The Circle of Life... or, be kind to your children because one day they might be choosing your nursing home.

Fifty-five years ago (come this Saturday) I made my appearance in this world. My mother was just a couple of weeks shy of her 30th birthday. A little quick math and that means my Mom will be 85 years old in a few weeks. Suddenly, 55 doesn't seem too bad.

For those keeping track, you'll remember that my Dad passed away in June of this year. He was 84 years old. He and Mom had been married 64 years. Mom went to live with my older brother in Evansville, IN. Over the past few months I've kept in touch with Mom via the occasional phone call and even less occasional snail mail (she doesn't do computers). My brother has kept me up to date on Mom's condition, and by condition I'm refering primarily to her mental state.

For some time (several years) it has been apparent that Mom's short-term memory was failing and she seems to get confused easily. Is it the early stages of alzheimer's, or basic dementia related to old age? Who knows? As an example, she swears that her bedroom at my brother's house is on a different level from the rest of the house, but instead of stairs there's like a ramp that goes to her bedroom. In reality, my brother's house is all one level, no stairs, no ramps.

Why do I mention all of this? Because Mom is now at my house and I'm about to learn first-hand what my brother has been talking about. Back before Thanksgiving we talked to Mom about coming to visit us over the Christmas holiday... figuring a couple of weeks. The next thing you know, Mom's talking about staying longer... just didn't make sense to travel all that way and just stay 2 weeks. Well, ok, I have no problem with that. Sure enough, she packed 3 suitcases and an overnight bag, along with assorted purses, shoes, coats. All evidence suggests that she's here to stay a good while. Again, I have no problem with that. The reason I was thinking just a couple of weeks is because my brother and his extended family will be celebrating Christmas on January 8th (long story) and I assumed Mom would want to be there for that occasion... apparently, not. I have a theory as to why Mom is planning an extended stay and why she doesn't care about missing my brother's family get-together, but that's better left off the public internet.

Here comes the 'Circle of Life' part. For the first 18 - 20 years of my life, my parents took care of me, making sure I had everything I needed and had every opportunity to grow into adulthood. Having been the child and having been the parent of my own children, I know what that's all about. Now it's my turn to reciprocate. In a way it's sort of cool having Mom around, but in other ways it's sort of weird. She's a little more "child-like" than I had anticipated. Sure, I've listened as my brother explained what it was like living with Mom again, but clearly it's one of those cases where you don't really understand until you've done it yourself.

Thank God she is still physically capable of dressing, bathing, and feeding herself. The difficulty comes in remembering things... like where's the bathroom. After two days she still opens every door until she finds one that looks like a bathroom or her bedroom. Hopefully, this is a short term situation until she's lived here long enough to figure out where everything is located. On the other hand, this may be as good as it gets. As strange as this may seem, I can live with that.

Where I have questions and doubts is when does my help cease being help and cross the imaginary line to be an insult. Here's an example: She gets confused going from her bedroom to the bathroom... six feet from door to door. Just down the hall is the top of the stairs... many steep, narrow steps. My biggest fear is that she will get up in the middle of the night, get confused, wander down the hall, make a wrong turn and tumble down the stairs. To prevent that from happening we put a baby gate across the hallway at night. Seems like a logical thing to do, but when does it stop being a safety precaution and become an insult to her intelligence?

At what point, if ever, does the parent accept that the roles are reversed and is not insulted by playing the role of the child?

Tis The Season... I Ought To Know By Now

This is not meant to be a "Bah Humbug" rant, but rather an "I ought to know by now" article.

I really do love the Christmas season as a whole, but let's talk about stress. I'll sort this into work stress and home stress.

Work: It's practically a tradition now that this time every year brings a round of firings. I'm guessing a lot of it has to do with making up for budget shortfalls to make the year as a whole look better on the balance sheet. But seriously, how sucky is it to let people go 3 weeks before Christmas? "Merry Christmas... you're fired!!" Really? They couldn't wait until January? I know the firings are coming every year, and every year I get nervous about it because there seems to be no rhyme or reason to it. I've seen some of our best people fired for no apparent reason. And every year that I don't get fired, rather than feeling like I must be contributing and doing a good job, I feel like I just got lucky and dodged another bullet. Even worse, there's always some "survivors remorse"... why them and not me.

I ought to know by now... not to worry about getting the axe. If it happens, it happens and life will go on. And my psyche shouldn't sweat it because I probably won't be fired for doing a poor job. It'll just be an economical decision made by some mid-level bonehead. And another thought - I am not defined by my job. It was different (or so I thought) when I was much younger and chasing the brass ring, but not anymore. If I lose this job, it does not change who I am.

Home: This time of year always seems to create stress around the house. We stress about putting up the Christmas Tree, decorating the house, cooking the traditional meals, and most of all we stress about finding the perfect gift for everyone.

I ought to know by now... that all this stress is self-imposed and/or imagined. These are all things I can control. I really enjoy having the tree up and the house decorated and the big traditional meals and, most of all, giving gifts... so, why is all this stressful? Because of what we imagine others might think. If we were true to ourselves and didn't worry about what other people (those who don't matter anyway) think, would we still go big - big fancy tree, big fancy decorations, enough food to feed a small army, and big expensive gifts? Maybe not. Maybe this sounds selfish, but I think we should do these things for ourselves, because it brings joy to us. I choose to believe that the people in my life who really matter won't care if I have a fancy tree and decorations, and probably would be fine if they received no gift at all. Does this mean I'll stop decorating and giving gifts? Absolutely not! It brings me joy to do so.

Merry (stress-free) Christmas to All!!

The Red Coats Are Coming!!

Once again, in their infinite wisdom and in the name of globalization, the organization I work for has decided that I should report to a guy who is located in London. It's bad enough that my organization gets "re-organized" about every 6 to 9 months (meaning I get a new boss every time) and we're scattered all over the U.S. (meaning I've only met one of my past 5 bosses face-to-face), but now they've thrown in the big pond and a 5 hour time difference between me and my Boss du Jour. One thing is certain, he won't be physically looking over my shoulder.

One might think the Brit, wanting to make a good impression, would reach out to his new subordinates without delay to establish a good rapport. One would be wrong. The Brit was my new boss for almost two months before I got the first email from him, and then it wasn't sent to me personally. It was a common introduction sent to the entire team... STRIKE ONE! The next communication I/the team received was notifying us that he had hired a Management Trainee - another name for fresh-faced college boy with permanently stained lips from kissing too much ass - to assist him with the mundane (my word) tasks of herding us Yanks. So, to add insult to injury, now I have to respond to this ass-kissing infant as if he was my boss... STRIKE TWO!!

The first time I actually heard my bosses voice was late last Tuesday afternoon. By late I mean 4:00-ish Eastern Time. The boss and I were both on the same conference call where we learned of a rush-rush request from one of our project sponsors. Here's the problem -- by the time the call ended it was 5:00 PM ET / 10:00 PM London time. I had to leave the house in less than an hour for a montly dinner meeting and I was scheduled to leave Wednesday morning for 3 days of vacation at the beach. And it couldn't wait until I got back on Monday (today). Having explained this to my new boss and apologizing for having to dump it on him, he said "no problem", he would handle it on Wednesday. So, I sent out an email to all involved parties on Tuesday evening saying that my boss would take care of things on Wednesday... and I copied my boss. Now it's Monday, I'm back in the office and trying to get in touch with the boss to see how things turned out in my absence last week. I was a little concerned because I knew he should have copied me on any correspondence and there was nothing in my in-box. I sent an IM and waited 1.5 hrs for a response... silly me... at 8:00 this morning it was already lunch time in London. It turns out I had good reason to be concerned. My first clue was when he responded with basically, "was I supposed to do something?" The bottom line is, he dropped the ball and the thing that couldn't wait until Monday has now waited until Monday... and now I have to clean up the mess and apologize to everyone for the delay... STRIKE THREE!!!

Are the Brits still pissed about that whole War for Independence thing, or has common sense taken another slap in the face for the sake of political correctness and globalization? Either way, I am so screwed.

Dear Lord, can I please hit the lottery and retire early?

Work - Personally Rewarding Endeavor, or Necessary Evil

I think most of us view work as a necessary evil... a means to the end. Sure, it would be great if we all had jobs that we actually enjoyed and it may be true that there are certain aspects of our jobs that we enjoy, but as a whole I believe we all could find things to do with our time that would be much more appealing. Unfortunately, those things usually don't pay the bills.

I've pretty much come to accept that I will continue doing what I do, if for no other reason than it pays good and allows me to pursue other things that fill the "fun" void. However, in the past couple of months, I've been faced with a new conundrum.

In all my 35 years on the job I've always felt good about or at least understood the business case for everything I've been asked to do... until now. Recently, I've been pulled into a project, the outcome of which goes against every fiber of my business instinct. It doesn't make sense, defies logic, and we've been there - done that - and it failed about 10 years ago. What makes us think it will be any different this time? When I've oh-so-delicately surfaced my concerns, the only reason I've been given is that we have different executives who think differently, and (let this sink in) it's the "industry trend". Well, that's like saying, "everybody else is jumping off the bridge, so I will too."

I can't say what this "thing" is because it is not yet public knowledge. That should tell you something. If it was perceived to be a good thing, wouldn't the company want to get out the good news ASAP? But Noooooo - this thing has the potential to be controversial to the shareholders.

Apparently, the decision to do this "thing" has already been made without regard to the financial bottom line. As an employee am I not obligated to do what's in the best interest of our customers and shareholders? According to our Code of Ethics (which I have to read every year), yes I am obligated.

So here's the conundrum. Do I stick to my principles, abide by the Code of Ethics, chastise my superiors for even considering such a "thing" and refuse to be a party to it... followed immediately by my hasty trip to the unemployment line (feeling good about having taken the high road to get there)? Or do I keep my mouth shut, try to keep a low profile, and hope for the best because the economy sucks and my budget can't withstand the absence of a paycheck?

Dear Lord, can I please just retire?????????

Experiences with my Dad during his final hours

Most of those who will read this already know that my Dad, Eldredge Dorris, died last Saturday morning, June 26, 2010. What follows are some thoughts and experiences I had with Dad during his final hours. I sent this out via email to many friends and relatives and to many contacts on my Dad's email contacts list but thought I would post it here in my blog as well.

I don't write these words to gain sympathy for myself, but rather to share with you what was a profound experience for me and to hopefully leave you with a joyful memory from the final chapter of Dad's life on this earth. If you find inspiration, encouragement, and comfort in these words, then all the better.

Some would say this is therapeutic for me and a natural part of the grieving process. Perhaps so, but I prefer to think of it as another piece of Dad's legacy and a continuation of the celebration that was his life.

My Dad was not a perfect man (none of us are), but a great man nonetheless, at least in my eyes. To know my Dad is to know that he was a very devout Christian, a retired Southern Baptist Minister who, over the course of his life, has touched the lives of so many people... more that I will ever know, but especially my own life. To know my Dad is also to know that he was 84 years old and married to Mom (Minnie) for 64 years, a feat seldom equaled in today's world.

If one was to ask Dad, "what defines you?" I believe he would have answered, "I am a child of God, nothing more, nothing less." Of course, to the family he was also husband, father, grandfather, great grandfather, son, brother, etc.. To co-workers he was minister, song director, house painter, security guard, factory worker, etc.. But all of these descriptions/job titles are secondary. To most people who knew him, their first description of Dad would be that he was a man of God.

Dad was under hospice care at home before entering the Alive Hospice facility on Friday, June 18. On a side note, the Alive Hospice staff is amazing. I cannot say enough good things about their service, or rather their ministry, but will save that for another time. Although Dad didn't mention it, I'm convinced that he knew he wouldn't be going back to his house on the farm this time. I also knew that Dad was very concerned about Mom's well-being after he was gone, and I felt that he had not yet come to peace with that in his semi-lucid state of mind and was languishing with that as his final piece of unfinished business. My brother and I had assured Dad on many, many occasions that we would take care of Mom, but he still expressed concern to anyone who would listen.

I feel as though a break-through was made when the hospice chaplain came to visit Dad early last Friday afternoon. I asked the chaplain to assure Dad that Mom was in God's hands. The chaplain asked to pray and of course Dad was very pleased with that idea... and he was surprisingly lucid at that time. To paint the picture, there was Dad, Mom, me, and the chaplain holding hands around Dad's bed as the chaplain prayed. I could sense in Dad's reaction to the chaplain's words that he was beginning to feel peace about Mom's well-being. Then came the moment. When the chaplain had finished praying, Dad with his eyes still closed called me by name and asked me to finish the prayer. I have to admit that my first thought was, "oh no, I can't do this." My second thought was, "yes, I can and must do this. It may be my last opportunity to do something for the man who has done so much for me during my life." I began to pray aloud, but only about three words had escaped my mouth when I became overwhelmed by the emotion of the moment and couldn't utter a sound. I took a moment, said a quick, silent praer for my own strength and the words began to flow. I've never prayed like that in my entire life. In hindsight I now know those were not my words coming out of my mouth. It might have been my voice, but it was clearly God's words. In the midst of my prayer, it came to mind that Dad would very shortly begin his journey through eternity in heaven and that when compared to eternity, the remainder of our lives on earth is only the blink of an eye... then we would all be together again. Not only was God providing the words that Dad needed to hear, but he was providing the strength and comfort that I needed.

This was undoubtedly the most difficult thing I've ever tried to do. At the same time it was the most uplifting, inspiring, and by far the most humbling thing I've ever done. I wonder if Dad knew that by asking me to do something for him, he was actually doing something for me... again. It wouldn't surprise me if that was the case. He was sneaky like that sometimes.

After the prayer had ended and the chaplain had gone, there was an obvious calm about Dad and he never again mentioned any concern for Mom's well-being. I think he had finally made peace with that in his mind and his business was finished.

Then the revival service began! For those who have ever attended an old-fashioned Southern Baptist revival service, you know what I mean. Mom and I sat together in Dad's room and listened while Dad proceeded to thank God and praise God for anything and everything. He would appear to be asleep for a minute or two, then he would begin to speak with eyes closed and hands uplifted for a minute or two. this went on for about 3 hours. His words were clear and made perfect sense. For Dad, I'm sure he was simply talking to his Heavenly Father. For me, it was like the best unscripted sermon Dad had ever preached. At one point I leaned over to Mom and said, "I think it would be appropriate for us to give an Invitation and collect the Offering, because we just had the sermon."

I was not present in the room when Dad took his final breath, but I understand that it occurred peacefully during sleep, and for that I am grateful. I am also grateful that the most prominent memory I will have of my Dad is that he was still helping others (me) while praising God until the very end.

At the moment Dad entered the presence of God, I have no doubt that God said,
"Well done, thy good and faithful servant! Welcome home!"

A word of encouragement to all who may read this -
Stay close to your loved ones and love them like there's no tomorrow. Learn how to forgive and be forgiven. And above all, have faith in God. Life on this earth is too short for anything less.

Thank you for your indulgence and please continue to pray for Mom.

May God Bless Each of You,
Gary Dorris (proud son of Eldredge and Minnie Dorris)

Facing an empty nest... again

They say it's normal these days for young adult children (is that an oxymoron?) to yo-yo. That is to leave home, then come back, then leave again (lather, rinse, repeat... you get the idea). I guess it's comforting to know that our family is normal in this regard.

With the big news this week that Brent and Cyndi are buying their first house and could be moving out in about 4 give-or-take weeks, we find ourselves once again facing the empty nest syndrome (is it a real syndrome or did I just make that up?).

To Brent and Cyndi, let me say how very proud we are of you and what you've been able to accomplish. This is a really big step and to make this happen all on your own when just a year ago neither of you had a job, is pretty amazing. Some day in the future you'll think back to this time and take great pride and satisfaction in knowing that through your own will-power, determination, and discipline you achieved this great milestone which many people work for all their lives and never achieve. There will be plenty of time to dwell on the specifics of home ownership (you know, like fixing things, maintaining a yard, etc.), but for now you should spend some time thinking on a higher level. Like what does this mean to you as a couple, or how does this impact your relationship. If you let it, home ownership can bring a whole new set of issues into the relationship. But the good news is you've already shown that you are grounded with a good value set and that you can work through adversity together, so just keep doing what you're doing and everything should work out fine. Also, continue to love, trust, and respect each other and you'll be the happy king and queen of your castle forever.

Just as Brent and Cyndi will be thinking about what this means to them, Sheri and I will be thinking about what it means to us... empty nester's once again. All I can say is...

LET THE GOOD TIMES ROLL !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(I couldn't resist)

Throwing-things-mad, but feeling better now

Ok, so I didn't really throw anything, but I can't think of any other way to describe how displeased I was.

Here's the picture. This year is my 35 year service anniversary with... you know, that place I work for. I'm not sure I want to say the company name 'cause you never know when big brother might be watching. I knew a service award had been sent to my office so I went to work at the office today instead of working from home. I even knew what the service award was... not like it was a big surprise or anything. I just needed to go to the office to pick it up, and I need to go in periodically just to keep my building access card activated. So I get to the office and find the box and indeed it is exactly what I thought it was. Are you ready for this? It's a paper weight with my name engraved on it and the number 35. Granted, it's a fancy paper weight, but a paper weight nonetheless. Then I had a meeting scheduled and had to focus my attention elsewhere which is probably a good thing. As the day went by I would look over at the paper weight occassionally and just think to myself, "really, a paper weight... for 35 years??" On the brighter side, it's a perfect match for the one I got 5 years ago except that one has the number 30... otherwise, they're identical... a matching set. Well, I stewed about this all day long and when I was packing up to go home, I picked up the beautiful paper weight to put it back in its box. In the process I happened to look at the bottom and what do I see but a sticker proclaiming that my beautiful paper weight that I had been awarded for 35 long, faithful, dedicated, hard years was MADE IN CHINA!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now I'm fit to be tied. Are you freakin kiddin me???? Not only is it just a paper weight, but it's a cheap paper weight from the lowest cost provider!! I couldn't get out of that building fast enough and my poor truck took a little abuse on the way out of the parking lot.

I'm suddenly reminded of some lyrics to a Tennessee Ernie Ford song... "you load 16 tons and what do ya get, another day older and deeper in debt. St. Peter don'tcha call me 'cause I can't go. I owe my soul to the company store."

Now for the feeling better part... jump forward an hour or so. I had already decided that I was going to the gym to take out my frustrations on the machines which is exactly what I did. It was a really good workout and I stepped on the scales before leaving and found that I had lost 4 pounds. Finally, something to feel good about!

Happy in the head and hurting all over

First the hurting part. I joined a gym last weekend (pause for laughter to subside) and went tonight for the second time, this time working with a trainer. I'm sure I told him my age and that I'd never been to a gym and that I needed to start really slow. Apparently, none of that mattered because he pushed me to the limit. And afterwards, he had the nerve to try to sell me some private sessions with a trainer. Let's see, you just ran me through the proverbial wringer, made me feel like crap, and now you want me to pay you to do it again and again. I would laugh but I still feel like throwing up. Daniel, if you're reading this, you'll appreciate this part... the trainer was impressed with my calf muscles. He had me do 50 reps of a certain exercise for the calf muscles and it didn't phase me so a few minutes later he had me do 75 reps and it still didn't phase me. At least there's one part of my body that did me proud and doesn't hurt.

Now for the happy part. I went downstairs for another cup of coffee this morning and went through the dining room to get to the kitchen... by-passing the den where Cohen was playing. When Cohen saw me he toddled (I think that's a word) all the way across the kitchen with arms out-stretched and the biggest grin on his face and just sort of fell into me when I bent down to scoop him up. Memories from 25+ years ago came flooding back, reminding me of coming home from work to be greeted by my own toddling children. Yessir... that's my grandson!