Losing Davy Jones

The news didn't generate the public displays of wailing and grieving that were triggered by the deaths of Elvis, John, Michael, or even Whitney. But for the millions of fans of Davy Jones, the loss is being felt deeply and profoundly. And it is indeed a 'loss'; certainly not the dimension of loss being felt by his wife, his daughters and the rest of his family; but for us, a loss of a different kind. Those of us who spent two years of Monday nights watching the original show, buying Slicker lipstick by Yardley, writing "Mrs. Davy Jones" on the inside cover of our notebooks, have lost a part of our adolescence.

Reruns on MTV allowed us to share this with our own children, and many of us were fortunate enough to take these children to Monkees concerts...the concerts, of course, that we only dreamed of going to when we ourselves were twelve. Except for the reunion tours, Mickey, Peter, and Mike all kind of disappeared from our lives over the years, but Davy...he grew up with us.

We didn't see his name in the tabloids...didn't hear about brushes with the law, drug use or stints in rehab...stories that littered the careers of other celebrities, because there were none. He appeared at casino shows, state fairs, theme parks...always allowing us a trip back in time. Music critics have always found the Monkees and its members easy targets, but nobody made fun of Davy Jones more than he himself did. His shows were pure entertainment; song, dance, and groaningly bad puns.

The last two shows I attended, I was fortunate enough to sit right in front of the stage. I can tell you than nobody had any more fun than Davy did. Although I was lucky enough to meet him once, I never felt I could say I 'knew' him. But through Cindy Bryant and her Purple Flower Gang, I've come to know people who DO know him, and have found out that with Davy, the stage persona and the real persona weren't all that far apart. He genuinely, truly, cared for his fans; he was the real deal.

All this makes his death even more sad, if that is possible. Davy wasn't done yet. We knew that they'd never be another reunion tour; after all, tours are tough business even for the young bands. But there were going to be more solo shows, and I guess that is what I'm having the hardest time with. There will be no 'next time'

So, while people gather in Beavertown, PA this weekend for a fan-organized memorial service, those of us who can't attend will mourn Davy in our own way. Sharing fond memories with others who love him, playing his music, and remembering the boy who made our hearts skip a beat, who grew into the man who was loved and admired for his loyalty to us, his fans. And we will be smiling through our tears, grateful for someone who has brought us so much joy.

Rest in peace, Davy.

Things I am thankful for.....and Sports Adventures

Thanksgiving, of course, is a time for reflection. Naturally, there are the 'usual' gratitudes: I'm thankful for my three daughters, wonderful husband, my parents (and the fact that I'm so fortunate to still have them), and my work 'family'. But there is another family to which I belong, and to which I am forever grateful. It's a bit of an unusual family; not one of blood ties, certainly (unless you count the Red Sox blood flowing through our veins), but a family whose members gather once a year in Ft. Myers to play baseball at the Sports Adventures Red Sox Fantasy Camp. We all originally went for the same reason, I think...that is, to have an opportunity to 'play' at being a real major league baseball player, if only for a week. But the similarity stops there. Some of us, perhaps, were college baseball players being scouted by the majors, yet a career ending injury destroyed our dream. There have been others who have faced serious illness who have given this gift to themselves to celebrate their recovery. And for a handful of campers, Sports Adventures Red Sox camp has given the opportunity they were denied as young girls growing up in the pre-title IX days. There are almost as many 'stories' as there are campers. But since this post is about gratitude, I will tell you why I am grateful for being a member of this Sports Adventures family. It is a family of kindness; we celebrate the births of children and grandchildren, marriages, retirements and all the good times. We mourn when we lose a member of our Sports Adventure family, and we support each other when we lose a member of our real families. Every year we enroll a few new family members, are happy when they tell us 'this was the best week of my life'. We embrace and tolerate each others differences, quirks, moods, and (sometimes) practical jokes that go awry. We forgive, forget...and then go out and play two.

So, as we go into the holiday season, and we count our blessings, I know that, for a group of us, Larry Marino and his awesome organization will be on our list. And, of course, we're all counting down the days to our next 'family reunion' at the end of January!

ER: 2:00 am

I am not deaf, I am not blind.
I am not immune to your words, unkind.
My clothes are soiled, and I need a bath.
But what have I done to deserve your wrath?
It’s cold outside, and I have no bed.
I’m really not sure when last I was fed.
I DO know my name, and (maybe) the date.
But who is the President of the United States?
That’s always the hard one; I used to know.
Carter, I think? No, wait, don’t go!
I can tell by your face what’s going on in your head
“Just another drunk vet who’s gone off his meds”.
But I once had a home, and a family, too.
And a job, and a car, and future, like you.
I have a college degree, and I’ve written two books
So please refrain from those disgusted looks.
Because there’s really no difference between you and me
Except a little bad luck and some brain chemistry.

Time flies....

1975
“Marry my daughter? The answer is no.
Too young, no job, years of college to go.”
The father stood up, and pushed back his chair.
Sized up the young man, barely nineteen, with long hair.
“I’ve made my decision. Young marriages don’t last.”
The boy walked away, with his eyes downcast.

2010
The boy, now grown, takes the father’s arm
Helps him over the rocks, keeps him from harm.
The climb has been steep, despite the tram ride
But at the top of the mountain, there waits a young bride.
With another young groom holding her hand.
She smiles as she sees them, her grandpa and her dad.

New Grad Jobs.

So, I've been totally delinquent about keeping up with my blog, but I promise to be a more conscientious blogger in the future. Main topic of chatter with my students right now (other than the looming NCLEX!) is the current lack of job opportunities for new grads. Now, having a few (!) years under my belt in the nursing world, I've seen ups and downs in the nursing job market, but my students, being Gen Y-ers, only know the current job market, which is admittedly, pretty dismal for the students graduating this year. Not sure how best to reassure them that 'this, too, shall pass' when in many cases their expectations of what they will accept for a first job are pretty exclusive. In other words, they really want (and expect) to be offered an ICU, ED, L&D, name-your-favorite-specialty job, and don't understand that maybe..JUST MAYBE..they might have to 'settle' for something less than their ideal job. Its not a generation that is used to settling for anything; not their fault, for sure, but something society, and many of us as parents, with their best interests at heart, have unwittingly caused.

So, I guess the best advice I have to offer them is to aim high..but be open to other opportunities in nursing. They have many more years ahead of them to work, and any experience they get now (yes, even if its in a Nursing Home...although they are all shuddering at the thought of that!) will only make them more marketable nurses when something else opens up. And who knows...they might find their true calling may NOT be in the ICU, ED, L&D, name-your-favorite-specialty. Its time for you all to spread your wings and FLY! There is so much available to you in the field of nursing...don't limit yourself!

Be an informed consumer!

In medical news, the CDC is calling into question the 'safety' of the Gardasil (cervical cancer) vaccine...this is after repeated assurances to consumers that this vaccine was safe to give our young teen daughters. (http://abcnews.go.com/Health/CancerPreventionAndTreatment/story?id=8356717) One can assume that this vaccine underwent the lengthy FDA approval process, yet now, we as consumers are being provided with the news that this vaccine may not be as 'safe' as initially reported. However, this post is not about the Gardasil vaccine, but about the H1N1 (swine flu) vaccine, which is being rushed through the approval process in order to be approved for distribution this fall. (To read about the vaccine testing and approval process, go to http://www.cdc.gov/vaccinesafety/basic/safety.htm ) We're being asked to cheerfully roll up our sleeves to receive not one but TWO separate injections that 'may' provide protection about a flu which could 'possibly' mutate to become a more virulent and deadly illness. Am I the only one who remembers the mid-seventies Swine Flu vaccination fiasco, where the vaccine program was halted after millions of people had already received the first injection, and the side effect of Guillian Barre Syndrome (ascending paralysis) was discovered?

This is in no way meant to discourage people from receiving the vaccines this fall. However, each individual MUST take responsibility for making an informed decision regarding the H1N1 vaccine. There is an abundance of information on the valid information on the Internet (stick with the sites from reputable organizations, i.e. .gov or .org, or from various medical associations). Get educated, then make an informed decision for yourself and your family!

The more things change...

Many years ago (more than I care to remember!), after much pleading, my father agreed to take us (my two younger sisters, my mother and me) to a Boston Red Sox game. The year was 1966, the year the Impossible Dream Team was just a glimmer in Tom Yawkey's eye. I was a faithful watcher of televised games, always in black and white, of course, and often listening to Ken Coleman broadcasting the play-by-play late into the night on my transistor radio tucked carefully under my pillow. Younger readers of my blog may not believe this, but in 1966, attendance at Red Sox games was so pitiful that tickets were easy to obtain. My father bought the tickets at McCarthy's Smoke Shop in Brockton, and I began the painful countdown until the day I would get to see my favorite players in person.

The big day finally arrived, and off we went, Mom, Dad, and three daughters ranging in age 11 down to age 7. I remember the noise, the colors, the crowds, and the excitement, all swirling around me. But what I was not in any way prepared for was the site that greeted me as I walked up the ramp to our seats. Green grass, so bright, so perfect, it hurt my eyes to look at it. I realized then that I had never ever seen an image of the field that was anything but black and white. I stood at the top of the ramp, unable to move, in awe of the view of the field in 'living color'. At age 11, it was love at first sight; a true and passionate love for a field, a game, and the men who played it. I don't remember the details of the game, who won or lost, the final score, or even the name of the opposing team. None of that mattered. The only thing that mattered is that I had finally been to Fenway. No matter where I lived, how far away I travelled, how many ballparks I visited, going to Fenway Park would always be special, and I would never forget that first trip up the ramp to see the green grass of Fenway Park.

Fast forward 40+ years. As a mentor for a city organization this year, I was matched with a mentee who has an interest in my career, nursing. So, we had a couple of breakfast meetings, went on a few field trips, and although she was pleasant and polite, even as the program was drawing to a close, I didn't feel like I had made any difference in her life....I had failed as a mentor! When an opportunity arose to take her to a Red Sox game, I jumped at the chance, selfishly figuring I may as well be getting something out of this arrangement, even if she isn't. So, off we went, on a cool night in May that threatened rain. After parking and walking to the concourse, I noticed her interest piquing. She was texting her frends about being there; a step in the right direction. I brought her over to watch Jim Rice and Dennis Eckersly as they were doing the pre-game show. She didn't know who either one of them were, but politely expressed interest. We walked into the Souvenir Store, where I bought a hat for my California daughter, then headed inside and bought sodas (yes, fellow Sox campers, soda, not beer!) before we sought out our seats.

As we walked up the ramp, her face brightened. Speechless, her eyes roamed the field surface, shining brightly green despite the gloomy weather, then scanned the skyboxes, brightly lit like a necklace around the inside of the park. She craned her neck to see the scoreboard above us, already showing amazing plays of the previous week. And she smiled.

I saw a little bit of myself that day, as I imagine my father saw a little bit of himself in me those many years ago. This is how Boston Red Sox fans are created; it is as much about the scenery as it is about the play, and hopefully, someday, I'll bring one of my own grandchildren here to bear witness to the incredible, awesome power of Fenway.