Leave the gun take the cannoli (9)

The winds of change  blowing through the non-profit sector  are the  evivalent  of  a hurricane.  Budget cuts to meal programs for the elderly  have resulted in a change of menu that only an anorexic could love.  As of today,  the delivery of a single hot meal   by a friendly, familiar  face will be replaced with  frozen dinners that  arrive a few times during the work week.  While this may sound like a viable solution to some accountants in their 30’s, it is  cause for alarm to anyone who has ever dealt with an Alzheimer’s patient or mobility impaired octogenarian.     

 For several years, I’ve  volunteered with Caring Community, an organization near the  NYU campus, that assists  senior citizens in a variety of ways, including “friendly visits” and a daily hot meal program.  As a New York Cares team leader I’ve  mobilzed legions of volunteers on Saturday mornings and holidays to pack a nutritious early dinner for the elderly.  The warm entree and a side of fresh perishables,  including  milk,  juice and bread, was the least of what we provided.  Most of us signed up  because we understood the importance of  a few minutes of entertaining  conversation with each lonely client.  We were the eyes and ears of the organization.    We reported back to the social workers at Caring Community if we noticed anything odd,  like a client with  slurred speech or a bad smell in an apartment.  

 Many clients  do not own a microwave oven.   Those with  vintage  pacemakers powering  their hearts still use an old school stove.   Anyone with dementia probably should not be cooking with gas.  Theoretically,  everyone  should have a home attendant.  However, not all home attendents work weekends or full days.  Some clients only receive help for a random 4 or 5 hours a day.  I’m willing  to predict that some clients will cook 3 meals on Friday then go hungery until Monday. 

Tim Gibson, the silver fox of my NYCares/Caring Community food delivery program is issuing an interesting humanitarian challenge.  He’s asking  his fellow volunteers to set out on a scavenger hunt for usable crutches, walkers and canes that he will personally deliver to the needy through Crutches 4 Africa.    In February, Tim will embark  on  the Abercrombie and Kent private trip around Africa.  His goal  is to collect as many mobility devices as possible and distribute them to people suffering the effects of polio, birth defects and landmine accidents in the most remote and impoverished areas of the continent.

“There are thousands of crutches, walkers and canes out there,” insists Tim.  “It’s just a case of finding them. And once people know where they are going, and they will be given away for free, the closets open.  It’s wonderfully simple and effective.  Someone’s broken ankle here becomes a lifeline to someone who can now become mobile for the first time in their lives.  They get dignity as well as mobility.”

Hand delivering these gifts  is exciting and heartbreaking considering the  physical conditions of the lucky recipients. “I’ve seen people who literally have been born with no legs … their bodies just stop at the hips.”  Tim recalls  “one guy who was punting himself around on a large skateboard.”

Information on Crutches 4 Africa,  its founder David Talbot and ways to help can be found on  their website at www.crutches4africa.org.           

Rarely does it happen that an over-educated dilettante admits to watching hours of  mind numbing  reruns and reality t.v.   But I’m  spending my summer vacation  at the mercy of  a channel surfer, in a feeble attempt to provide 24 hour care for my  mother.  

 Since June, my mother’s physical health and memory have been declining faster than the speed of sound.   Dementia. like the mad scientist of ‘Mystery Science Theater 3000’  keeps  her riveted  to  a 42 inch  flat screen.   I’ve  been reduced to the role of the  alien robot at her side as she  spends her nights waving at toddlers and muttering  wisecracks at QVC hosts  or talk show guests.   

Considering the amount of hours I’ve clocked as a  NYCares  volunteer   you’d assume  that I’d know all the right people to dispense advice about obtaining proper home care.  But nothing could be further from the truth.  The old cliche, it’s not what you know but who you does not apply to my situation.   Searching for a punctual, qualified health-care professional is like Murphy Brown’s quest for  a permanent secretary.       

Refusing to  give up hope,  I wait in anticipation  for the Alzheimer’s equivalent of a super nanny to offer more than  4 hours of relief in the morning.    Meanwhile, my mother sits through another marathon of  ‘John and Kate Plus 8.’   Amazingly enough, she  recognises  all of the sextuplets.    Ask  her who I am  and she  sounds like a bad imitation of Faye Dunaway in ‘Chinatown’,  repeating   “my  sister ….. my daughter” in complete confusion.    

I realize that the television remote is probably the last thing she has control over so I don’t mind her   eclectic  taste.   Her favorite Sunday night routine is to watch the Mass from Saint Patrick’s Cathedral followed by ‘Gene Simmons Family Jewels’.   During the week she sometimes lets me  watch ‘The Big Idea with Donny Deutsch’ , but only  if his guests are good looking.   Fortunately, last week I caught a segment on success in the workplace.  A sales professional was asking Mr. Deutsch’s panel for career advice while  dealing with a parent’s “end of life” issues.     

A close up of Mr. Deutsch showed sincere surprise.  A panelist spoke first, then Mr. Duetsch offered his words of wisdom.   His sage response was the opposite of  everything  I’ve ever heard a social worker, friend, colleague or someone claiming to be a relative say.  Mr.  Deutsch recommend that  the man  view his time at work as a chance to take a break from his overwhelming family responsibility.    As someone who was born with that extra caretaker chromosome, I applaud Mr. Deutsch for his genius.       I’ve used this strategy for the past three years and it really helps me to appreciate my boss and dread vacations.            

I love my job and I can’t wait to go back  to work.   In the meantime,  my friend and colleague, Lina Germosen stops by every Saturday to  give me a break.    Lina   spends a few hours watching movies with my mom so I can go into Manhattan and feed the homeless.                  

Fear of the unknown permeates the brain when you realize that a friend or family member is missing.  The greatest fear of parents is a  lost, runaway or abducted child.  Equally as devastating is  the panic of grandchildren and adults when a parent with dementia wanders off in the night.     

Taping a missing person’s poster  to the sparsely tagged  bulletin board at the last stop on the subway  I wonder why such premium advertising  space is  vacant.   As soon as the poster  is secured,  a group of teenage boys walk over  to examine it.  They stare at the picture of Enrique Picart and comment that he’s been  missing for more than a month.  As they  walk away, a  middle aged couple  stops and takes a look.  The man reads the paritculars out loud, “black mole on right cheek, short white hair wearing dark green polo shirt.”  

 I hadn’t  heard of Enrique Picart until earlier in the day.  Mr. Picart’s daughter and her friends had  been diligently searching the streets and  the bread lines looking for anyone who might  know Rick or Kique, as he’s sometimes called.  Some of my transient buddies took the liberty of volunteering my help and sent  one Ms. Picart’s friends over to my favorite soup kitchen.         

Enrique Picart is a 77 year old Korean War veteran and Alzehimer’s victim who lost his way home on June 14th.   He is 5 feet 11 inches tall.  His favorite catch phrases are “Parlez -vous Francais?” even though he doesn’t speak French, and “I was in the Army.”    If you see him please call 1-800-577-TIPS.     

 Since I believe in the kindness or strangers I’m  hoping that Mr. Picart will be found safe in a shelter or hospital.  

In this age of political correctness, it should be glaringly obvious that something is missing during the month of May.  Its a time of year  devoted to the celebration of  motherhood.  Florists and card companies increase their earnings exponentially  by  the second Sunday of the month as we  honor our mothers, step-mothers  and pregnant friends.   On the other 30 days of May  you can hear hymns echoing  in  convent  gardens  and  Catholic church yards.  Little girls dressed in blue execute  the coronation ritual by placing a flower wreath on a statue of  Our Lady.    Yet,  we simply  ingnore  the virtuous  work of the women  who fill the maternal void in the lives of orphans,  the depressed or the  dying  by acting as a spiritual mother.    

I don’t know who coined this phrase, but I’ve  heard the term used by people of many denominations to describe women who mold the moral character of   children who are not their own.

Every May I make a concerted effort to  keep in touch with my  former teacher and friend Sr. Camille D’Arienzo by attending “An Evening of Mercy” at the Yale Club.       This event is one of the few award benefit/fundraisers that actually inspires humble humanitarian service.   The room is always filled with people who are quietly changing the world through outreach to the  poor and disenfranchised.

This year, Sr. Karen Schneider was honored for her work with children around the world.  Sr. Schneider is a pediatrician from John Hopkins University  who  travels to the poorest  countries to  care for orphans with malaria and fix  cleft palates.   

Sr. Camille is an advocate for social justice.  She’s been changing lives for  generations by showing compassion to everyone, including death row prisoners.          

Sunset Park has a  has a rich history of embracing immigrants from every continent and common wealth in the Atlas.   Ever since the days of Ellis Island, this  south Brooklyn neighborhood has consistenly  welcomed a steady stream of strangers to its  communtiy and classrooms.   

Last semester, Joel Mejia  challenged the students of The Dual Language School in Sunset Park  to be a part of  his  “Dare To Dream Project” and explore  immigrant heritage.   Many of the children enrolled in this after school  endeavor  immigrated when they were babies, others are first generation Americans.   

Joel began by teaching  the kids photography skills.  Then, he empowered them with cameras and took them for walks around the neighborhood.  They discovered  the meaning of juxtaposition by strolling down 8th Avenue.  The children were fascinated with the vibrant colors of the Chinese shops preparing for the Lunar New Year.  Just a few feet away they found a   Mexican bakery and  stores with signs in Arabic calligraphy.

Suddenly, the students were filled with questions on the immigrant experience and how it differed from one group to another.   They learned to appreciate the struggles and accomplishments of their families and neighbors.  When it came time for the kids to select the images to display in the Dare to Dream Media Festival, their compositions proved  thoughtful and sophisticated.  They captured the the pride of the shop owners and the symbols of the various cultures.   The work in the exhibit was professional and thought provoking.                     

The Dare To Dream Media Festival was featured by the Mayor’s Office of Immigrant Affairs  2008 Immigrant Heritage Week.      

The hallmark of   Roxie Salamon-Abrams photographs is her ability to elevate her subjects from the ordinary without pretension or cliche.   

During her  senior year at Stuyvesant High School in 2007,  Roxie  accompanied her  father on a buisness  a trip  to India.  The images she captured are a stunning synthesis of insight and inquiry.  Women deep in thought as they go through the paces of their daily chores seem oblivious to Roxie’s lens.    Rather than focusing on the poverty of the rural areas she visited,  her portfolio focuses on the teamwork and pride found in building a community.  Even her shots of smiling children are candid and unaffected.  

Currently a freshman at Tufts University, Roxie’s  work provides  the back drop for  “The Village Temple Indian Connection”  a special Shabbat celebration on the main floor of the temple that hosts NYC’s best  soup kitchen.   

Roxie is the daughter of William Abrams,  the president of Trickle Up, www.trickleup.org a non-profit that offers grants and micro-enterprise development in the most impoverished areas of the world.    

Its amazing how quickly adolescents grasp the concept of social justice.  While contemplating their  place in the world and defining their own  value system teenagers cultivate compassion  for the outcast and disenfranchized.  

Recently, 12 year old  Bea Genco and I  had a very erudite dicussion about the lack of clean drinking water in Africa and the number of starving children throughout the world.  She posed some very sophisticated questions regarding humanitaran aid  and government involvement in feeding the poor.    She wondered how  individuals with limited resources could  make a difference in  the world.  So, I showed her two of my favorite web sites;  Charity: water (http://www.charitywater.org) and FreeRice (http://freerice.com).

Charity: water sells bottled  water for $20 and 100%  of the proceeds go toward digging wells in  Africa.  FreeRice is an English vocabulary building site that   helps to fight hunger through the UN Food Program by donating 20 grains of rice for every word the user  gets right.   This site is sponsored by advertising revenue.  FreeRice is fun and I  spend a few hours on it whenever my insomnia kicks in.

I challenged Bea to go to FreeRice and try to learn 100 new words.  I told her if she could donate 500 grains of rice in 10 days I would buy a bottle of water for her from Charity: water.     Bea had so much fun playing around on FreeRice that she donated 13,820 grains in 7 days.        

March winds always signal a serious change in the climate of academic programs for at risk students.  The stress of standardized tests deplete the fun  from every aspect of the school day including recess.  Children of the City is consistent in planning the curriculum for  their Create Success after school program  so that the  delicate  balance of rigor and humor are maintained throughout the year.  In an effort to offset  school related stress, Joyce Mattera and Daniel Ramos organized a few little surprises to keep the  kids on their game and reading.

By recruiting students from Brooklyn Tech and West Brooklyn Community High School,  Children of the City   celebrated  “National Dr. Suess Day”  with an author study and marathon reading  of Theodore Geisel’s  classic rhyming tales.   A few days later Ronald McDonald stopped by to reiterate the importance of reading.   But  the highlight of the month was  when NFL Superbowl champ, David  Tyree and his  family dropped  by for the afternoon.  

 During his visit, Mr. Tyree spent time with every single child in the program.  His sincere interest in their well being and academic progress was evident in the way he  made eye contact and engaged each child in conversation.   Researchers have  not yet  devised a rubric to measure the effects of a little attention from a football hero on a child’s self esteem.   But, a few weeks after Mr. Tyree’s visit,  my  NY Cares crew of  Reading Partners (Alaina, Anne, Caitlin, Galen, Laura, Neal and Phoebe) noticed an  improvement in the  social skills of  the children.   They  were much more out going, made eye contact more frequently  and welcomed all of the  volunteers, not just their reading partner.                 

The thick white layer of snow that covered NYC on Friday was a filthy, slippery, slushy mess by Saturday morning. Flurries continued  after dawn  and the mercury refused to budge past 33 degrees.    I wondered how many  of my  volunteers would make it out  to deliver hot  meals this weekend.

My cell phone was ringing as I exited the 8th Street stop on the R train.  Volunteers experiencing transportation delays had been calling or leaving text messages all morning.  A new recruit was lost somewhere on MacDougal Street.  I was headed for an  an anxiety attack until I read Carol’s e-mail.  She volunteered for the long and winding Bank Street route.                 

Inside the Caring Community building, on Washington Square North, a modest amount of volunteers  waited for the caterer to arrive.     Tom and I tried to figure out how to readjust the routes for our limited number of delivery persons.    Suddenly, a  stream of  people flowed through the door.   Like wet  Gremlins,  my labor force had miraculously multiplied.   All 20 of my NYCares volunteers  were present and accounted for.  Firefighters, Zac  and Gordon, from Post 6008 brought a dozen  teenagers from the FDNY Explores Program.   Raquel of AmeriCorps provided  another 9 young adults who joined a team of students   from NYU.  

By  11;30 the sun had pushed away the clouds.  The ice patches on the sidewalk were  melting and our volunteers had visited  150 lonely New Yorkers.