Postivitiy is Powerful Medicine

My grandmother did everything wrong: She ate fatty, sugary foods. She never exercised. She didn’t smoke, but she enjoyed her whiskey sours and “happy time.” She was a cook and baker of the old school and she ate what she made. She lived a long and healthy life. For all but her last few months, she was not taking any regular medications, lived on her own, took the bus to the grocery store, and was completely “with it.” She passed away at ninety-eight years old.

Her family thinks we know her longevity secrets. We think we understand why she lived so long and so well: first, she was the most positive person we knew. Negatives glanced off of her. She did not ignore the problems and struggles but approached them with a can-do optimistic attitude that was powerful and infectious.

She was also the most social person I knew. I was aware as a teenager that, if I wanted my grandmother to come to my play, I had to give her the date months in advance. If I wanted to go to lunch with her and celebrate one of our birthdays, I had to be sure to call book early because her calendar was full! I was often amazed that everyone seemed to know my Nana – and not only know her, they burst into smiles when I told them that I was Esther Hirsch’s grandson, “Esther Hirsch! She is amazing!” I know.

As we hunker down and become socially distant, we need to remember these two lessons. The way we approach the world, our attitudes and outlook can shape more than just our mental state. Our connection with others and the community is a lifeline as much as any cold remedy.

As other older folks would outline their physical woes and pains, my grandmother would declare, “I don’t have any conditions!” She didn’t. She didn’t have medical conditions and she didn’t place lots of conditions on anyone. When her sons married, she welcomed their wives and their wives' parents, siblings, cousins, and anyone else who was important to them. Her embrace extended to all the people she loved and the people they loved. She cherished these relationships with dinners, parties, outings, and celebrations. She took no one for granted.

She didn’t text. She had no email. She called everyone. She knew what was going on with her brothers, their wives, and all the children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren! She saw everyone. Often I had to share her when we went out to eat. There were cousins from Los Angeles, children of a dear friend who had passed, a friend of a friend, and the neighbor from down the hall. She made no distinctions. Religion didn’t matter. Ethnicity didn’t matter. If you were loved by someone she loved, then she loved you – and now you were family.

As we face the COVID-19 virus separately in our own homes, I need to remind myself of my grandmother. We are not really alone. We can text, email, video chat, and call each other – and we must! We can wring our hands and worry and curse the doom and gloom, or we can take that energy and make positive choices. We can choose how we look at this.

I know my grandmother had down moments. When my aunt passed away, she kept saying how this was not the natural order of things. Life was not always rosy because she wore rose-colored glasses. She was aware of the struggles and the successes.

But she did not let those things color her worldview. Over and over, she would return from a funeral, wake, or shiva and extol the person who had passed and praise their family. When her friends passed away, she connected with and consoled their children. After all, they were all her family.

An optimistic attitude and the loving arms of friends are potent medicines. They can’t cure on their own and they won't replace the precautions we must take now, but they provide positive protection and power. We need all the time, but especially now.

Thanks, Nana. I miss you, and your presence is far more powerful than your absence.