The Kitchen Dispatch

The Medical Practice and Why Money Motivated Us

2012-01-27T06:55:00.000-08:00

Note: I hope you will click on all the links.

The insult came over lunch. "Private medicine and hospitals are motivated by money," said someone in the military. They gave me a look, like I could never understand what it was like to have sick patients.

It dawned on me. To them, I was just a snotty surgeon's wife who was sitting there having spent her entire life playing Marcus Welby MD. They probably thought we played golf on Wednesdays and that I had my hair and nails done on Monday, followed by tennis at the country club. Of course, it would never dawn on them how I got here.

But I couldn't say much. Because anyone who comes in from business knows, no one cares about your issues. The small practice or business owner wants to know: "Can you handle the job? Can you bring it in on time? Can you do it in a way that is efficient, well mannered, and profitable? Do you treat people well? Are you going to fit in?"

But still, I can't let this stereotype just sit there. No. Because the group of civilian medical practitioners that I know, the very ones who are seeing a mindblowing 500 patients a day in the ER at trauma centers in major metropolitan cities deserve better than to be thought of greedy, self serving money whores. Because they are not. They're in a trench that lasts them a lifetime, with absolutely no guarantee of a pension and the only question that both the heathen insurance companies and Medicare/Medicaid have is: Will you do it and how little can we pay you? And then they both run over the physicians, hospitals and staffs.

Physicians today --whether in individual, or small groups, wonder whether or not insurance companies are going to pay out. Their administrators will often have the numbers of two CFO's of different healthcare organizations on speed dial in order to badger them to pay what has been billed. The physician has to work their tail off in order to come up with quarterly payments to malpractice insurers --a healthy chunk. There is also payroll to be made, and one must be diligent and pay the payroll taxes at the same time by sending them into the state. The practice owner looks at their staff and realizes that every purchase made by them (a car, their children's clothing, or medicine) was because of the hard work that everyone in the business performs as a team. Without money, we couldn't run the practice to help patients. Without money, my employees couldn't feed their kids.

I cannot and will not speak for other physicians, but we were always motivated first to provide the highest quality medical and surgical care in a compassionate and disciplined setting. However, money is important. We just see money in a different way.

The small business owner sees money as a necessary resource to grow and fulfill professional and personal dreams; to be able to pay their employees well and to provide sustenance for their family. Money bought us equipment, helped us make our quarterly taxes on time, and all the other payments that come with a business.

When we had our practice, we didn't take a vacation for four years. We worked on an average of 60-80 hours a week. Our appointments were double booked, and often the wait to see us was several weeks. We were on call 24/7. Everyone had our phone numbers. As the administrator of the practice, what worried me was coming up with the $18,000 minimum each month to keep the doors open. That's just what it cost to run the practice each month. Anything over that was ours. Admittedly, there were months when we'd sweat --wondering if Blue Cross, Aetna, United Healthplan, or any other combination of IPA's would pay out enough after having taken their cut, so we could make both mortgage and office rent. But don't forget: it was all pre-tax. Our profit was less than a fireman, higher- paid teachers, and realtors. But don't get me wrong: while it was hard, we also loved it. When we closed it we were at the top of our game and we found all our employees jobs. Ironically, we netted much less than what we are making now. My husband drove a used Toyota truck, then. Today he has a souped up Mustang.

Something most people in the service don't realize: the small business or practice owner always pays their employees first, the payroll taxes second, rent, expenses and themselves last. It's a common formula, and if one is lucky it goes smoothly and the owner gets the lion's share. But it takes every waking moment to get there. That's our story, and it would behoove those in the military who might think they will never be motivated by money to perhaps look at it in a slightly different light. Money allows business owners to support themselves while serving others. I would argue: military medicine must also be motivated by money in that they must work very efficiently with the dollars entrusted to them by the tax payers.

I'm cognizant that our Army paychecks are only possible because of the hard toil of small business and practice owners everywhere. Am I thankful for their toil? Yes. Are small businesses motivated by providing a good service? Yes. Are they motivated by money? Yes, and I'm grateful for it.
(And by the way, I am still a small business owner).

West 2012: Possible Pastry Crimes by the Power House Three

2011-12-03T06:00:00.000-08:00

Free Registration Here!

I know. It's only December, and already I'm looking at the calendar for 2012.
January is going to be a busy one.
I was anticipating West 2012, probably the best conference for me to go to because

Bootstrap USA

It's military related.
It's free.
There's lots of smart people who go.
I was hoping my friend Eric Walrabenstein, developer of Bootstrap Stress Management, a free program designed for veterans would show up.
An assortment of smart asses are going to be there.
Those smart asses are my friends.

So, Boston Maggie, Mary Ripley of the U.S. Naval Institute and myself are going to be there. The question is whether or not it would be okay for the three powerhouses to stay at the same hotel. I mean, really, there is only so much combustion a building can take --rather the other guests can endure before mass happiness breaks out, and suddenly everyone in the hotel is giggling.
Or so I think.
But what I hadn't anticipated all those months ago was that The Hubs would be assuming the command of a new unit at Ft. Bliss.

On the same dates. Or thereabouts. The unit really isn't sure if it will be 20 January or 24 January.
So if it's on the 24, this means I have to get back from El Paso on the 25th. I'll have to deposit Daughter at a friend's house, say hello to my cat and dog, then high tail it down to San Diego.

And then, we will have at least one night of infectious giggling, snorting, random tweets and pastry crimes.
The kind of tweets that just cause everyone to think: they've lost it.
Can the Navy brass handle us? Mary says there's a yoga studio downstairs. I intend to shove everyone in it, have them in downward dog, then walk around with a feather duster and tickle them.

Rants: Small and Large. Yoga Annoyances & Military Frauds

2011-11-30T20:32:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I'm back. And for those of you who would like to throttle me, well, too bad. It's already been done.

WarRetreat.Org is going well. We continue to get hits from the yoga community, and hopefully they'll figure out that the VA isn't going to do everything. I mean, not to single them out. But they are a particularly narcissistic crowd and quite frankly I find a lot of them just annoying. I enjoy yoga as an exercise, I just don't put a lot of stock into the community when it comes to understanding war and peace.

A lot of people in the yoga community think what most other civilians do: the VA will handle all of the problems of veterans. In fact, the #1 question from yoga teachers is how they can get hired by the VA to teach yoga.
But that's so opposite of how I think.
Look, public health has never handled the mental health needs of the population as well as it ought. Why? Well, for all the money we put into splitting monies between social workers, psychiatrists, psychologists, and other therapists in the public sector, the demand will always outstrip the supply. And that doesn't make for a very successful outcome all the time. So where WarRetreat.Org comes in is to encourage yoga doers to work within the yoga community and the non-yoga business world to find financial resources to address needs for veterans.

Look, there's enough money in the yoga industry alone (some people estimate it's a $5-6 Billion a year industry) to fund yoga classes in communities large and small. There's enough money in large corporations to put a yoga DVD into the house of every combat veteran. As my friend Paul Zipes, founder of Yoga For Vets, said to me, "The role of the military is to fight, kill, and win." That's what I like about Paul. He's a yoga guy, but in his soul he is 100% warrior (Navy). Always. So really, the civilian community --i.e. the business community, can really make a difference stepping forward for veterans. Government funding is such a slow moving beast, really --we don't have the time to wait.

The other news is that I learned of a fraudster in Orange County. Apparently, there's a woman who surfaced over a year ago, with varying stories of woe. We'll call her "Mama Fraudster." She posted on Dear Deployment, I Hate You, as well as other military spouse sites she had lost her boyfriend in combat in Afghanistan. When asked for the name, she gave a KIA date, plus name and rank. However, when one of the wives went to look it up on the DoD, it wasn't there. Mama Fraudster then gave a different name to someone else.
Here were the two names: Andy Mittendorf and Andy Hernandez.
Really, you can't get two names that are more different. And neither Andy Mittendorf nor Andy Hernandez had been listed as wounded or treated at a military hospital, or deceased. You see, very well-placed people looked for him at Landstuhl and through data bases after being moved by her story and emails.
By the way, Andy Mittendorf is a U.S. Soccer player.
Anyway, she told one of the wives she was having his child. This good soul then wanted to toss a baby shower for the Mama Fraudster. She was going to ask people to send her gift cards.
That's when everything fell apart.
A Facebook warning was posted, and Mama Fraudster's Facebook ID was outed.
An all-day long fight ensued.
Mama Fraudster claimed she was "fat" not pregnant (ouch!). She back peddled by saying she met a man, and fell in love, and she knew him as Andy. A real man mystery. Or is that bedstery?

She called military wives and girlfriends not nice things in CAPITAL LETTERS. Some military wives who decided to overlook the fact that Andy Mittendorf or Andy Hernandez had been searched for and not found on databases, decided to support Mama Fraudster anyway. A woman who claims to be a Major and worked as a doctor for 2 years in the Army sided with Mama Fraudster too.
Upon checking the Army Major Doctor's profile --she listed Chick-Fil-A as "a great place to work."
Shit. Things go down hill for Army Majors who are Doctors.
Then the suspense grew...well, but only if you're into conspiracy theories.
Her friend claimed that the reason there was no DoD notice was because Andy Mittendorf or Andy Hernandez was Special Ops.
Now you tell me, why is every fraud claim to be Special Ops?
His death was supposedly covered up, and his sister and parents were placed in protective custody.
Yeah, this gets better and better.
Some digging around, and we couldn't a listing on Zaba Search for Mama Fraudster in Costa Mesa where she claims to live.
Even her name is a fraud. Or maybe she's Special Ops too.

So stay tuned.

The Final Chapter?

2011-11-12T22:50:00.000-08:00

I'm really undecided about this blog. The KD was the blog I started as a way to find my way in this military landscape three years ago. I took my existing writing and editing skills --used for literary fiction, book reviews, and writing posts and applied them here. The result was a marvelous journey where I met a lot of friends, got my feet wet, and while coming to grips about this new life.

I feel I've posted some fine writing on this blog. But I also feel --like a good book, some blogs must come to an end. It might be time for this one to have its final chapter. What I've learned about myself is the best favor I can do the military community is to be myself. Because anything else would be a compromise, too boring, and way too contrived. And I'm at an age, where really --I don't have the time for a charade.

The sequel to this blog (of course) is one that I have been spending more time on: WarRetreat. It's oriented to addressing the needs of our service members and their families in the aftermath of war through stress reduction. Jillian and I have been writing it in consultation with the wonderful Dave Emerson, and also with input from Paul Zipes. The feedback is positive: we've become a bridge from the military side into the yoga community. We have an opportunity to make a difference in the lives of a new generation of service members coming home in small communities across the U.S.

I've always felt the future well being of veterans should not be the sole responsibility of the V.A. or the military itself. I've also felt that a lot of people get caught up in philosophical discussions about war, and prefer to stay in that zone because helping veterans is too darn hard.

But for all the talk, and even though we all give much needed money to national organizations, the question that packs the most punch is whether or not our efforts are making a difference for the veterans in our community. PTSD is a community concern: if someone can't sleep, if they can't hold down a job, if they can't get along with others, and if they cease to believe in themselves, then the direct impact is on the people they love, and those with whom they work.

By sharing empirical data gleaned from studies about trauma and stress, WarRetreat can serve as a useful tool to not only help those suffering, but those who want to help, find pathways to work together. While Kitchen Dispatch will always be my home, WarRetreat is the need that beckons me more everyday. I think I can bring the same aesthetic sensibilities that I've used on the KD, and before that Easy-Writer to War Retreat. But the truth is --I can't do them both at a level that would make me pleased. Three years --have I run out of steam? Not quite. But I sense the rails are shifting to a different plain.

As one prepares to leave Afghanista, Another Arrives

2011-10-15T23:25:00.000-07:00

BabaTim is getting ready to exit Afghanistan. Catch his latest post on his blog, Free Range International. It's called Diplomacy 101, and you'll find out why. It's hilarious.

Artist Skip Rohde has deployed again. He's a contractor in Afghanistan. Last year, he was in Iraq working with the Army Corps of Engineers (I think). Catch his updates on Storypaintings.

Our House, The Cat, Dog, The Swiffer

2011-10-11T23:50:00.000-07:00

The main reason for Swiffering

Because I cannot regale you of gunfights a la BabaTim of Free Range International, I' can only tell you about my preoccupation with this house.

We've been cleaning a lot as of late. I've discovered the Swiffer family. Meaning, Swiffer as in those little things that you push around. Swiffers are the tribbles of household cleaning products. First you buy one product, and then another, and suddenly there's an entire closet filled with white fluffy things in plastic tubs, and in boxes. There is never a time when there isn't a bit of swiffering to do around this dustbin of a house, (and I'm also amused over the new verb --to swiffer, to have swiffered, am swiffering). Anyway, swiffering is sort of like using a tape roller. You can't help but notice how much dog and cat fur the pad picks up. My small mammals aren't much into learning how to swiffer, so I've thought of just wrapping their paws in Swiffer materials and letting them pick up their own fur.

The only place I have yet to conquer is under the fridge. Watch this, to find what Simon's Cat finds.

Essay: Why I'm Not Running For President

2011-10-08T13:08:00.000-07:00

Three weeks ago, I succumbed to the gentle deterioration of middle age and had Lasik eye surgery. I had always resisted what seemed to me to be a barbaric sounding operation. My impressions of it came from an old photo from the 1970's showing Russians doing this surgery routinely. I remember it clearly, a machine, with patients lying down on tables encircling it. It seemed a beastly thing, ghastly, and perhaps I had watched too many episodes of The Twilight Zone. But three things happened: the surgery has gotten leaps and bounds better utilizing an Excimer laser, which to my way of thinking is stronger than Kryptonite. Over the years, my lenses were of such increasing thickness the weight made my head weary. Plus, I could no longer read without taking off my glasses, and holding the paper 8" from my face. It was a reminder that my parts were getting worn out.

The Hubs came home from Afghanistan, and I told him I was going to take a stash of savings and pay to have it done. He thought it was a good idea --as he pointed out the surgery is calibrated by some big jumbo computer in some cloud somewhere and the data is constantly being re-calibrated. Obviously, I wasn't paying too much attention, or I could explain it better here. But he drove me over, and checked out the office --a slick office building in the ritzy part of Orange County. We met the surgeon, a fine fellow, and that was that. $4600 cash, and I was set to go. I had to wait a few weeks after The Hubs had left because the surgeon doc was going to Fiji, and I was going to wrestle with Hurricane Irene.

Come the day of surgery, best friend Pam gamely drove me to the surgery center. Pam had the option of waiting, or accompanying me and watching the surgery through a glass window as though it were a pay-per-view channel. Wisely, she opted for the comfort of a good book. I was led through a procession of specialists who knew the drill. I followed, which was even easier after they gave me the 1 gram of Xanax. The operation went off without a hitch --I think the grand total for the actual surgery took less than ten minutes. But the most peculiar thing happened afterward. The surgeon completed the work and then said, "Quick, sit up, you and I are going to have our picture taken together."

I had been lasered and Xanaxed, so I sat up on the table, the surgeon sitting next to me. Before I had time to think about smoothing my hair, or holding out a thumbs up, or giving my surgeon the bunny ear treatment behind his head, the nurse clicked away. I thought it odd then, and when I got the actual photo delivered to my email the following week, found it positively bizarre. It's all shrewd marketing, a ploy to get people to reflect enthusiastically after their operation and give a positive review through social networking. In other words, I could help their business handsomely, add to the already persistent ads on pop ups by giving it a yelp, or a Facebook "like."

I shook my head when I thought of all the untapped possibilities we had missed in our own private surgical practice: hernia repair, gallstone or gallbladder removal, hemmoridectomies would have been good as they relieved people from pain. "My surgeon took the pain out of my ass," would have been a common recommendation. However, the most compelling testimonials would have been from patients who had undergone life saving operations --trauma or cancer surgeries. I doubt any of our patients would have sat up on the table next to The Hubs while waiting to have their photo snapped. We would have had to snap their pic while they were still down, tubes in place, maybe ask them to crack a smile right when the anesthesia wore off.

Anyway, I've decided not to run for President of the United States. I know this is of great disappointment to all of you, but I'd rather save myself the humiliation of having this photo leaked to the press. My eyes are light sensitive, and I find wearing sunglasses while computering eases the stress. It's very Hollywood, a dash St. Tropez, but neither Panda or Louie think twice about it. They're just grateful I won't be running for President.

Restrepo Wins The Emmy

2011-09-26T23:41:00.000-07:00

I knew it had been nominated, knew the date and location. But I couldn't bring myself to focus too much on the awards after our loss at the Oscars. So late tonight, I got word: we won.
It's wonderful, quietly victorious and bittersweet. The PR team did so much work last year in a short amount of time. We coalesced into a permanent bond --which has been made even more so after Tim was killed.

The week after he died, he and Sebastian were due to be honored by the IAVA in Hollywood. Laura, and I didn't want him to go along. Neither did Dan Richardson, a Battle Company soldier. So we met up with him, and the four of us followed each other around all night, as like ducks in a row, or as Dan said, "My little fire team."

I'm blogging a lot at the WarRereat.Org site that I set up to accomodate the War Photographers' Retreat. I've got two great posts up today about Tim. It's a departure from what we usually do (talk about trauma-sensitive yoga, PTSD, etc etc), but Tim will always be a presence. Check out our logo, and see if you can find his name.

Gold Star Mothers Day

2011-09-25T08:53:00.000-07:00

First, Today is Gold Star Mother's Day. We honor the mothers who have lost a son or daughter who died while serving in the U.S. Armed Forces. Gold Star Mothers was formed in 1928, ten years after Grace Darling Seibold lost her son, 1stLt. George Vaughn Seibold, in WWI. The office was established in Washington, D.C., where it remains today.

The Gold Star is the symbol for a family member who has died while in the Armed Forces.
Despite the current conflicts, more than half of their members are from the Vietnam era.
When they get together for a public event, they wear white.
They have chapters in many states.

Here is their schedule for Sunday, September 25.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Everyone is invited for all events:
8:00 a.m. Vietnam Wall Wreath Laying with visit to Arlington National Cemetery, Section 60 immediately following.
1:00 p.m. Depart for Arlington National Cemetery.
2:00 p.m. Ceremony at Arlington National Cemetery (or Ft. Myer Chapel in case of rain).
3:00 p.m. Wreath laying at Tomb of the Unknowns.
4:00 p.m. Open House at National Headquarters.

Choosing Life Over Facebook

2011-09-24T04:09:00.000-07:00

Oh, Facebook. You were fun, but you are like the friend who keeps changing and getting faster, and sharing really stupid things with me (Farmville, Mafia Wars) that I don't really care about. And now.... the the friend is prone to rants and rambles (long status updates in a feed that amount to a solid page of text). The zing has gone out of it.

So I am back here on my blog. I will do more pictures.

9-17-2011

Book Recommendation: Reading New York by John Tytell

2011-09-20T10:14:00.000-07:00

"Books are like canned goods stored for the winter.

We reach for them when an emotional or

intellectual part of us needs to be fed."

Often, I receive email from soldiers or family members who want to write a book. They want to know how to get published. But that's not a question I or anyone else can answer without first nudging them onto the path of reading.

As I've written in the past on my other (now inactive) literary blogs, one learns to write well by reading. I'm not going to go into whether or not you should read the classics, or the merits about reading one genre over the other. The truth is, we gravitate to different things, and most of you are not students, but back from war and you want to get your story out. However, remember that we are influenced not only by what we have experienced (and war is at the top of the list of BIG), but also by what we read. So here's my advice: read a lot. Read inside and outside of your preferred genre. Read about things you know nothing about, or read books your friends would never believe you are reading. Why? Well, if you've been through a war, you shouldn't give a damn what anyone thinks if you're reading Alan Ginsberg's "Howl," poetry by Emily Dickinson, along with Lee Child's latest Jack Reacher story. After all, I only read poetry, Lee Child, and Jane Austen when my husband goes off to war. For this, I offer no explanation.

But by going outside of your preferred genre, you will learn a lot, and stretch yourself as both reader and writer. Since growth is a desired outcome on a writer's path, exploring your own boundaries can be a desirable pursuit.

Well, I guess I could have taken the price tag off.

Right now, I'm thoroughly engrossed in John Tytell's Reading New York. I found this a few years ago, and like so many other books --let it languish in a pile. I tell you this because it happens to everyone, and there's nothing wrong with it. But books are things we collect, anticipating that one day we'll need them. Books are like canned goods stored up for the winter. We reach for them when an emotional or intellectual part of us needs to be fed. Hence, Reading New York is the transition for me back to the writing I love, the type of writing that I have been absent from since War strutted onto my sofa and took up a permanent space.

John Tytell presents us with an opportunity to remember. Where were you when you read a particular book? What were you experiencing, and what revelations occurred to you when reading it, and how did they influence the path you're on?

Tytell, an English professor at Queens College, and an author of many books, gives the reader a wonderful literary map of his own life, shows us what he was doing and experiencing while he was discovering Whitman, Poe, Henry James, Henry Miller, Kerouac and many others. He gives us insight into their lives, making them human by showing us parts of their lives that formed how they thought, taking away the barriers that sometimes form as the result of being rushed through their works in a high school or college course. There's no test at the end of this book, so reading it is pure pleasure.

New York City is the backdrop for the writers, and Tytell himself. The city is a lifelike presence, changing over the centuries, alternately the bane and savior for many a writer. We see Tytell's understanding of the city changing as he goes from Poe to Kerouac, ultimately finding the space he desires (at least on the weekends and the summer) in a cottage in Vermont. There's much to be admired about this book --the fine writing, the making of such icons of literature into beings we can relate to. At the end, I wanted to read more but life goes on beyond the end of a book.

For those of us who suffer under the cacophony of social networking, tire of the bluster of blogs, are wary of the seduction of a Facebook "Like," Reading New York takes us to the fertile ground of reading and writing. This is the stuff that fuels our imagination, softens the world, and reveals a perspective to help us catch our breath and continue forward.

On Healing: A Mother Finds Soft Ground

2011-09-16T08:04:00.000-07:00

Note. Lt.Col. Paul Fanning recently retired as the head of Public Affairs for the NY Army National Guard. Paul and his team at the NY Army National Guard, and also the event planning staff at the NY State Museum, were instrumental in planning for the screening of the war documentary Restrepo in Albany. It was the best screening of the film (something I hope to repeat with them on a different project some day). Subsequently, we met at Tim Hetherington's memorial in NYC. Paul was also a participant at our recent War Photographers' Retreat in Cambridge MA. These are his thoughts written to me on 9/11/2011. With his and Vicki DiMura's permission, they're being shared here.

By Paul Fanning

Kanani –Enjoyed reading your entry about the retreat. I’ve been telling people how great it was. I am sharing this photo that was sent to me last week. The woman in the shot with me is Vicki DiMura, the mother of the late Sgt. David Fisher. The shot (below) was taken on July 2 at her wedding reception. She is remarried and has moved from NY to CT.

Vicki was one of the mom’s I helped as best I could after the death of her son in Iraq in the fall of 2005. Shortly after I came home from Afghanistan at the end of 2008 I met her at our state headquarters and she told me that she had just been hired by our Family Program Office for our Yellow Ribbon Re-Integration Program.
She gave us her son and then wanted to help us — help other military families re-unite after a deployment. She was a blessing beyond words and all of us there benefited from her efforts and what she taught us about healing and growing. I had many conversations with her from Feb 2009 through June 2011, while she worked at the state headquarters.
Her son was painted by Texas artist Phil Taylor of the American Fallen Soldiers Project. I told her about him in 2009 and I made sure to include her in a number of efforts and special projects as we could. We also featured her son and his service in the museum exhibit in Albany in 2010.
To see her expression and know that she is happy again and in many ways fulfilled means a lot to me and all of us who know and worked with her. I remember how it was for her back in that dark period only a few years ago.
Healing and growing is possible and this is what the photo means to me.

On Moving Forward: "Freedom is not safety, but opportunity."

2011-09-12T13:41:00.000-07:00

After WWII, many students and graduates from Harvard's Law School did not return. The names of the men who died in service are engraved over the entrance of the Treasure Room in Langdell Hall of the Harvard Law Library. This is the dedication, and it's something for everyone --most especially those who are returning home from these present wars, to hold and remember.
Click to bigify:

"It is for us to carry on the work they were not permitted to complete."

9/11: On Kindness

2011-09-10T00:14:00.000-07:00

I'm sharing this photo taken last week, when I was waiting for my flight to take me home to L.A. from the eastern seaboard airport shutdown caused by Hurricane Irene. That's my bag, purchased from a surf shop many years ago. It's a favorite because no one else would want it. The flip flops, the surf bag --it's my frame of mind as I write this.

I'm thinking about a flurry of small mindedness, cynicism and meanness seen on the internet directed at friends, and even a spate of it sent to me. People forget that a medium which brings people together, has the same potential to be used to castigate and harass. There's little to do when a virtual "friend" acts like a rabid dog. One thing for sure: you really can't get involved with their own self-loathing. Life is far too short for that.

Anyway, I'm supposed to write how 9/11 changed everything for me. But it's too self indulgent, being that as a long-time blogger, I've done that before. So all I can come up with is a lesson learned from it, that enables me not to engage with the bullshit described above.

Hopefully, what 9/11 did for many of us was help us find the courage to tap into a reservoir of kindness at times when we just want to run away and hide from someone in need. Simple things. A nod, a smile, maybe a kind word, or donating --as so many of you do, to causes and needs. Kindness can also mean knowing what not to say, or being wise enough not to start a tornado where none needs to be. Frankly, I think kindness is a great way to honor those who died that horrible day, and also to all those who have sacrificed whether by serving in the military, working as a contractor, or staying home and doing good works for everyone affected by war.

It's a small thing. But as the ultimate New Yorker, the late Brooke Astor once said in an interview: "It's much easier to be nice to everybody. It makes your life much much easier, if you are pleasant."

The fabulous Brooke Astor

Help is available. Pass Around. Post. Tweet.

2011-09-08T09:00:00.000-07:00

How Yoga-Doers Can Help In A Time Of War

2011-09-07T19:07:00.000-07:00

War Retreat Co-Founder Dave Emerson (center) with War Correspondent Dave Tobin, and Former NY Army National Guard Public Affairs Officer LTC (ret) Paul Fanning

This summer was spent co-founding and organizing the War Photographers' Retreat. It was the perfect project for me, being that it allowed me to work through the loss of a friend, and also implement taking a community-based approach in regards to the outcome of war. I'm going to nail down my perspective on community events as they pertain to yoga-doers, but first I'll give some background on the retreat.

Kulae

The War Photographers' Retreat was held in honor of Tim Hetherington. It was spearheaded by David Emerson, who for the last decade or more has taught yoga to survivors of complex, chronic, post traumatic stress disorder. This includes veterans, children, adolescents and women. His work in Brookline MA with Bessel van der Kolk gives Dave a front row seat into research being done that gauges the efficacy of yoga use in the treatment of PTSD. His work alongside with clinicians is invaluable, and he spreads his work by offering training at Kripalu, as well as sharing it with communities in need in the greater Boston area.

Our retreat was 25-28 August in Cambridge MA. We were fortunate because "big" yoga signed on, offering us free stuff to give to our participants. It wasn't so much that they sent us things, it was finding out that they were interested in our work with war. This was very very exciting to be able to share our work with Kulae, Jade Yoga Mats, prAna, and China Gel. We hope they will continue to follow us.

prAna

We were persistent, but low key in getting people to come. It was the right approach, because we ended up with 1 Pulitzer Prize Winner, 4 Correspondents, 1 former translator, the widow of a slain journalist, and the former head of the NY Army National Guard Public Affairs. We also had on staff, a Vietnam Veteran, the girlfriend of a Marine (who happens to be the nation's youngest certified trauma-sensitive yoga teacher), and an Army wife.

The retreat offered 4 full days of yoga and acupuncture, as well as massage. However, it ended early because of Hurricane Irene. While Boston wasn't in the path of Irene, the cities where they all lived --were. Still, we were able to get in 2.5 days of yoga, acupuncture and massage. Most went back Saturday morning, catching the last Bolt Bus from Boston to NYC, while others engaged in a morning yoga class and massage and left later that day.

Despite weather issues, what I want to point out is our group was a community of persons affected by war. This camaraderie was invaluable for instilling not only good will, but a level of understanding. It wasn't just veterans, nor girlfriends, or solely journalists. It was a mixed group --much like what you'd find in any town.

Granted, working on this stuff isn't going to be everyone's gig. But as we go into year ten of wars and an increasing number of yoga-doers look for ways to help, it help to refocus thoughts of war to include a broad range of people --contractors, caregivers, veterans, human rights workers, journalists, widows, family members in their perspective. Seeing them as a community helps to break down the impression that war is something "other people" experience.
Of course, along every path is an immutable rock. There will always be yoga-doers who have such strong political points of view, they refuse to put them aside. The person who views offering yoga to those who serve as colluding with the 'military industrial complex' and then buries his nose in his mat, is saying, "It's their fault they chose it, not mine." This person has ceased to see the value of human life and ignores human suffering. People who think this way should probably watch this instructive video. Regardless, you should spend little time on them because they're not thinking.

But PTSD becomes a community issue when the person hired, can't come in because he or she has experienced a triggering event and loses the job. It's a community issue, when the person has difficulty fully engaging in being a parent or spouse. The fall out from war is closer than we think.

We also have to steer yoga-doers away from assuming large institutions like the VA will take care of it all. At the trauma sensitive yoga training I went to last year, the #1 question yoga-doers presented was "How do I get into the VA?"

The truth is, most people will not. And when you consider many VA hospitals are 2 or more hours away from where a veteran lives, the question becomes irrelevant. The question should be reframed to:

"What can I do in my community for those who have gone through the experience of war?"

Taking this community minded approach is the way things should be going for the next ten years, as more service members come home and transition back into "normal" life. Involving as many people as you can to help design and implement these programs on a small or large basis is part of the community-based approach.

There are many organizations that take a community approach. Navy veteran, yoga teacher and studio owner Paul Zipes founded Yoga For Vets. YFV lists yoga studios who agree to give four free classes to veterans of war in their community. The key: in their community. Not at the VA 2 hours away, not happening at Walter Reed, which is 3,000 miles away. But in their own town.

Other organizations provide training, or even a model upon which to base your own event. Check out Sue Lynch's There And Back ...Again. Sue effectively serves as a yoga beacon for veterans in the Charlestown and greater Boston areas with monthly workshops combining body work and yoga. In addition, There And Back ...Again is out there when they have job fairs and housing meetings in regards to veterans. Both organizations know that doing things where you live, often offers the higher paybacks.

2011-08-28T03:19:00.000-07:00

"Sure, it’s hard for me, but military life is harder for that 26-year-old mother or father with two small kids and unfinished educational dreams to attain. The reservoir of compassion and respect I have for those going through this while in their 20s is unending. They’re the next greatest generation. If only America would love them more."

Thanks to Doug Irving at the OC Register for kicking off a four part series on military families in Orange County. He and Tom Berg, along with others have written articles about a range of family issues and war. I was pleased to be asked to write a short essay on what it's like to make the transformation from civilian to military family in middle age.
Please read the article here: An Army Doctor's Wife Explains War in Middle Age

The School At Ground Zero: "It was like a giant communal scream."

2011-08-20T11:19:00.000-07:00


"People are dying, but everyone here is going to be okay."		-Teacher at the school near ground zero.

An absolute much-watch.
A teacher from PS 150 Tribeca Learning Center near ground zero says it was "like a giant communal scream." These teachers, who were in charge of hundreds of children and scared parents, thought heroically as they tried to maintain order and calm in the midst of chaos of 9/11. The Dart Society Reports is a new online magazine, covering trauma, conflict and human rights. This first issue features this documentary of journalist and parent Jacques Menasche.

"Jacques Menasche, who produced a documentary and text on the effects of 9/11 on his son’s first-grade class at a school near ground zero in New York City.
Children, Menasche writes, have largely been excluded from the event’s history: “They present a problem for a journalist, a messy gray area of memory and trauma. Today, when it remains difficult to fully understand the extraordinary violence of September 11, 2001 — even for those of us who were there — how much less can we understand its effects on others, especially when those others are children, five and six years old, first-graders, only on the liminal cusp of memory?”

View this documentary here at the Dart Society Reports

Stuck in the social networking wedge: Really? Is that it?

2011-08-13T07:27:00.000-07:00

Recently, a friend and I have taken to chatting on the phone, rather than just being online.
We notice so much anger.
I shake my head over the identity wedges social networking forces people to choose. Political, educational, social, by hobby, religion, by sexuality, by service. Aren't we more complex and beautiful than that, and aren't we worth discovering ourselves beyond the restrictions of those fill-in boxes?

Everyone has inside him a piece of good news. The good news is that you don't know how great you can be! How much you can love! What you can accomplish! And what your potential is! ~ Anne Frank

Astonishing beauty: the glass ceiling at The Bellagio

Silver Balls Cancelled By US Marines: Potential to massacre zombies takes a hit

2011-08-10T13:38:00.000-07:00

The Danger Room brings us this news on a contract recently cancelled by the U.S. Marines. A pair of silver balls being driven by Marines could have been the biggest psychological statement on wheels, as well as an effective device to scare zombies. Weep for loss of the Ball-Mobile.

Great article on Getting Bin Laden.

2011-08-10T05:00:00.000-07:00

Saturday was a bad day. 38 people killed --30 US Troops, 7 Afghan Commandos and 1 Civilian Translator plus 1 highly trained dog shot down in Wardak province. Seal Team Six members were among those lost.

If you haven't read The Mission To Get Osama Bin Laden, now is the time to read about the bravery of such men. Getting Bin Laden by Nicholas Schmidle. In The New Yorker.

It's Not Just A House

2011-08-07T22:19:00.000-07:00

A few years ago, our daughter asked me why we didn't have a new house. "One of those big ones, where everything works and all the bedrooms have bathrooms," she said.

Daughter didn't realize the impact of her words. To her, a real home was where the walls matched, there were no electrical cords snaked around rooms, and where the upstairs was heated as evenly as the downstairs. In other words, a house not like ours. I didn't say too much. For most of her friends, life in a gated community with matching garage doors and a bunch of rules is all they've ever known. It's not a bad way of life. One can't knock the notion of having one light switch instead of three, a laundry room in the main house, or walls that aren't a combination of new stucco and old paint. Instead, I shrugged. Then went back to cleaning the kitchen which hasn't changed since they day it was built.

Our house was finished in 1940 --a young sprog compared to the homes of many of my friends in the east, as well as the adobe house my husband was raised in. But around here, 1940 is charitably considered vintage. The couple who built this house, Dr. and Mrs. Cortez, were a young couple from Utah --children of farmers. They moved here after Dr. Cortez finished his PhD from MIT in electrical engineering. His job was at the local community college teaching science or engineering. They first owned a small house in downtown. Then, in 1938, they had the plans drawn up for this house.

It was a simple plan, and to many, the home reminds them of something found at Disneyland. It makes sense, since the workman who built this California interpretation of a Colonial house would someday be called upon to build Walt Disney's dream not too far away. The house looks like something that would fit in perfectly across from Carnation Plaza at Disneyland. As a friend remarked while standing upstairs, "My God, everything here is 7/8 scale!" Anyway, the house can only be described as a rabbit's warren of small rooms. There are lots of doors, loads of trimwork, and built ins throughout the house. The professor and his wife Elle even planned for a balcony off the bedroom. The better to see the hills out back, which then, were only dotted with wild grasses and cows. The view back then had to have been like one of those California impressionist paintings.

Construction was started but then fate intervened. The young professor was called to Washington DC by the US Navy to come work on secret this and that. Mrs. Cortez had barely gotten her pans in when they had to move. Lock, stock and barrel, they high tailed to Philadelphia, where Dr. Cortez and the family stayed for the duration of the war. They rented the house to a variety of families, corresponding only by mail. At times Dr. Cortez thought of selling the house. But Elle would say, "Over my dead body!"

The war ended, and sure enough, they came back home. The local community college was the beneficiary of plenty of GI's on the GI Bill, and so the good professor set to work. Teaching classes, then several years as its Dean. His wife went to work for Walt Disney. The woman who lived in a 7/8 scale house, went to work everyday as Disneyland's first nurse. They raised two daughters and a son, enjoyed life after the war, during a time of growth and prosperity. They planted a garden, their son roamed the hills with his friends. Dr. Cortez made a few adjustments to the house. The most curious one was cutting a small door between the garage and the laundry room. It measure 18" by 72" Not very big, but you see, they were neither tall nor wide. We still use it today.

Life was good, until Dr. Cortez died playing golf. Their son was all of 13. It was a difficult time, and I'm sure everyone looked at Elle as though she were going to move. Of course, she didn't. The house she and her husband had so lovingly planned and built, grew old with her. Eventually, she married again, changing her last name. Her new husband built a behemoth brick grill in the back yard --the kind you see in old movies. They aged together, and then one day, he died too. Again, everyone thought Elle would move, but she didn't. When the stairs got too hard to walk, she closed up the upstairs bedrooms and moved into the room where I'm writing this post. There's a daybed in here now, and I like to think of this as Elle's room.

Anyway, Elle only moved when her health was failing. Her children moved her into a nursing home. When she died, her son kept the house --turning it into a rental. Finally, twelve years later, he put it on the market. None of the realtors would deal with him. They said he wanted too much money.

I drove past on a Monday and called him. He rushed up from his home by the ocean. "There was something in your voice that just sounded right," he said. I walked around, and like the character in the Cary Grant movie, fell in love like Jim Blandings. I knew this was an emotional sale. I also knew he had not one, but three offers to buy it. I could offer less, but then risk not owning it. A house like this doesn't come on the market everyday, especially in a region beset by gated communities. By Wednesday, we had purchased it. The day it cleared escrow, he had to sign some papers. He faltered. He didn't want to sell it. We promised not to change too much --he said he'd like that very much. We have lived here for ten years. It hasn't changed too much, but every time I think of doing something, I wonder if the good professor and his wife would approve.

For sure, we've had our downtime with this house. The most notable was the day Elle's balcony leaked into the kitchen during a rainstorm. Our kids, ever resourceful, responded by breaking out an umbrella --unperturbed while eating their cereal. Daughter, whether she realizes it or not, is part of the history of this house. We are the second war family to own this house. When my husband upped and ran away to the Army at the age of 52, moving was not an option. "Over my dead body," I thought when the suggestion came to sell it. (You don't reach my age and not get stubborn).

Granted, It's not an easy home to live in, but unlike the homes where each one looks the same, it has character shaped by the times. No doubt, one day when my spirit is hovering up in heaven, she and her brother might sell the house to some other family. I just hope she's able to tell them the history of the house, as it was told to me by the professor's son.

Richard Sullivan's VJ Day, Honolulu HI, August 14, 1945

2011-08-06T15:40:00.000-07:00

Richard Sullivan has graced the world with some footage his father took on VJ Day in 1945. For my younger readers, VJ stands for Victory Over Japan. Sullivan explains the whole process of having the 16mm film transferred to the digital format in his post. Sullivan also shares some stills on his website Discovering Hawaii (which doesn't sound like a bad idea right now). This film footage is a wonderful collection of sights and sounds from that important day. We are so lucky Sullivan was dogged in getting this transferred over.

Watching this struck a poignant chord: we all want a Victory day, as exuberant and final as was this one. Call it a VA Day or a VI Day, we miss not having a time where we knew that the opportunity to move forward and build our own nature was finally at hand.

Don't get me wrong: I support the mission we're in. But watching this takes us to a much different time, one that doesn't exist anymore. Nostalgia is said to be the death knell of reality or moving forward. And so it is that I roll up my sleeves, push forward, make plans to send more boxes, make a few phone calls to soldiers I know having a tough time, give thanks to those people who give and give and give, and power on. Bravo Zulu, Richard Sullivan!

VJ Day, Honolulu Hawaii, August 14, 1945 from Richard Sullivan on Vimeo. h/t J Scott Shipman, who always has swell posts.

On Solid Ground: What Drives The War Photographers' Retreat

2011-08-02T06:44:00.000-07:00

Today, I'm sending you over to a blog I've been working with Marine GF Jillian Hunsanger on at The War Photographers' Retreat.
Find out what drives this retreat. It's pretty interesting. I think you'll enjoy it. (By the way, Dave Emerson has created 2 more slots. Apply if you qualify).

Then make a donation. We're collecting funds to help pay for expenses. There's no charge for the retreat itself --10 war photographers & journalists along with their spouses are being treated gratis to 4 days of yoga, massage, and acupuncture. Homestays are being offered to those who don't want to stay in a hotel. The community of Cambridge MA is really putting itself out for this event.

Jillian

Our expenses are to help pay for the celebration BBQ, gamely being hosted by David Emerson's in-laws, printing expenses, and also to get our intern Jillian out there from Michigan. Not only is Jillian a trauma-sensitive yoga teacher interested in working with the veteran population, she's applying to get her graduate degree at the University of Southern California with a focus on military social work and veteran services. USC is the only school of social work to offer this focus. Her internship at the sponsoring organization putting on the retreat, Black Lotus Yoga Project, is essential to her application.

So when you're done, hit the "5-ways to donate" button on the menu of the War Photographers' retreat.
Thanks!

Jillian found this. Cracked us up. It looks like me and her!

Kandahar Air Field Hospital Video: What They Do

2011-08-01T05:00:00.000-07:00

Last week, the hubs explained that part of the reason so many soldiers have been saved is an entire country will be used as an ER for just one injured person. In other words, from the battlefield, they're brought to the closest combat hospital or forward surgical team. The team assesses the situation, operates to get things started, then quickly sends them on their way to the next biggest hospital. From there, they are worked on more, stabilized again, and then sent to Germany or the U.S. It's not uncommon for a wounded warrior to be out of the theater completely within 24 hours.

The other fact that we have all known is the majority of patients at these facilities are the local nationals. This includes soldiers and civilians. Here is a video someone did at Kandahar Air Field Combat Support Hospital. I'm incredibly grateful to the men and women who do this work.