As the sun slants a little more sharply and our dusty wools make their way out of closet purgatories, there can be no mistaking the time of year: the holidays are upon us. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
First is Thanksgiving, with its post-meal naps and kitchen-based squabbles (who makes the best potatoes, for instance, and the answer is always Aunt Carol. Don\u2019t you dare mention the ex-husband.) Black Friday rolls around with additional exaltation, punctuating the consumption of all things nutritionally robust with the consumption of all things 60% off. Why stop at a full stomach when you could score a full shopping cart? <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then, there\u2019s the glimmering month of anticipation. This month is practically a holiday in itself. For children, it means everything from hinting that their clothes and games are shamefully obsolete to outright declaring it. Parents will be found cautiously deliberating in your local TJ Maxxes and Apple Stores, every item picked up and balanced on the adolescent satisfaction scale. Young wives scour Home Depot for shiny new power tool sets, which tends to be less of a gift than a hopeful suggestion. Everyone claims this is the year they won\u2019t go overboard with the chocolate (a futile endeavor).<\/p>\n\n\n\n
By the time Christmas and Hanukkah come, it almost feels like they already happened. Maybe this is when the cold-season blues come out to play. One more day of stuffing yourselves, and then you\u2019re catapulting into the reckoning of the New Year and its tedious resolutions. But for many, the conclusion of the sparkling season is a great relief.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
While working in home care, you naturally become deeply involved in other lives. I talk to some of my clients more than I do members of my own family. For some of them, we are an extended family, especially for those whose sons and daughters and grandchildren have moved states away. They might feel removed, unable to join in the very same holiday parties they once hosted. It can be disorienting to step outside and watch the reds and greens and snowflake decorations hoisted up all over the streets: what once was a happy signal for reunion, now a reminder of solitude. And it goes both ways, too. For families whose loved ones now live in nursing homes and facilities, that empty chair at the Christmas Dinner table might be a stark indication of time gone by. A phone call while the kids tear open Hallmark wrappings doesn\u2019t carry quite the same warmth as a full house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One of the increasingly distinctive social characteristics of the modern age, especially in individualism-oriented America, is the geographical separation between family members. I personally grew up thinking it was a rite of passage to leave home and attend some far-away university in effort to become more \u201cworldly.\u201d I still believe in the value of exposure, of opening oneself up to novel environments and peoples and all the mysteries of the universe, but more than anything I\u2019ve realized how sorely isolated we\u2019ve all become. Now that I\u2019m old enough to enjoy the powers of insight afforded to me by a fully developed frontal lobe, I\u2019m aware that a reasonable proximity to my parents is crucial. And how lucky am I that they are available to me? How lucky am I that finding economical bus fare is the main obstacle between myself and loved ones during the holiday season? I know it won\u2019t always be this way, but I am determined to make it last as long as I can. Likewise, I\u2019m determined to ensure our agency is there, physically and emotionally, to be a year-round foundation of support for clients who may feel left behind by other individuals or by society itself. <\/p>\n\n\n\n