My social media policy

Image credit: Jason A. Howe | Flickr
Used under Creative Commons license

I’ve gotten a few requests to be friends/connections/bonds/followers/what-have-you on various social media sites lately, so I figured now’s a good time to tell everyone how I use social media, when I let my real-life and diabetes-online presences collide, and when I keep them separate. If you’ve sent me a social media request and I haven’t responded, please don’t feel slighted – this post explains why.

Facebook: On my personal Facebook page, I’ve chosen to limit my “friends” to people who are either real-life friends or family. I don’t talk much about diabetes on there, and don’t use it as a pedestal for that type of discussion – it’s mostly for personal thoughts, experiences, and lots of pictures of my kids. Stuff that I’m not willing to share with the entire world.

Look for the helpers

Image credit: Getty Images, Huffington Post

There is no logical explanation for what happened in Boston on Monday afternoon. Hopefully we will get an explanation (however illogical) which will put our minds a bit at ease, but that’s the most we can ask for right now.

Nonetheless, I was so pleased to hear that marathon officials and emergency personnel had established a plan ahead-of-time to deal with such a situation, and that the plan was put into action without a hitch. From what I gathered from various reports, they knew exactly how to care for the injured — both on the scene and at the hospital (and which hospital to bring them to), as well as how to secure the area, identify and diffuse other potential threats, and deal with the  crowds and the media.

We can say that this should never have happened, and we’d be right. Sadly, I believe that it probably could not have been avoided, at least on the local level. But immediately after the first explosion, the way everything was handled was nothing short of exemplary.

I’m sure it’s hard to understand, especially for someone who has endured a loss, but from my perspective from three states away, I say this to the people in the City of Boston:

You make me proud.

* * *

I had a different post planned for today – one where I directed quite a bit of anger towards the United States Food and Drug Administration. As I was wrapping up the post, the first reports started to come out from Boylston Street. Since it felt wrong to be critical of a U.S. Government agency at this time, I’ve decided to hold off on publishing that one for now. I will share it at a later date, yet to be determined.

Weekend viewing: Hurricane Sandy, a documentary

Sea Bright, New Jersey is a narrow barrier island that fronts the Atlantic Ocean.  Like much of the northern Monmouth County coastline, it is more of a working-class residential community and not a tourist destination like some other shore towns.  But I’ve had occasion to go there at times.  There is a single bridge that leads in and out of town.  I love re-telling the story of an old friend of mine who used to live there. When she was pregnant with her first child, her (then-)husband took a sonogram photo to a neighborhood bar. Bruce Springsteen happened to be there and autographed it for them.

Remembering, and never forgetting.

Click the image for the list of names

It was a Tuesday, just like today.

Eleven years ago.  So much has happened between then and now that I really I can believe that it’s been that long.  The world seemed like an awful place at that time.  It was tragic, it was horrible, and it felt hopeless.  Things aren’t back to the way they were on September 10th, 2001, but I do feel better today than I did ten years and 364 days ago.  I’m not going to get political with my reasons, but the passage of time somehow did make it easier to cope.

At least for me it did.  I was one of the lucky ones; lucky in the sense that I didn’t know anyone first-hand who was lost in the attacks.  There were luckier ones, like my friend who ran out of the tower and across the Brooklyn Bridge before his office disintegrated.  And there were unlucky ones, far too many unlucky ones.   God Bless them all, and all the people who loved and needed them.

Remembering Aunt Edythe

This is Aunt Edythe's profile pic on Facebook. I can't imagine what she did on there.

My Great-aunt Edythe passed away early Sunday morning. She was ninety-six.

For as long as I’d been around to know and remember her, she lived a care-free life. Through her eyes, the world was a good place, and people were, for the most-part, well-intentioned.

No, she wasn’t delusional or oblivious. Until the very end, she was always well-aware of what goes on in the world: war, famine, disease, and so on. I’m sure that, years ago with three young children, the chaos in her home was a microcosm of the world around us. But she, like her four siblings, didn’t dwell on it and didn’t let it occupy her.

She chose to live in a simpler time; a time free of modern distractions; somewhat reminiscent of an early-era TV sitcom. After her children had grown and moved on, and after her husband had passed, she had borders living in her house – for financial support as well as companionship. Usually, they were college students who couldn’t afford a place of their own in the Connecticut city where she lived. Although stern with her old-fashioned rules, she was trusting. Enough so that it caused others in the family, those of us in a younger generation who grew up in a less idealist world, some concern.