Complete Geriatric Care - Feature: "Crisis managers or choice managers?"

This is planting time. It’s autumn and I am planting bulbs, which will come into their full beauty and splendor early next spring. I find myself thinking about the significance of what I am doing. There was an attack on America a few weeks ago. The United States and their allies are now responding with various forms of retaliation. I am still uneasy about what will come next and I am not alone in this concern. I ponder what we can do to find meaning in life at this difficult time in history.

I have worked extremely hard at this project, as my perennial garden is new, having been planted for the first time this past summer. Two hundred bulbs were planted in a garden that is really quite small. They range from hyacinths, to crocuses, muscari and narcissus. I could become depressed and withdraw from people, for, every time I turn on the news, more and more events make me feel uneasy. Perhaps that is why I am choosing to plant “a garden of hope’ which will bloom early next year.

My husband and I often have lunch at a neighborhood deli. I have made an acquaintance of one of the waitresses. Every time we go there she has some new garden tips to share with me. She has taught me so much about what to do with my garden, which has become the talk of the neighborhood this past summer. Gardening is one way of connecting people with others. So many of the passers-by will share tips with me, while others will comment on the lush, splendid array of heights and colors that have taken over the once ordinary grass.

For this new garden, patience, consistent nourishment and newly acquired knowledge has helped it look like a far more mature endeavour and the planting of the bulbs will make it more complete.

When neighbors see me working in the garden, they will often say how good they feel when they walk past. I respond by saying “wait until spring - wait until you see the two hundred bulbs that have been planted, start to poke their heads through the snow’. I often tell the neighbors that I am planting a “garden of hope” as this is a time to reflect and, unfortunately, to be anxious. I need to have something to focus on during the long winter months that will slowly unfold. I need to have hope for the next few months, as events evolve in the world.

I find myself struggling inwardly to maintain my faith and my spirituality, but it does take some concentrated effort these days. Like so many others, I will never be able to erase the horrific images of September 11th. The entire landscape of the tragedy that shook the world has been burned into my memory forever. This is why I am planting seeds of hope” to help me through the long cold winter in order that I can see the beauty that will blossom in the early spring.

I have been trying to make some sense out of the tragedy that happened on September 11th — when the world profoundly changed for all of us. There is something that I cannot get out of my mind. Upon returning from what initially was a vacation to Santa Fe, from which I did not return until September 19th, a week later than originally planned, I learned that a young man, who had been a tenant in our home four years ago, perished in the attack. He had been attending a meeting at the World Trade Center on the 108th floor. His young, pregnant wife was in New York City at the time but, thankfully, not in the building. The tragedy has hit very close to our home.

Ten years ago, i visited Salaspils, a concentration camp outside of Riga, Latvia. One hundred thousand people perished there. When the camps were evacuated, all of the barracks were burned down, so that the world would not know what had occurred. Immense monuments mark the place where the buildings once were located. Where the children’s barracks stood, flowers now adorn the cold earth. These too were flowers of hope, hope for a better, kinder world.

When the Second World War ended, gradually life did return to normal. People did regain their hope and their lives became meaningful once again. It will take time, but I choose to believe that we will heal individually and as nations around the globe. Perhaps we can all learn from our past mistakes.

While pondering the tear I feel today, I will choose to believe that humanity will rise above inhumanity, as has happened following the many tragedies and mass deaths throughout history. I will choose hope over fear, despair and anxiety.



	Planting Seeds of Hope by Irene Borins Ash, M.S.W., R.S.W., Consultant on Aging, Photographer and Writer, excerpted from the January 2002 Elderconnection NetWork newsletter. This is planting time. It’s autumn and I am planting bulbs, which will come into their full beauty and splendor early next spring. I find myself thinking about the significance of what I am doing. There was an attack on America a few weeks ago. The United States and their allies are now responding with various forms of retaliation. I am still uneasy about what will come next and I am not alone in this concern. I ponder what we can do to find meaning in life at this difficult time in history. I have worked extremely hard at this project, as my perennial garden is new, having been planted for the first time this past summer. Two hundred bulbs were planted in a garden that is really quite small. They range from hyacinths, to crocuses, muscari and narcissus. I could become depressed and withdraw from people, for, every time I turn on the news, more and more events make me feel uneasy. Perhaps that is why I am choosing to plant “a garden of hope’ which will bloom early next year. My husband and I often have lunch at a neighborhood deli. I have made an acquaintance of one of the waitresses. Every time we go there she has some new garden tips to share with me. She has taught me so much about what to do with my garden, which has become the talk of the neighborhood this past summer. Gardening is one way of connecting people with others. So many of the passers-by will share tips with me, while others will comment on the lush, splendid array of heights and colors that have taken over the once ordinary grass. For this new garden, patience, consistent nourishment and newly acquired knowledge has helped it look like a far more mature endeavour and the planting of the bulbs will make it more complete. When neighbors see me working in the garden, they will often say how good they feel when they walk past. I respond by saying “wait until spring - wait until you see the two hundred bulbs that have been planted, start to poke their heads through the snow’. I often tell the neighbors that I am planting a “garden of hope” as this is a time to reflect and, unfortunately, to be anxious. I need to have something to focus on during the long winter months that will slowly unfold. I need to have hope for the next few months, as events evolve in the world. I find myself struggling inwardly to maintain my faith and my spirituality, but it does take some concentrated effort these days. Like so many others, I will never be able to erase the horrific images of September 11th. The entire landscape of the tragedy that shook the world has been burned into my memory forever. This is why I am planting seeds of hope” to help me through the long cold winter in order that I can see the beauty that will blossom in the early spring. I have been trying to make some sense out of the tragedy that happened on September 11th — when the world profoundly changed for all of us. There is something that I cannot get out of my mind. Upon returning from what initially was a vacation to Santa Fe, from which I did not return until September 19th, a week later than originally planned, I learned that a young man, who had been a tenant in our home four years ago, perished in the attack. He had been attending a meeting at the World Trade Center on the 108th floor. His young, pregnant wife was in New York City at the time but, thankfully, not in the building. The tragedy has hit very close to our home. Ten years ago, i visited Salaspils, a concentration camp outside of Riga, Latvia. One hundred thousand people perished there. When the camps were evacuated, all of the barracks were burned down, so that the world would not know what had occurred. Immense monuments mark the place where the buildings once were located. Where the children’s barracks stood, flowers now adorn the cold earth. These too were flowers of hope, hope for a better, kinder world. When the Second World War ended, gradually life did return to normal. People did regain their hope and their lives became meaningful once again. It will take time, but I choose to believe that we will heal individually and as nations around the globe. Perhaps we can all learn from our past mistakes. While pondering the tear I feel today, I will choose to believe that humanity will rise above inhumanity, as has happened following the many tragedies and mass deaths throughout history. I will choose hope over fear, despair and anxiety. And I will begin to watch for my flowers to poke their heads above the snow in early March, and once again feel a sense of peace. If you would like to add your opinion, or better yet, tell your own story, send us an email message. Your reply may be added here, and may be edited for content for length. << return to the news page
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Planting Seeds of Hope