Kena Hora!

Palo Alto, CA. "Make the discussion of end of life normative."

I heard this admonition at the Purpose Prize Summit over two months ago, and it has returned to my consciousness several times since.

Its speaker was Ellen Goodman, the Boston Globe columnist, who explored the idea in the Summit's keynote address.
 

An unexpected observation for an event celebrating unique boomer social innovation, no?  Goodman was talking not about something singular and spectacular but something universal and inevitable-- we're all going to die. How shall we approach that?

She is actually doing more than raising the question.

As part of her "encore career," she is bringing physicians, policymakers and journalists together to build a movement to do just what she admonished: Make this discussion a part of our lives and examine the choices that many of us may have for the end of our lives.

Confusing Talk with Action

One of the digs made against the Positive Aging movement is that we're so caught up in the potential of aging-- brain growth, expanded creativity, letting go of the less important parts of life, pursuing meaning and purpose-- that we tend to deny the negatives-- loss, physical decline, mental challenges...

Death.

In the recent national healthcare debate, it wasn't all that hard for some scaremongers to conflate "End of Life Discussions" with Death Squads. Why? Because many are so spooked by the prospect of death that somehow talking about it can be misconstrued as planning it... and not in a good way.

I come from a cultural tradition that frowns on talking about death. Talking about it, I was led to understand, could invite it. "Kena Hora!" my mother (and other Jewish mothers) would say if you brought up the topic; it was a way to ward off the "Evil Eye."

The Evil Eye's job was to inflict injury or bad luck, and we all knew where that could lead: right to the grave.

The Silent Treatment

I got the same message from Dad.

I remember trying to have the conversation with him that Goodman promotes over ten years ago. I raised it somewhat jauntily-- or so I thought-- by casually asking, "Hey, Dad, you've accomplished so much in your life, what would you want your obituary to say?"

I was met with icy silence. He wasn't going gently into that good night; or if he was, he sure wasn't going to talk about it.

He and my mother were of the generation when you didn't mention-- or even allude to-- certain ideas: sex, cancer, and death. Now there's a trio.

Well, we now have a sex-drenched culture, particularly in the media; no way of avoiding it unless you wear blinders. And many of us have heard the details of so many oncological diagnoses and treatments that I think it's fair to say that that conversation has become normative.

But death? Death still has its Sting-a-Ling-a-Ling.

Is There Potential for Progress Via Self-Involvement?

I think it's incumbent on us boomers to change that.

We've been accused of being obsessed with ourselves-- and for many that may be true-- so why not take the lemon of egocentrism and make lemonade out of it by declaring that our deaths, just like our lives, will be a big deal, worthy of focused consideration, planning and some attention from others?

I'm not talking about creating "bucket lists" or making arrangements for memorial service extravaganzas.

I'm talking about careful and thoughtful discussion; drawing on the wisdom of our elders (if they're willing to impart it on this topic); checking in with our children, friends, and others who care about us.

Making the discussion normative.

Willing to have a conversation, reading about the issue, exploring options-- aren't they the way many of us have approached so many aspects of our lives? Why not this one-- not only the last, but such an important, one.

Acknowlege that this "conversation" is a crtical task that needs a focused, intentional approach.

And then, perhaps, as Dr. Spielvogel says at the end of Portnoy's Complaint, "Now vee may perhaps to begin. Yes?"

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