“Everyone can make an Ethical Will”

By

Gerry Niskern

I wrote about Ethical Wills once before, years ago. I believe the idea bears repeating for new generations of readers in this New Year. An Ethical Will is an opportunity for you to communicate your hopes and dreams for the future generations of your family. Your morals, regrets and yes, your opinions are all included.  They are usually written by people at a turning point in their lives.

An Ethical will  is not a legal document; rather it is a record of your nonrepresentational wealth. Although parents would like to see their children financially secure, they would also like to leave some philosophical provisions as well.

Think of the many phrases stated by your parents or grandparents that influenced you while growing up. One of my mother’s favorites comes to mind. “Be kind and respectful to the elderly, their life is hard.” When I would argue, “But, Mom, what if they’re crabby with me?” She always replied, “That doesn’t matter. We still respect the old.”

Then there was one of my grandmother’s admonishments, in her broken English. “Don’t go where you no belong.” Her advice still serves a purpose in our family. These examples are not exactly an ethical will, but certainly examples of the making of one.

Writing an Ethical Will does not require enormous education or wisdom. It’s what you have to give of yourself.  Every will is as unique as the person writing it, but there are common themes. Personal values are important, as well as “life’s lessons learned.” Families are mentioned often. “Take care of the family. Value the family.”  Many give instructions on how to maintain the strength of the family.

If you need help getting started, start keeping a journal. Over a period of time themes will emerge that you can use in drafting your ethical will.

.          Many newlyweds sit down and share their values in ethical wills. It doesn’t matter if you are an engaged couple, brand new parents, divorcing, empty nesters, or end of lifers, there is no time like the present. Not everyone can pass along a financial legacy, but everybody can transmit some of the richness of life. You have lived and learned and have thoughts to pass on. Just be yourself. Open your heart and write the gift that your family will cherish.

THE BEST KIND OF CHRISTMAS

By

Gerry Niskern

I had two Christmas celebrations as a child. My sister and I woke up on December 25^th to the smell of pine. Santa had brought presents and a beautiful sparkling tree too. What more could a kid ask for.

But on January 6^th, at my grandma Gunto’s house, we had our favorite Christmas. We looked forward to Grandma’s Orthodox Catholic celebration because we were with our many cousins. Mom came from a family of l3, so there were a lot of cousins. There were no presents exchanged, just the joy of the whole family being together.

My grandma’s living room was cleared of furniture and long tables and chairs were set up. The tables were groaning with food. After a prayer by one of the grownups in my Grandmothers native language, my little Austrian grandma would always say, “Now Geddy, you say in English”. She could never pronounce Gerry. I don’t know why she always chose me, out of all the kids, to say the blessing. I was painfully shy so I guess she thought it would be good practice for me!

We had Hulupkis. They were boiled cabbage leaves filled with browned ground beef and spices and rice. The cabbage was then folded like an envelope, rolled up and placed in a large kettle and covered with the savory brown gravy made from the browned beef. They were delicious.

There was Perogies too; my favorite. After making the dough, it was rolled out and cut into 3 inch squares. Then a mixture of mashed potatoes and chunks of yellow cheese was spooned out onto a square and folded over into a triangle and the edges pinched with a fork. The pockets were then dropped into boiling water for a few minutes to cook like a noodle. Then they were lifted out and plopped into a large skillet sizzling with chopped onion browning in butter.

There was always a bowl of stewed apricots, and fruit pies from the summer’s canning; cherry, peach and berry. The only cookies were plain round sugar cookies with a spoonful of jam in the middle and another round of cookie on top, with a hole in the middle for the jam to bubble thru.

The most important dish of the evening was a platter of round cooked noodle balls covered with honey and poppy seed.  Everyone had to eat one in order to have good health in the coming year. I dreaded that Austrian tradition, but I was always required to choke one down!

The evening was concluded with polka dancing with the music provided by my Uncle Paul from Italy. His sparkling blue accordion shimmered as everyone, young and old. danced. My grandma’s old frame house vibrated with fun. Then, of course, my Uncle Walter, from Russia, gave a command performance dancing the Mazurka. He crouched low, with arms across his chest and his boots kicking high into the air. Everyone tried to imitate him, but no one else was strong enough.

Every year, I ended up on someone’s lap in the living room in front of the fireplace watching the coal fire hiss and spew out plumes of yellow, red and purple flames. Mesmerized by the symphony of color I fell asleep; and always the next thing I knew. I woke up the next morning in my own bed!

“What puts you into the Christmas spirit?”

By

Gerry Niskern

Sometimes it’s the scent of something that you haven’t smelled for a while.This year, for me, it was when I peeled a tangerine from the tree in the back yard. Suddenly,I  was transported back to my childhood and memories of my Christmas stocking. The little mesh see thru stocking (my sister had one too) always contained some nuts, ribbon candy and a tangerine. I realized later that the tangerine was the most expensive item in the sock. Back then, none could be found where we lived so I’m sure my parents had to travel to a larger city to buy the exotic fruit that I loved.

While the tangerine put me in the Christmas mood, it saddened me too. What I have always loved most about the season as an adult, was the preparation. The cookie  baking, candy making and most of all, planning the parties. Physically, I am not up to those activities this year, I guess you could say,  I feel like I’ve been “put on the bench”and I hate it!

I decided the only way to compensate for the “out of the game” feeling was to concentrate on the gifts that I could find (with a lot of help from Amazon!) And also remember some past success at gifting.

Do you try to find the best gift ever for someone on your Christmas list? I do.

I can only get excited about Christmas after I start thinking of something as a really special surprise for at least one person. I can’t do it for everyone, but one’s enough to give me the Christmas spirit.

I get into the spirit of the season remembering some other special gifting. My earliest memory was of a tiny ladies lapel pin. It was a glowing lantern with some holly. I wrapped it in an empty Oxydol box to fool my mom. I saved all year for that special gift that cost 25 cents.

My resident historian was quite a harmonica player in his teens and my steady. I saved baby sitting money for months to buy him a large Hohner chromatic harmonica. I was serenaded many evenings for my efforts.

Back in the 50’s after the Russians had launched Sputnik, rockets were all kids in the U. S. could talk about. I found magazine ad for a heavy cardboard put-together-yourself rocket ship. Our kids were the envy of the block. They stood in line to blast off in our rocket ship.

During the “Maverick” years I scoured Phoenix and found 4 matching cowboy hats for our two boys and their two male cousins. Not just any cowboy hat. When you whipped it off your head a secret cowboy pistol popped out, pointed straight at the “outlaw of the day.”

I remember sewing and smocking two matching dresses for my daughter and her little cousin. If you have ever smocked, you know it was truly a gift of love. Some years later I sewed a gold with brown trim Velour shirt for my first little grandson and an exact duplicate one for his daddy.

Another time, in the sixties, I found a six year old niece a “low rise skirt and Poor Boy top” and she exclaimed, “Oh, a Beatles dress!”

Of course, I’ve received my share of special gifts, but the one I loved the most was during the “baby” years of the 50’s. My resident historian brought home a portable dishwasher. It was like being given a maid for Christmas!

Have you found the best gift ever ?

“How Christmas Wishes have changed”

by

Gerry Niskern

A funny thing happened on the way to Christmas one year. We had a party.

We had  been giving this annual party for thirty some years and most of the people attending had been coming to our house to celebrate the season since we started.

That year I decided that we would test their knowledge of each other with a “guess who that was” game.

I phoned to ask each one to tell me the one special thing that they had wished Santa to bring when they were a kid. Don’t tell me if you received it or not, just something special that you remember asking Santa Clause to bring.

In most cases, before I even finished my question, these “depression babies” named an item they remember vividly yearning for and declared, “And I didn’t get it either!”

A couple of the stories tugged at your heart strings a little more than others.  A lot of farm families used to gather at the grandparent’s house and all the toys for the various cousins would be placed under the tree. When my resident historian, Ken, was a little guy about four, he woke up before dawn and went down stairs to see if Santa had come. Yep! There was a train set all set up around the tree; just what he had wished for. When he came down later with his parents, his cousins were playing with their new train set!

Another Oklahoma  girl asked every year for a Shirley Temple doll. Year after year she saw other cousins unwrapping Shirley Temple dolls!

A little boy from Texas asked for any kind of airplane. His mother managed to buy him a little balsa wood flyer propelled by a rubber band. The problem was the first time he launched it, the little plane flew down the hill right into the hog pen. They pounced on it thinking it was food and ground it into the mud.

A Glendale girl always yearned for a pair of roller skates. She skated on friend’s skates once or twice, but Santa never had enough money for a pair of skates for her.

One Tennessee girl asked for  a Dionne Quintuplet doll, but more than anything she yearned for some clothes that weren’t three sizes too big, so she could “grow into them”.

There were wishes for Monopoly games, BB guns bicycles and basketballs. One young fellow found a basketball in the attic and assumed he was receiving it for Christmas. He and his friends built a backboard and hoop getting all prepared. Imagine his shock when a neighbor came to retrieve her son’s basketball that his mother was hiding for her.

It kind of blows your mind when you realize all of today’s children have to do is go online and  record their choices that are easy for grandmas, aunts and other relatives to consult and purchase for them!

Kids Christmas Coup

Every year we hear the same lament.  “Christmas is getting way too commercial.”

I have a great idea of how we could put some of the enchantment and wonder back into the Yuletide season for the children. Ban the photo sessions in the malls!

Let me explain.

Years ago I accompanied a young mother when she took her two little boys to the mall to visit Santa Claus. While standing in a two hour line with a chorus of babies’cries ringing in my ears, I watched various groups of teenage girls, taking turns sitting on ST. Nick’s knee to have their picture taken. There were also some idle retirees who thought it would be cute to send a photo taken with Santa to the kids back home. To be fair, I’m sure they didn’t realize how many minutes of precious toy ordering time they were wasting.

I saw scores of children climb onto Santa’s lap, settle in for a nice chat, only to be commanded to say “cheese, hit with a blinding flash, and when whisked away to make room for the next victim. The elf brigade with their cameras had landed!

As we waited in line with our toddlers, the joy of the season slowly disipated like whip cream losing its’ “oomph” on the season’s hot chocolate. The five-year-old had completely given up waiting and was polishing the mall floor with his new jeans. His two-year-old brother’s screams of hunger were echoing throughout the halls.

A shoving match broke out behind us. One discouraged four-year-old tried to take hurry things along by taking cuts. The offended kid cut on sent the cuttee packing with a hard shove. Tiny nerves get shot too, while standing in long lines.

How can we recapture the Yule tide season for the kids?

Easy. The same way the young mother with me did. She politely declined the photo pitch from the cute little elf with the camera. I could have sworn I saw the elf shoes curl tighter in shock when my young friend explained. “My boys are here to do some serious talking with Santa Claus, not to have their picture taken.”

I wanted to shout, “Hooray! Good for you!”

There was a time, not so many years ago; when watching a child visit St. Nick was a joy to behold. The wait in line, sans photo sessions, was no more than five or ten-minute’s tops. The child could climb on Santa’s knee and talk to the big guy to his hearts content. No one cut short the serious conference about which type of baseball mitt was best, or was Wedding Barbie better than Tahiti Barbie was.

I don’t know when the annual visit to deliver the wish list was turned into a photo session. Parents have gradually been caught up in the trap of “everyone has their child’s picture taken with Santa. How else will they remember the occasion?”

Trust me. The kids will remember. The memory will be tucked away in that special place in their heart where one on one conversations with larger than life adults always reside.

Wouldn’t it be great to pick up the newspaper one-day and read these headlines, “All Santa’s helpers carrying cameras banned from the malls?”

I’m sure it would please one tired, little boy I overheard as I was leaving. He looked up and said,  “ Daddy, couldn’t we just go home and fax Santa my Christmas wish list.”

“When was your family’s first Thanksgiving?”

By

Gerry Niskern

When did your family celebrate its first Thanksgiving? Perhaps it was when they found a place to sleep or the day father got a job? Maybe it was when he collected his first pay and your family could finally send some money home.

I’m sure by now you realize I’m talking about your grandparents or even great-great- grandparents. Most people think of Thanksgiving as family, food and football.  We take it for granted, but those immigrant ancestors of ours didn’t.

Thanksgiving is the time to gather the family together and give thanks for what we have and remember where we came from.  Most families have stories of the their first member who settled in this land. They also have favorite foods that they serve on the big day. African-Americans might have Ijera, tiny loaves of bread that’s great for soaking up the turkey gravy. You’ll find Menudo for starters and Calotes al Horno (yams) on the Mexicans table. Perhaps you roots are Italian; then Taralli, made from your grandmother’s recipe, will be passed with the coffee.

According to my mother, her siblings a hard time explaining the traditional Thanksgiving to my grandmother who emigrated from Austria in the late 1800s. She was puzzled because, “People should give thanks every day.” Grandma  was willing to cook the meal, “But not buy turkey; we have chickens”. I’m sure there was halupkis on her table too.

America hasn’t suddenly become a multi-cultural nation. It always has been a nation of immigrants. Those ancestors of ours who poured into America in the 1800’s and early 1900 learned about Thanksgiving gradually, as well as the laws, taxes, and social mores.  They came from all over the world to work. Many took the toughest jobs and were paid the lowest wages. The United States needed the cheap labor and with it this country changed and prospered.

However, the immigrants changed too. Whether you forefathers were European, Irish, Italian, Jewish, Black, Latino, the list goes on, they surely felt a sense of alienation. For the first time in their lives, they didn’t belong. They were the foreigners. The impact of separation from family and familiar surroundings was harsh. Every decision was crucial. It’s not surprising that many didn’t plan to stay. They wanted to work here, save and perhaps return to buy land or a business in the old country.

Many struggled to send money home too. According to Michael Barone, author of “The New Americans”,  ‘by 1914 the Italian men were sending 14 million dollars annually to their families back in Italy. Many of the men went home and stayed until they needed money again. They made the ocean journey back and forth several times; it was a routine part of their lives until they were able to bring their families over.’

A good portion of our labor pool today is made up of immigrants. Among numerous tasks, they cook and serve our food, clean our homes, cut our grass and look after our elderly parents in nursing homes. They give energy to our work force by bringing in younger, eager workers. They contribute to the system through the many forms of taxes they pay. Most jobs they perform pay low wages and provide no health care for their families.

Of course, illegal immigration is and will remain a source of tremendous concern. Our government must deal with the illegal immigrants already here who have the documentations to become citizens and then, establish the long, over due law.

Our history is an ongoing process of learning and change by many people. There is room for many voices. And as my grandmother used to say, “You should give thanks every day.”

Toy Box Revisited

By

Gerry Niskern

It’s nothing fancy. My toy box doesn’t resemble an animal, or even an interesting Pirate’s treasure chest. It is just a big plastic storage container with a lid and tiny wheels underneath for easy moving.

But, oh the wonders it contains! I got it to store the surprisingly fast accumulation of toys when my first grandkid arrived 48 years ago. The contents have changed over the years as objects were broken, proved uninteresting or a great new addition was stored there.

It is fun to sit back and watch as each new grandchild or visiting little dignitary explores the contents; which happens when they can crawl over and pull them selves up to peer in. The interest and approach to various toys is amazing, and is totally different with each kid.

I almost sent it on to St. Vincent’s de Paul along with other donations when my son said, “ you better hang on to that, you never know.” I’m glad I did. A smart little sixteen month old toddler enjoyed exploring the box recently. But of course, she had other territory to explore first. A complete inventory of the kitchen had to be taken and that required opening and shutting every door on the lower cupboards.Door knobs had to be tried. Bathrooms needed inspected.

I know sixteen month-olds can’t talk much, but they sure do understand what you are saying! When I suggested for her brother to come and I would show him where he could find the old toy box to drag out, she was dancing ahead of us and laughing with anticipation. She pulled out one dolly first, then another and finally a third. She was shocked to see the third had bright red nail polish on fingers and toes. Clearly, something was wrong and dolly # 3 was in big trouble! She proceeded to feed each one. This was accomplished by cramming her own little plastic dish down on their faces and then  wrapping them up in a blanket. When she was shown how, she was not interested in  cooking something for her babies on the little toy stove, even if the burners did turn curious bright red. Clearly a modern young woman!

The cars and stuffed animals were inspected briefly and tossed aside. Next out of the box came the Jack in the Box; probably everyone’s favorite and one of the oldest. When one great-grandson was a baby he was really afraid of Jack. He wanted me to crank it up, but then he would leap into my lap every time the music stopped and Jack suddenly popped up. My little visitor watched me crank the handle a couple of times, insisted on  turning it herself and then slammed the lid down on Jack and walked away.

When she pulled the tiny little wagon with wheels out of the toy box, she immediately tried to stand up in it. She then found it wouldn’t roll good enough on the carpet and moved it to the bare floor and put one foot in again and immediately fell on her keister. It was obvious that she thought it must be a skate board. When her brother showed her how to put one of the dolls in and pull it around by the cord, she loved it and put a few miles on it. Unlike previous toddlers she was always careful to look ahead and miss any obstacles that would tip it over.

She had fun visiting and exploring my old toybox, but she’ll never realize that I had much more fun watching her unique approach to everything she found!

“Coffee Time Downtown”

By

Gerry Niskern

How old were you when you had your first cup of coffee? You know, that forbidden drink that wasn’t good for you. Why, the caffeine would stunt your growth!

The brew we know as coffee has been around prior to 1000 A. D. In fact, the world’s first coffee shop actually opened in Constantinople in 1475. Back then, the Turkish law actually made it legal for a woman to divorce her husband if he failed to provide her with her daily quota of coffee.

Throughout the settling of the West, coffee provided people with their morning wake up call.  The farmers, cattlemen, prospectors and miners in Arizona bought their coffee in the whole berry form. Most groceries kept their coffee under the names of the countries in which it was grown. The bins containing the various berries were marked Java, Rio, Santos, Jamaica, Sumatra and so on.  The early settlers could smell and taste and make their choice. Some even carried the green berries, which you could roast at home to suit yourself.

The first activity in the morning in homes in early Phoenix, after the fire was built, was getting out the coffee grinder, filling the old black coffee pot with water and Arbuckle’s Ariosa ground coffee, for years the most popular brand around.  Of course, after it boiled a while, they threw in a couple of eggshells to settle the grounds.

In 1859, packaged Arbuckle’s sold for 15 cents a pound. For many years coupons for premiums came in the packages. The most popular item redeemed for the coupons by the cowboys in the West was wedding rings.

Many times coffee was used as a medium of exchange instead of money. The Indians of Arizona frequently buried a package of Arbuckle’s Ariosa with their dead to sustain them in the happy hunting grounds.

In the l920’s Arbuckle’s sold out to the General Foods Corporation, but as late as the l940’s the grocers in Phoenix, such as A J Bayless and Bashas were still selling the Arbuckles brand.

As early as the l920’s Phoenix Union High kids were hanging out at a place called the Coffee Pot.   That establishment, shaped like a giant coffee pot, was located at 7^th street and Mc Dowell. It was still in business in the l940s.  The coffee was hot, strong and guaranteed to keep you awake during afternoon Geometry class.

Long time residents will remember Donofrios on  Central where the office girls working downtown went for their morning coffee break; before businesses started having their own coffee machines in the office.  Many a business deal was sealed at Googies on the Northeast corner of Central Avenue and E. Van Buren. And of course, the state workers from the Capitol building enjoyed strolling over to Capitol Drugstore on the corner of Jefferson and 17^th Ave for their coffee breaks.

In downtown Phoenix today, the kids from Central high and Brophy go North to AJ’s for their designer coffee drinks to help  them face afternoon Latin class.

And of course, AJs Central location is perfect for the most important cup of all.  The traditional “get acquainted” coffee date to check out the new Internet acquaintance. Does the trick every time!

“Self Reliant or Self Centered?”

By

Gerry Niskern

That’s just what today’s parents need, more ways for children to make their demands known.  Now they are teaching the pre-talkers as young as six months to use sign language to convey their wishes. “Baby Signs” classes are available throughout the valley.

Shouldn’t children growing up in our complex society start learning early on that sometimes you wait for wishes to be granted, or heaven forbid, refused?  Where will today’s children learn patience, a needed virtue in today’s world, if not at home? Kids need to adapt themselves to our demanding environment and it’s imperative we help them by not granting every request.

Our affluent society has spawned a few generations of self-centered offspring.

It is now the birthday party season. When school starts, the “keeping up with the Jones’s” also begins.

Parents are laying out a few hundred dollars to rent a room at a resort so 8 year olds can hang out in between trips to the water slides and restaurants.  Some are taking twenty ten-year-old buddies of the birthday boy to play a few games at the paint ball facility.  It’s difficult, and you might like to refuse, but come on, “ everyone’s parents lets them do that”: everyone’s parents that are way cooler than you, of course.

A young mother I know, who grew up in another culture, expressed bewilderment at the elaborate guest prizes. “We’ve rented the mandatory jumping cage, hired clowns and magicians, but what is it with these expensive guest prizes?” she asked. Another mother mentioned elaborate tea parties for little girls who are expected to arrive in fancy dress, presided over by a hired hostess.

DJ parties just for fun that cost several hundred are prevalent among the junior hi set. When they get older the stakes are raised. High school kids parents rent a couple of vans and take all their friends to Disneyland for the weekend, all expenses paid, of course.

It is only natural that parents want their children to have more than they had. When both parents are working and under a lot of stress, sometimes they have to skimp on time. They try to make up for it with giving. The Center for the New American Dream that promotes simplified living believe this results in kids who are too focused on material things. Who is going to draw the line and acknowledge that even extravagant birthday parties are just another way of raising very self-centered kids? The special memories that parents hope to create are instead creating a sense of entitlement. The message children often get is that acquiring more will make them happy.

Of course, we all know that the commercialism that permeates our children’s world is very hard to control. Madison Avenue used to try to impress parents; now they have moved directly to kid marketing, leaving Mom out of it. Product images are everywhere on TV, not just commercials but with direct tie-in to shows.

The American Academy of Pediatrics is on record as saying it “believes advertising directed toward children is deceptive and exploits children under age 8”.

If you receive everything you want at age 9 or 10, how do you handle future disappointments in relationships and the workplace?

Most young parents would like to break the cycle and get back to simpler times, but who has the courage to go first? Could they begin with the sign for NO that parents could use and teach the pre-talkers?

Funny thing happened on the way to Surgery

By

Gerry Niskern

When I asked my PC doctor if he thought I was too old for knee surgery, he answered. “Oh I think you would do fine. You are a young 85!” Those are what is known as  “famous last words.”

You see, for quite a while I had had a left knee that was killing me every time Iwalked a little more than usual. I wanted to have knee replacement and get on with my life.

I got a referral for a knee surgeon who was supposed to be “the best” in the valley. What didn’t realize was that lot’s of other issues can occur after surgery; but I was about to find out.

On the day of scheduled surgery I was in the pre-op room after having a spinal block when they came in and announced that the AC wasn’t acting right in the operating room and we would have to reschedule for the next week. OK, that was fine, but guess what, I couldn’t move for eight hours until the feeling came back into my legs and other essential parts.

After making new arrangements for family members to help, since it was summer vacation time, I returned a week later. Afterwards I found out that I didn’t have the normal Aqua style bandage on the stitches that can be showered with, I was informed that I had the old style dressing that had to  be changed twice a day and by the way, “when we ripped off some tape in the operating room we ripped off a chunk of skin, so that has to be dealt  with separately!

I was expecting to be out and about in two weeks like my other knee surgery, but nobody told me that twelve years makes a big difference! I was walking fine for a couple of days and then I developed a PINCHED NERVE in my back and couldn’t move without stabbing pain. After accepting the generous help of family and close friends, I realized that I couldn’t impose on them forever and I turned to an agency for round the clock help. Let me just say here that some of the ladies were very good, and some were very bad!

During the month of August I had a trip to Emergency for painful stomach that evidently couldn’t take all the stress and new medications. The following day I had a trip to the emergency again with a new, very strange pain gripping my chest that I thought was a heart attack. The 6 or 7 Paramedics stood watching while a young member of their team tried to insert a needle into my arm. I looked around in time to see blood spurting across my bed. Nice to know this is how the new kid get to practice! The heart was fine, but the stomach doctor wants more tests!

After a Cat scan for the stomach in the hospital they discovered that I also have a Compression Fracture in my back. No one knows where I got it. Couldn’t possibly be when they pick you up to do the Cat scan and PLOP you down. So now I’m told to take it even easier than I was.

Did I mention that I had a couple of emergency visits from the plumber with everything backing up in the shower , toilet and washer.

So can we all agree? The next time  someone mentions Surgery, let’s all get together and NOT GO!