Sunday, January 29, 2012

Gingrich Wins The South Carolina Presidential Primary

Gingrich Winning the South Carolina Presidential Primary

That a so called conservative state could vote for a representative that was found guilty in an ethics scandal while serving as speaker of the House of Respresentatives just goes to show how fickle an electorate can be. The man spent 8 years vilifying President Clinton for infidelity while engaging in the same sordid affairs with younger female associates. How can one forget how the federal government was paralyzed by the republicans in the House of Representatives while they impeached the President in the 1990's. Gingrich now boasts of how well he worked with President Clinton in keeping the prosperity of the 1990's. It amazes me how short peoples memories are.

Stuart


Stuart 

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

The Business Case for Reading ... (blogs.hbr.org)



The Business Case for Reading Novels
http://blogs.hbr.org/cs/2012/01/the_business_case_for_reading.html

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Stuart 

Janice about Dad

My experience of my dad, Dick Levy, for my first 16 years or so was that he was in control of the world.  Not just my world, but anyone's in his small circle: my mother, my brothers, the dogs,  the Lake Isle Shore club - And everything: from the hand clipped edges of the yard, the lawn, garden, compost, cars, house, finances.  I later came to understand his need for control stemming from the insecurity of his childhood.  He had never felt the sanctuary of a caring family and was determined his family would be secure.  I remember sitting at his kitchen table in Florida chatting when I was home from college and mentioning that when I was growing up, that I felt like our home was so much more solid than a house.  That it was like the rock of Gibraltar.  I remember his eyes tearing up - a first for me to see.  
My dad was very proud of his children.  And his love was conditional.  He made it clear that if his arm had cancer, he would cut it off.   I think all 3 of us struggled with balancing wanting to please him and wanting to make our own choices and live our lives our way.  But one thing I am certain about: no one ever had a parent who cared more.  I have dozens of letters that my dad wrote to Ted and me covering topics from the trivial to the profound.  And until the last dozen years, his counsel was spot on.  He was very sharp and expert in finding the hole in anything.  I was incredibly lucky to have been so loved and cared about by someone so smart and willing to guide.
Beyond providing a secure home and family life and freely giving sound guidance, probably my dad's greatest gifts he bestowed on his family were the annual family vacations he took us on beginning 21 years ago.    Those vacations were the highlight of our year.  They provided an opportunity for family bonding like nothing I've observed in other families.  Several close knit families I know, having heard about my dad's execution of these excursions, have organized similar gatherings for their families.  Imitation is the greatest form of flattery.  But my dad couldn't care less what anyone else thought.  He took us on these trips to develop connections within the family.  Ask any of his grandchildren and I feel certain they would tell you those trips provided some of their fondest memories of their childhoods.  They are the reason Stu's and my children feel close to their cousins.  And these vacations strengthened the bonds between Stu, Ted, Sandy and myself.  After each trip my dad would state - they can't take that one away.  Having a trip behind us for him was like money in the bank.
My dad held his wife, Marilyn, on a pedestal.  She was his princess and I believe they both truly had exactly the marriage they wanted.  My mother was very happy to let my dad control her world and my dad was perfectly happy with his princess.  Which gets me to the biggest lesson I learned from my dad:  know what you want and don't care what anyone else thinks - except maybe him ;)
These last years as his illness robbed him of everything that was him, I tried to imagine a lesson in this sadness.  What could possibly be the purpose of such suffering.  My life has not been devoid of sadness but I have found I can usually learn something from whatever life hands me.  I have thought it is a terrible irony that someone who prized control would in the end lose control of everything in his life.  My mother-in-law, whose medical specialty is alzheimers disease, rightly said that my dad's personality was the worst for having this illness.    He was not one to abdicate control which made his care in the last years very difficult.  I will be forever grateful to Sandy and Stuart for taking on the monumental effort of caring for our dad and making sure he knew he was loved right up to his last breath.  
I am grateful to have had a present, supportive, caring father.  I am grateful for the family that he envisioned and created.  When I consider the handicap of the circumstances of my dad's early years, I am inspired by his ability to define, seek and achieve success in his life.  
 
 
 

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Memories of Dad

Memories of Dad
Warren Dick Levy 11-5-28 to 1-5-12

My father was born just prior to the start of the Great Depression. His mother was a beauty named Mildred Wilke and his natural father was a man whose last name was Warhurst. His parents separated when Dad was an infant and when the depression hit hard Mildred could not handle the strain of being a single mother. Dad was put temporarily in a foster home and then was bounced around among Mildred's relative's. He had a very insecure childhood. He was a wild youth with little supervision.

Eventually Mildred remarried Joseph Levy who with his brother and father ran a successful meat packing business named Plymouth Rock with plants in the Bronx and Manhatten. Dad lived with Mildred and Joe. Roberta, his half sister was born when Dad was about ten years old. Joseph was concerned about adopting Dad and it wasn't until Dad was past twenty years of age when adoption papers were formally filed.

Dad spent a year at Cobleskill Agricultural College and also took some business courses at Pace College in New York. When Dad was in his early twenties Joseph stepped up and offered Dad a job at Plymouth Rock. Dad prided himself in doing every job that the meat packing plant had to offer. Whatever he did from cleaning floors to selling product he perfected. Joseph and his brother, Lester recognized Dad's industriousness and wisely promoted Dad to plant manager.

Dad met his wife Marilyn and on their first date told her that he was going to marry her. By the time Dad was 23 years old I was born. Dad worked 16 hour days at Plymouth Rock and was largely responsible for the business's success, expansion and then subsequent sale to the larger company, Food Corporation of America. Upon the sale of the company Lester Levy wanted to reward Dad with a small percentage of the proceeds. Joseph objected leaving Dad to the mercy of the board of directors of the purchasing company. Fortunately the new owner recognized Dad's talent for reining in expenses and expanding sales and production. Dad was given a title of President and a raise. He still worked 14 hour days and banked almost all of what he earned. My brother Jeffrey and Sister Janice were born three and ten years behind me. Dad was totally focused on creating a stable environment that he was denied as a child.

By the time the children were 13, 10 and 3 years old Dad was weary of the meatpacking business. Joseph and Mildred Levy owned 212 acres of property in rural Duchess County New York and they offered Dad the opportunity to farm the land and build a small house on the property. The house was halfway built when the chairman of Food Corporation of America made Dad an offer of increased salary with a secure contract. Dad stopped work on the farmhouse and we moved to a home on a Lakefront community about 12 miles north of the New York City line. The house was a modest three bedroom ranch to which Dad added a pool room, greenhouse and workshop. It bordered on a cemetery which made the property more affordable. Dad also used sub-contractors from the meat packing plant to do much of the labor on the remodel. Because the house was near a lake the basement required a sump pump to prevent flooding. The pump had a backup and it was often my responsibility to make sure that it was working when he was not around.

To say Dad was a tough father would be a gross understatement. His authority in the house was unquestioned. He ruled the children with his belt. I, being the oldest was the most responsible. Jeffrey and Janice were on the receiving end of some spankings, but I was on the front line. At a very young age of eight I was pictured holding onto my younger brother Jeff as we walked home from school. At ten years old I was babysitting my infant sister and changing her diapers. It was the threat of a "licking" and the desire for his approval that made me responsible. Spankings continued right up until I reached 20 years of age. Each spanking up until the last one was followed by a make up embrace and an explanation. If I turned out to be a "loser" it would not be because of lack of discipline on his part. He was determined to give us what he did not receive as a child. His dominance was at times pathologic. Mealtimes were battlegrounds when Dad became impatient with the pace that we consumed what was on our plates. He would give us time limits to finish our meal. the threat would be that the strap would come out if we didn't clean our plate by the time the big hand on the clock reached the 12.

Dad retired from Plymouth Rock when he was 40 years of age. Imagine having a tyrannical father at home when you are in high school. My chores included shoveling snow, walking the dogs, washing the cars before the sun rose on Saturday morning lest there be water spots on the clean car, mowing the acre lot behind our house, papering the garbage cans (those were the days before trash bags and heaven forbid that we had dirty garbage cans after the trash was collected.)

Dad knew his cost of living to the penny. He calculated how much he needed to retire on his investment income. He invested in ultra safe tax free bonds and became the master of compounded interest. From the time he retired until the time he passed away his net worth grew with little or no risk.

He was very proud of his children. He loved planning family vacations. He was a master gardener. The attendant at the cemetery behind our house would give Dad discarded potted plants from gravesites and Dad would nurse them back to health in his greenhouse. He would then sell the plants wholesale to a local florist who at first did not want to buy them. But when Dad began to sell the plants on the cheap right outside his front door he changed his mind. He grew every kind of vegetable in his garden and made a large compost pile. Christmas gifts that Dad collected from suppliers at work were in the form of cases of alcohol which he stockpiled in our attac above the workshop. We had a hundred cases of named brand booze that hauled up there. Years later he figured out a way to sell the gifted booze to the neighbors who at the time felt they were getting a great deal.

Dad moved from New York to Sarasota Florida in 1978. By that time all the children were grown except for my sister, Janice who was in college. He was proud that I was a physician preparing to practice in Florida and that my younger brother Jeffrey had completed his degree from the University of Pennsylvania in just two and a half years.

Dad's world was rocked by the violent death of my brother Jeffrey in 1985. I don't think that he ever recovered from the shock of this loss. Jeffrey was shot in a robbery while he was a manager at a Benigans in Wilmington, North Carolina. The culprit was never apprehended. Shortly after the murder Dad told me that he knew something more upsetting about the murder but he refused to share it with me.

Jeffrey's loss was somewhat softened by Janice's and my marriages and the birth of five grandchildren. The tide started to go out again when Janice's husband Ted was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. At around the same time Ted was being diagnosed and treated it became apparent that Dad's razor sharp mind was losing its edge. He began to make inappropriate comments and became increasingly difficult for my mother to tolerate. It is one thing to be authoritative and correct but you can't be authoritative and wrong.

In 2007 I retired from my medical practice and made myself available to my parents who were in an increasingly unstable situation. I live 80 miles south in Fort Myers and began to make weekly drives to Sarasota with our Wheaton Terrier "Einstein." Dad Einstein and I would frolic on the golf course behind the condo. Then he would dine on hot dogs and scotch whiskey in a restaurant that allowed dogs.

In the spring of 2008 Mom told me that she did not know how much longer she could deal with Dad. She was having difficulty assuming all of the responsibilities that Dad always carried. She wanted to move into an assisted living facility where all her needs would be met. I went up to Sarasota and toured several facilities with Mom and made a deposit to reserve a two bedroom unit at a suitable facility. Dad was verbally abusive to Mom. He was furious at me for intervening in their affairs. Mom was constantly pressured by Dad's declining mental status. Mom eventually had a fainting spell on the tennis court and was cared for by the emergency medical service. Her friends convinced her that she was under too much pressure. My wife, Sandy and I successfully intervened to sell Dad's car after he caused two accidents. We were trying with the help of my sister, Janice to arrange for a companion or nurse to sit with Dad during the day and spell Mom for a couple of hours. In the intirum we actually hired our son Joshua to sit with Dad. Dad did not recognize his grandson. He asked why my mother brought the strange man into the house. Mom could not take it any more. She called me and told me that she was moving out of their house, and that it was time that her children should "step up and take care of their father."

Sandy and I drove up to Sarasota and met Joshua and Dad at the condo. We took him out to dinner like we always did when we came up to visit. After dinner we drove him down to Fort Myers. We turned on some Sinatra music and childproof locked the back of my Lexus. He said, "This is a new way back home isn't it, son?" When we pulled into our Wiskey Creek subdivision he recognized that he wasn't going home but was going to our house. Sandy and I had the intention of keeping him with us. The next day my sister Janice flew down from Pittsburgh to help Dad transition. This initially helped by giving the crisis the appearance of a family get together. The calm was short lived however, and Dad soon started asking about Mom. We called Mom who spoke to Dad on the phone and told Dad that she could not live with him any longer. When he got off the phone with Mom he accused me of butting into his business and that I should take him back to his home and Mom. We told him that we could not take him back because Mom would not stay with him and we could not leave him alone. He then insisted that we call Mom back and talk to her. We then recorded her voice on a tape recorder stating categorically that she could no longer live with him. We played the tape back periodically to Dad when he insisted that he speak to Mom. We arranged for Dad to meet Dr. Newland, who is a close friend and a neurologist. We arranged to meet with home nursing people to help us manage. We spoke to friends and professionals about home care for a family member with dementia. After a few days in our home Dad said to me, "You are a doctor, son. You have the medications. Put me out of my misery." At that point it became clear to myself, Sandy and Janice that there was no way that we would be able to care for Dad at home. We have a lake with alligators behind the house and knives in the kitchen. We felt as if we were sitting on top of a powder keg. We called Dr. Newland and arranged for Dad to be cared for in a locked facility where he would not be in danger to himself. We called his attorney who recommended that we get him to sign forms giving Janice, Mom and I power of attorney.

I will never forget sitting in Dr. Newland's office holding Janice while we waited to see the doctor. The doctor told Dad that he was exercising his responsibility to protect Dad from himself when he committed Dad to a psychiatric unit. It was not Janice's decision or Stuart's decision but
Dr. Newland's responsibility as a physician. Dad told Dr. Newland that he was fired. Dr. Newland respectfully told Dad that he could not fire him. Dad then looked at me and handed me his wallet and keys. The emergency medical technicians then came in with a stretcher and transported Dad to a lock- down psychiatric unit in Punta Gorda thirty mile north of Fort Myers.

Dad stayed in the unit under fairly heavy sedation for two weeks. I was the only one allowed to visit him. Sandy and Janice began to make inquiries about skilled nursing units for people with dementia.

Sandy and I were waiting for Dad when the medical transport took him to Arden Courts of Fort Myers. We watched him get out of the front seat of the transport and help the driver with his bags. He then walked into the unit where we were waiting. For the last three years of his life he never left the grounds of this facility. The unit was "dementia-proof." We felt that he was safe there and it was in some ways a relief to Dad that he did not have to worry about answering any questions. We could come and visit at any time and a nurse would be present at all times. l cooked soups for Dad and kept him stocked with beer and wine. When he first entered the unit he was the Bingo champion playing two or three cards at a time.

Dad's decline had a profound effect on his grandchildren who always looked up to him. Seeing him institutionalized and minimalized shook their world order.

The last few months were very difficult. Dad lost his ability to speak and eventually could not recognize us. He would walk around the unit and frequently fall and bang his head and face. I would meet him on the nursing unit and sometimes in the ER. Fortunately, I could usually intervene to avoid aggressive medical interventions.

Dad always had a good appetite. He loved ice cream and with nutritional milkshakes the aides at Arden Court kept him going for a long time. Finally he stopped eating and drinking. Hope Hospice was called to keep him comfortable.

It was painful for me to see Dad in his terminal state. Yesterday Sandy called to tell me that she would not leave Dad because she wanted to be with him at the end. I brought her a salad that I had made for her. I went into Dad's room and saw her leaning over Dad and comforting him. Bailey, our poodle was in the room getting restless. Bailey started to pace in the room and Sandy got up to take her outside. The nurse, Kathy came in to give Dad his morphine and shortly after she squirted it against his cheek Dad gave a gasp and stopped breathing.


Stuart