do.

(first picture courtesy of http://friendsofthecathedral.org/photoalbums/historical-pictures.  second pictures courtesy of http://www.culturalcatholic.com/nunscalendar.htm).