Relaunch of my blog and answering the question, why do it?

Anti-climax has its place I suppose. This post was originally going to serve as my reentry into the blogosphere. News events prompted me to change that plan with a well-received blog post about Meryl Streep and Donald Trump.

Before that, I last posted a regular blog entry in mid-May as I retired from the Walter Cronkite School at Arizona State University.

I promised in that last post that during a planned hiatus, I would decide if I was going to continue the blog and exactly what form it would take if I did continue. I also needed to sort out why and whether I might continue.

This blog was born as McGuire on Life, Disability and Grief in August of 2014 out of three needs. A) I needed a broader canvas for my thoughts and feelings than my blog McGuire on Media offered me. B) I wanted a forum on disability to discuss my book, “Some People Even Take Them Home.” C) I needed to bare my soul about my grief after my late wife, Jean Fannin McGuire died in June of 2014.

My hope was that my personal experiences might offer comfort at the same time I provoked people to think deeply about grief and disability. I am convinced personal stories intrigue, stimulate and educate.

Contemplating the relaunch of the blog forced me to confront why I should do it. The truth is writing the blog on any kind of a regular schedule is perilously close to work and I just retired from that practice.

Rumination led me to realize that writing is not really work for me. It’s how I think. I add flesh and blood to all the weird ramblings in my head by writing. I need to write.

I also need to touch people. Few things make me as happy as the realization that my writing touched someone. My book, “Some People Even Take Them Home”  did not sell near as many copies as I’d like. Yet, writing that book is one of the most satisfying experiences of my life. I know it affected some people profoundly. For a writer, all you really need is to affect one person.

I admit to a deep desire to encourage people to think through issues and prompt them see things in a new light. I completely understand my opinions are my  opinions and I am wrong a lot. Writing on a public blog allows the give and take from an audience that will make you painfully aware of your errors in judgment and will applaud your successes.

So that’s why I am relaunching the blog. I changed the name to McGuire on Life so that all the old subjects are fair game, but I can also broaden my canvas to include travel, retirement and the people I meet on those new adventures.

I am still disabled. I still have a disabled son. I still think a lot about illness and grief even though I have found a delightful new love. Those topics will remain a part of this blog.

After I retired, I needed new business cards. My new card says Tim J. McGuire, Life Enthusiast.

At root, that is who I am.  To the frequent consternation of the two women I have lived with, I wake up every morning bubbling and happy and usually stay that way all day.

We are at the point in American history where too many people are  struggling to be enthusiastic about their spirituality, their politics and their futures. I don’t propose a Pollyanna approach. If I were to redo those business cards I might make it  “Realistic Life Enthusiast.”

I hope you will find that describes these blog posts.

Tim J. McGuire is the author of “Some People Even Take Them Home.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I still don’t like cats but the journey with Clawd and Clementine teaches me a lot

My Dad hated cats. My early love of boxing and my life-long dislike of cats was clearly learned behavior at my Dad’s knee.

When my daughter married a man with a cat I was horrified. Things failed to improve when I met said cat and his successor cat. My dislike for the species catus is legendary. On my late wife’s deathbed she overheard a hospice worker ask me if we had any pets. When I replied “Hell no, I hate pets,” my sarcastic-to-the-end wife told my daughter, “There is no way he can divorce me now, let’s talk cat.” Actually, Jean had never been that anxious for a cat, but the line was funny and demonstrates how much my dislike of cats is rooted in my family’s culture.

The astute among you have more than an inkling of where this is going. Late last year a woman I had been friends with at the Minneapolis Star Tribune contacted me to offer sympathy upon my wife’s death. We had been good work friends in Minneapolis, but not such good friends that I knew she was a cat person.

As we rekindled our friendship and that friendship showed the potential of something much more, Candace  made it clear she had two cats. She credited the cats with getting her through her own grief when her husband, David, died late in 2011. It was abundantly clear that if the relationship had any future at all, the cats were going to be a part of that future. To this moment, the thing that impresses my daughter Tracy the most about my marriage to Candace Hadley McGuire is that the cats were not a deal breaker.

Now, this is a real-life story and not a fairy tale, so I am not going to come before you to testify I fell madly in love with Clawd and Clementine. I still don’t really like them and I get terribly antsy when they jump up on my bed. In my heart of hearts, I believe they are plotting against me. And yet, I have developed a genuine appreciation for the two felines and for Candace’s love for them.

I swear the cats often seem to talk to Candace and she talks back! A year ago I would have scoffed mightily at the notion that the three of them communicate in any way. Now I am not so sure.

The other day I grabbed for a tie on a tie hanger in our closet and I dropped it. As I reached for the tie on the floor I grabbed some cat. After my record leap in the air I realized I had discovered Clementine’ top-secret hiding place that neither I, nor Candace, knew about. Cut to a day later when Clementine was whining incessantly to Candace. Candace was almost at her wit’s end when she followed the cat into our bedroom and realized that the closet door to Clementine’s secret hiding place was closed. Candace opened it and all was well. That impresses the heck out of someone who has always believed cats were incapable of communication.

Clementine does not seem well and that has made Candace very sad because she believes she is about to lose her long-time companion and savior. And anything that makes my lovely new wife sad, makes me sad. A year ago I would have been sympathetic but not very empathetic. That has changed.

Don’t hold your breath for me to become a cat lover, but by opening my mind and watching the incredible bond between two cats and an extremely intelligent woman I think I finally get it. After a lifetime of closing my mind, I understand that it just might be possible that the creatures really do relate to humans on a deep and important level that demands respect and even a little awe.

My tolerance and respect for cats is growing, but I still wish they’d stay off my bed!

Tim J McGuire is the author of “Some People Even Take Them Home” A Disabled Dad, A Down Syndrome Son and Our Journey To Acceptance

Somebody down the street always has it worse

One morning last week I had terrible trouble buttoning the top button on my dress shirt. My right arm and hand are largely decorative, as opposed to functional, so such simple tasks can be difficult. It may strike you as a silly frustration but for the briefest moment I felt just a little sorry for myself.

As suddenly as that emotion hit me it was replaced by the thought of my friend Jennifer Longdon who struggles with the very genuine difficulties of navigating a wheelchair and the debilitating troubles brought on by a random highway shooter several years ago. Jennifer recounts her challenges often on Facebook and any friend of hers quickly comes to realize the real pain of disability.

I felt foolish for lamenting my trivial challenge when many people like Jennifer know genuine pain and obstacles from hell.

Actually I learned that lesson very early in my life and I tell the story in my book, “Some People Even Take Them Home.”

When I was 11 or so and still in a pediatric ward I contracted an infection and was placed in protective isolation to protect against the dangerous spread of mysterious bacteria to other patients and staff. Everybody who came into my room, from nurses to doctors to Mom, donned surgical robes and masks.

As I wrote in the book: “The desolation and loneliness of that imprisonment were suffocating until two surprising teachers arrived to show me how fortunate I was.

In the room next to me were two young people I never met. They had as profound an effect on me as anyone else in my 64 years. They were two-year-old twin boys and they had been severely burned in a Saginaw, MI house fire. I knew the boys only by their constant and hideous screams. They were critically injured and their skin was obviously gravely tender. I listened to them yell in agony for hours on end. Horrible, piercing cries communicated unbearable torment.”

Even at my tender age I was sharp enough to realize that my own infection was small potatoes. Those boys taught me the true meaning of suffering but I vividly remember the slow dawning of a vital truth.

I have no idea if those little boys survived. I pray they did. What did survive was the belief burned into me that somebody down the street, or around the corner, or in the next hospital room always, always, has it worse than I do. That’s why I try so hard to smile through tough times. I hope those screaming, crying boys have made me more caring and more generous.

A little thing like that damned shirt button serves to remind me how grateful I need to be.

Tim J McGuire is the author of “Some People Even Take Them Home” A Disabled Dad, A Down Syndrome Son and Our Journey To Acceptance

Divorces produce grief too

As I have discussed grief with people since the death of my late wife Jean last year, a difficult truth has dawned on me. For a lot of divorced people grief is the only effective word to describe their experience.

Certainly the permanence and finality of death make that a very different process. However, I am repeatedly struck by the deep sense of loss that divorced people disclose. I talked to a man last week who referred to three or four years of desperation that blocked him from moving forward. Another man I know is fighting despondency in ways that are achingly similar to the way spouses grieve over death.

In no way am I trying to put divorce and the loss of a spouse to death on the same plane. They are different just because of the permanence and hopelessness that death brings.

In divorce, there is often betrayal, guilt and regret that magnify the loss. But when a spouse dies, I know from personal experience that even when the marriage has been very good, there is serious second guessing and worry about whether you treated your beloved the way she/he deserved to be treated.

We all know that we should be deeply sorry when someone loses a spouse to death. The essence of my point is that we should also be sorry when a person loses a spouse to divorce. The divorced person is often, but not always, feeling a similar sense of  loss, loneliness and especially onliness which I wrote about in this post.

The ongoing reality of my own grief, and now after falling in love and marrying a woman who grieved the loss of her husband, I am coming to appreciate the singularity of the impact of losing a spouse to death. Yet, I am also coming to realize that a deep sense of loss over a divorce, a lost job or a devastating illness carries with it a somewhat similar load of emotional upheaval.

One of the most distinguishing reactions after losing a spouse to death is the almost indescribable loss of control over every aspect of your life. That is accompanied by a gripping sense that nothing can ever be the same again. That arouses great sympathy for the grieving spouse as it should.

I only submit here that divorced men and women deserve some modicum of the same empathy because their loss is also painfully and deeply disruptive.

Tim J McGuire is the author of “Some People Even Take Them Home” A Disabled Dad, A Down Syndrome Son and Our Journey To Acceptance

We can learn important life lessons from how companies treat their clients

I have had several encounters with businesses trying to serve my needs recently. I think I came away from those encounters with new insights about how we ought to treat people.

Over the weekend at my wedding, Pittsburgh Blue, a wonderful Minnesota restaurant, and a catering company called Fabulous Catering, dramatically exceeded my expectations and delivered a tremendous customer experience. The rehearsal dinner at Pittsburgh Blue and the reception catered by Fabulous, were wonderfully executed by committed staff and people who genuinely cared for clients.

Last week, in Phoenix, my new wife and I were ignored and made to feel as if we were the business’s last priority. It was pretty clear that the Phoenix business had internal problems and challenges that were more important to them than the customer’s needs.

As I have reflected in the last few days, it is clear to me that the Minnesota businesses made us number 1 and they were totally invested in creating a positive experience. They understood that a marriage is a very big deal and that their companies were not just catering events, they were building lasting memories. They behaved accordingly. They were outwardly focused.

The Phoenix company was dealing with a very sensitive issue for us. In our minds, our case was the most important in the world. The Phoenix company did not act as if they recognized that. The company representative acted as if her needs trumped ours.

My close friend, Pat Dawson, actually consults on customer experience. This is a major line of inquiry for companies attempting to raise profits through better relationships with customers.

My interest in this subject is different and more personal. I wonder how many of us really attempt to appreciate that the person we are dealing with is totally focused on their own predicament and they want our help to escape. Many of us complain that “she is totally focused on herself,” or “he only thinks about me,me,me!” What part of that surprises us?

We do the same thing, yet we often expect others to put aside their own self-interests. Many of us have been taught the golden rule, to treat others as we would want to be treated. But there’s a serious problem there in that many people do not share our expectations and standards. A more appropriate approach is to treat people the way they want to be treated.

That sort of thinking allows us to meet the other person where they are. It recognizes that their fears, and uncertainties are real to them even if you find those fears silly. If we treat people the way they want to be treated we validate them in ways we cannot if we cling to our own rules and expectations.

Tim J McGuire is the author of “Some People Even Take Them Home” A Disabled Dad, A Down Syndrome Son and Our Journey To Acceptance