Wellness Wednesday: How Love Helps Us Survive

I was still the new girl in my fourth grade class at The English School in Bogotá when I gave valentine cards to all 20 kids. At recess, I saw Pedro, a Cuban boy, rip his card in half and grind it into the dust with his heel. 58 years later, the image remains burned into my memory, not because I liked Pedro but because it seemed like such a mean thing to do.

All we are looking for in this world, whether you’re the new girl or not, is kindness. An acknowledgment that we matter. Valentine’s Day gives us a reason to say so.

Pandemic Imposes Loneliness

The pandemic has imposed such loneliness on the world.

There’s been a sense of removal, loneliness and even depression because social interactions have been so limited.

Dr. William Schaffner, Vanderbilt University Medical Center, quoted by Rachel Wegner, USA Today/Nashville Tennessean

Companionship Eases the Pain

In Rachel Wegner’s recent article in USA Today and the Tennessean , she reported on an elderly couple who married mid-pandemic. Both husband and wife agreed they felt blessed to have each other.

Life with Florence is good, so I want to keep living.

86-year-old Rudy Saperstein, about his wife, Florence, age 89.

Love Carries Us Forward

Now comes Valentines Day, bringing us messages of love. Love, that most luxurious of connections, has the power to keep us afloat.

My daughter sat by my bed for hours when I was so sick in Amsterdam. My sister massaged my weak, dry hands. Together, they carried my husband forward until he could carry me back to America. Neighbors took over the watch. Therapists stepped in. Slowly, I regained myself, and my husband and I regained our lives. Life with each other is so good that we want to keep living.

I received a Valentine’s Day card from my cousin Jeanie in California the other day. She thanked me for my crazy-early 2020 Christmas card, one of the many I wrote to my extended Amerson family last fall. Jeanie said how glad she was that I’m healthy again, and that she hopes that we’ll come visit. That is a light at the end of the tunnel for us all. Never has a card seemed more important, including its printed message.

Just sending you a note to say you’re in my heart and thoughts, on Valentine’s Day — and every day.

Lynn Horrabin, Advocate-Art card for the American Heart Association.

Another cousin Jeanie in Minnesota wrote me a real letter last year in response to my brief card. It was lovely to hear from her. I met both Jeanies during a South Dakota family reunion many years ago. Today, I wonder if they were named after my Aunt Jeanie, who we lost last month. She seemed to have all the time in the world to hear what I had to say, and now I just miss hearing her words back to me.

Write to family. Write to friends. Use Valentine’s Day as an excuse, or just scribble a note on an index card and send it off. You never know who’ll write you back just when you needed it.

Weekend Wildcard: How to Take Care of Yourself Like Tom Brady With Fitness, Family, and Fun

I’m a terrible football fan. About halfway through a game, I’m known to ask who the guys in the blue tights are. I cheer every good play by either team. But on Super Bowl Sunday, my husband and I almost always gather with friends and family to watch the event, sometimes for the game, sometimes for the ads, and always for the halftime show. I can still visualize Jennifer Lopez and Shakira in last year’s shake and strut in Miami. Just don’t ask me who played.

Super Bowl Sunday is also an anniversary. It marks a year to the day since our rescue Lab, Kumba, came to live with us, and 29 years since the Sunday I first revealed my pregnancy during Super Bowl XXVI. Our daughter was born that fall.

This year, we are following the social distancing guidelines that have kept us healthy for the past 11 months, no matter the tradition, just as the editors of The Palm Beach Post are begging us to do:

It’s never easy, remembering to tote masks and hand sanitizer everywhere we go. All of this, it seems, is magnified on weekends like this, when we think about what we should be doing. It’s even tougher when we see members of the Covidiot Caucus prancing around barefaced as if ignorance is an antiviral.

The Editors of The Palm Beach Post

We’ll be watching the game in our little bubble with Kumba as Tom Brady and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers take on Patrick Mahomes and the Kansas City Chiefs on the Buc’s home turf.

Although I know who Tom Brady is — in part because we lived in New England before retiring to Florida — I had to look up the sportscaster term GOAT: Brady is the NFL Greatest Of All Time. Still, even I know that Brady is more hated than loved despite his remarkable record — nobody likes the guy who dashes everyone else’s opportunities to win, and then there’s the deflated ball scandal. But, in leaving the Patriots and bringing the Bucs to the Super Bowl, Brady has become a little easier to like, even admire.

He is the NFL version of Benjamin Button, seemingly getting younger as he ages chronologically, or at least, slowing the aging process down in a way that defies belief.

Gene Frenette, Florida Times Union/USA Today Network

So, as we look at how we can stay the course during this pandemic, let’s ask WWTBD What Would Tom Brady Do? It comes down to fitness, family, and fun. Thank you to sports reporters Gene Frenette and Joe Schad for enlightening me.

Have Fitness Goals

Throughout Super Bowl week, the husband of a supermodel looks as energized and youthful as he did during any of his Patriot years. His secret goes beyond being physically fit. Brady’s will to prepare, beyond just practice and film study, remains as vociferous as ever. No joke, he actually said Thursday that he wants to focus on improving his “speed” in offseason training.

Gene Frenette, Florida Times Union/USA Today Network

Appreciate Family

The best part about winning is having the people that have helped you get there and supported you there with you to enjoy it. Some of the best memories I’ve had in my life are being with my kids right after the Super Bowl and celebrating with them.

Tom Brady, GOAT quarterback, as quoted by Palm Beach Post reporter Joe Schad

Don’t Take Yourself Too Seriously

‘Papai não sabe de nada,’ which means ‘Daddy doesn’t know anything.’ I usually get that a lot in the house.

Tom Brady, about speaking Portuguese, his wife’s native language, as quote by Palm Beach Post reporter Joe Schad

This is the year to root for the Brady underdog GOAT against Kid Mahomes. Here”s Jim Gaffigan’s suggestion.

Enjoy your wings for few, folks!

Family Friday: My Secret Pandemic Domesticity

When he retired some years before I did, my husband took on the shopping and cooking responsibilities and after-school supervision of our teenaged daughter, activities that I’d juggled while working full-time (and volunteering) during our daughter’s elementary school years.

About a month into the new arrangement, R asked: “How in the world did you do this?” My honest answer: “Not very well.” When everything is done on the fly, none of it is very satisfying.

I think back to that conversation from within our current pandemic bubble, the previously unimaginable solitude which gives us nothing but time. It is an unexpected luxury.

The Pandemic Schedule Is Flexible

Breakfast sometimes takes three hours. Some days, lunch happens at 2. Entire chunks of time have vanished into Netflix binges — Alexandra Schwartz’ New Yorker review of “warm and witty” Call My Agent captures why it’s felt so good to be in Paris with this crew, and Decider’s Megan O’Keefe explains why I had to watch all 55 episodes of the Spanish telenovela Velvet (set in 1950s Madrid).

Writing Time Expands

But my productivity has also increased. I completed my memoir, THE DICTATOR FLEW OVER OUR HOUSE & OTHER TRUE STORIES: AN AMERICAN EMBASSY FAMILY MEMOIR, which is being considered for publication by the Association for Diplomatic Studies and Training. And I’ve been working on the structure of this blog, most recently organizing my posts by day: Politics Monday; Travel Tuesday; Wellness Wednesday; Family Friday; and Wildcard Weekend.

Domestic Chores Expand

Kumba

I’ve discovered the simple pleasure of hands-on homemaking. Early on in the pandemic, I pulled my mother’s sewing basket out of my closet and created facemasks out of old pillowcases and pajamas, enjoying the calming effect of sewing by hand. More recently, I’ve taken to patching up our rescue Lab Kumba’s toys, an endless task that he enjoys ripping to shreds.

Shrimp and Veggies

Cooking now takes over more of my day, from planning menus in My Fitness Pal , to soaking potatoes to leach out their potassium as advised by R’s doctor. Potassium-rich bananas, avocados, and beans are off the menu, along with tomatoes and salmon, so I’ve had to get creative in finding other ingredients. Here’s a recipe I created for a quick one-pan shrimp and veggies, and it’s leeks that add the magic creaminess (so worth the hassle of rinsing off the dirt first).

Sauté 2 cloves garlic, one chopped leek,, two chopped celery stalks, and one chopped red pepper until soft. Add 1/2 C frozen peas. Add shrimp (we buy 28 oz. bag of frozen, cleaned, uncooked) and cook until just pink. Salt to taste. Serve over rice or pasta, and leftovers make a great lunchtime salad. Enjoy!

What pleasures have you discovered in pandemic homemaking?

Five Ways That Gardening is Good for You

One of my winter projects has been planting a little vegetable garden in my side yard. With temperatures that range between a nighttime low of 60 degrees and and a daytime high of 80, South Florida’s fall-to-spring growing season is the inverse of that “up north.” While I’m feeling a little chilly as I write on this unusually cool 50 degree early morning on my screened-in porch, my old home community of Albany in upstate New York is registering a windchill temperature of minus 15.

My garden is tiny: five little cherry tomato plants, a couple of green peppers plants, and parsley, cilantro, and basil. And my husband recently replaced a diseased lime tree with a small Meyer lemon tree, and the dear little thing has already bloomed and begun growing teeny fruits.

In her recent article for the Fremont News Messenger, master gardener Susan La Fountaine lists five ways in which gardening is good for you.

Gardening gets YOU OUTDOORS

Although I get outside quite a bit, all but an hour or so tends to be sedentary. After my daily morning walk with Kumba, our rescue black Lab, I can sit for hours in my favorite writing room, the porch. My new veggie plot gets me out to the side yard every day to water, snip, and admire what nature is doing.

Gardening Increases your Strength and Flexibility

From clearing the old flower bed to enriching the soil, I’ve used different muscles to prepare for and tend my small plot. My husband takes on bigger projects, most recently clearing out a palm tree plot and adding mulch and decorative stone. You can imagine the body work involved in creating this amazing backyard retreat.

Gardening helps you Lose Weight

Researchers have found that carrying mulch bags, pushing a wheelbarrow, hoeing, picking weeds, planting seeds, toting your gardening equipment, moving pots, pushing a mower, and all the other gardening tasks suggest that women can lose 11 pounds and men 16 during the growing season.

Susan La Fountaine

Gardening Adds Fresh Food to Your Diet

There is nothing better than picking a couple of sun-warmed tomatoes and basil for a salad. A handful of parsley adds vitamins A and B and a full daily dose of Vitamin K to just about anything.

Gardening Increases your hope for the future

From planning my little plot on a piece of paper, to planting the seedlings, to nurturing their growth, to popping that first sweet tomato into my mouth, gardening is an act of hope.

The two fruit trees that stand in our side yard are a shining example of this: the mango tree and the avocado tree both began as pits which I coaxed into rooting, planted in small containers as they grew into seedlings, and planted in the ground as the tree emerged. The avocado has produced for three years, and I’ve told the mango I want it to catch up and give us fruit this year.

Gardening improves your physical and mental health

From getting us outdoors, to working our bodies, to improving our mental outlook, gardening is good for us. Wishing my readers in northern climes a cheery planning season and the hope that warmer days are ahead!

How Our Superhero Daughter Saved Our Lives

Superheroes, the comic book characters, have become big box office draws. From Batman to Spider Man, from Wonder Woman to Elastigirl, these modern versions of mythological figures are endowed with special powers — strength, flexibility, the power of flight, extra-sensory perception — that vanquish the super villains. Superheroes make the world a better place.

My husband and I have a special superhero who’s saved our lives in a dramatic way at three critical junctures, not with super powers but by just showing up. Our hero is our daughter.

Our superhero made us parents in Albany

We have one child. She appeared as a little cross on a white stick one January day in 1992, when I was 37 and we’d given up hope of my getting pregnant.

Her birth made us a family. Her childhood brought us joy.

Her persistence, patience, intelligence, and heart helped her emerge into adulthood as the first doctor in our extended family.

Our superhero held our hands in Amsterdam

Our daughter’s birth was my only hospitalization — until May, 5, 2019, when I was struck down by an undiagnosed arterial aneurysm while on vacation in Amsterdam.

Our daughter flew in the next day, along with my sister. They held up my husband while his world was crashing, and our daughter was at my bedside in the ICU for the six frightening weeks.

When I was strong enough to travel back to Florida, it was our daughter who made it possible to transfer to Shands Hospital, whose excellent care has deemed me well-recovered.

Our superhero signed us up for the vaccine in Palm Beach County

This morning, our daughter did it again, by signing my husband and me up to get the coronavirus vaccine.

It’s a Hunger Games scenario in Florida, with millions of people over 65 trying to get a limited supply of vaccine with minimal public health infrastructure and conflicting messaging. I sent the recommended email to the Palm Beach Health Department more than a month ago, finally receiving an acknowledgement a couple of weeks ago, then silence. Now, Governor DeSantis has pulled the rug out from under the county by assigning all vaccines to a grocery store chain which began assigning appointments a week ago in a 6AM web game with a limited door. All appointment were taken while I waited for two hours to get in. It’s been an exhausting week.

This morning, our daughter also logged as she ate her breakfast. And, just minutes before her long day of work, she got access to the site and signed my husband and me up. We receive the first vaccine tomorrow morning and the second one in a month. She’s done it again.

There are superheroes all around us

There are superheroes all around us, in truth. People going out of their way to help their neighbors. First responders. The kid featured in Inauguration Day’s Celebrating America who made $53,000 from her virtual lemonade stand to feed the hungry. Maybe you.

I thank you all.

My Aunt, Jean Amerson Brookins, A Life Force

It’s hard to accept that this happened so quickly and in this time of strange isolation.

My cousin Jon

My Aunt Jeanie died on January 17, slipping away quietly in her sleep just days before the inauguration she didn’t want to miss when Vice-President Kamala Harris crashed through glass ceilings. It would have been the perfect culmination of a fully-experienced life.

Jeanie was a child of the South Dakota prairie, born at the family farm on a snowy day in early spring. The youngest of my father’s sisters, she was small, slender, blonde and cute, my Aunt Snook wrote, and a positive force during “hard times.” She was also smart, absorbing everything from farming information to the lessons of the one-room schoolhouse, where she got straight As. She went on to become valedictorian of her high school class.

She was a beautiful life force who will be sorely missed.

My cousin Bob

Jeanie followed my father’s lead by attending Macalester College, paying for her year there by selling some sheep. She completed her studies in journalism and English at the University of Minnesota, where she met her husband Carl Brookins and became engaged in protests against the blacklisting of Pete Seeger. Her prairie liberalism led her through the Sixties counter culture movement.

I have a thousand Jeanie stories. I’m just so grateful to have experienced her wit, joy, love and pain. Everything was truth. She taught me about raw, full, truthful love. 

My cousin Laina

Jeanie had a 32-year career at the Minnesota Historical Society and rose to become Director of the MHS Press, which she she drove to heights of academic excellence with her research, writing, and editing. Among the publications Jeanie oversaw was my father’s memoir of growing up in South Dakota, From the Hidewood.

She was a life force, a sister who could harmonize, a friend, an intellectual wonder, a gifted individual.

My Aunt Mavis Snooky

She and Carl discovered the pleasures of sailing in Lake Superior, Puget Sound, the Caribbean, and the Adriatic, and they traveled extensively after retirement. She became a devoted gardener, and her backyard was a favorite gathering spot for friends and family.

Jeanie and Carl flew in from the Twin Cities to my wedding in NYC and pulled my new husband into the family with one huge embrace. She waited for our visits to the Midwest with a warm welcome, a spare bedroom, and all the time in the world to listen to what we had to say. A year ago, she carefully reviewed an early copy of my childhood memoir, giving me copious edits. She (and Aunt Snooky, who did the same) helped it become a better book.

July, 2012

Jean was a boon companion to her husband, a great mom, provider, and role model for her daughters, a home maker, a constant friend, a supporter of family and friends.

My Uncle Carl

This family is our strength.

Jeanie’s daughters, my cousins Shannon and Lissa

How A Dog Saved Our Life

CNN and Palm Beach County’s Big Dog Ranch Rescue rang in the New Year with a mega puppy adoption gala, wrote Wendy Rhodes in The Palm Beach Post.

Photo: Big Dog Ranch Rescue

The event was right on trend to ring out the Year of the Pandemic.

… the hottest commodity during lockdown after toilet paper and sourdough starters turned out to be rescue puppies …

Venessa Friedman, NYT Styles Section

When we adopted our lab Kumba in February, my husband and I had no idea that we’d be on the leading edge of the upwelling of community kindness and care that opened hearts and homes to rescue puppies last year. As Emma Gray Ellis wrote in Wired, the organic surge in adoptions emptied animal shelters as people confined to their homes during lockdown sought companionship.

Or maybe it was the dogs who opened our doors, and then filled our hearts.

Lab rescue saved kumba

Kumba was left at an animal shelter in Puerto Rico in the summer of 2019 by a family that was leaving the island. As a pure Labrador retriever, he was tapped by the Labrador Retriever Rescue of Florida (LRRoF) that fall. In November, he received the necessary rabies vaccine, and he was flown to Ft. Lauderdale in December.

But he was a very sick dog. LRRoF’s vet, xxxx, said he wasn’t sure how Kumba was even able to stand. He weighed just 50 pounds, was desperately anemic, and required transfusions and two rounds of antibiotics before he stabilized. He began to recover at his foster home.

Lab rescue believed in us

Meanwhile, my husband and I were realizing that we were ready for another dog. It had been two years since the death of our beloved chocolate Lab Django, and the awful black hole of absence had morphed into an empty space that begged to be filled. The story of Levi, our friends’ Golden Retriever rescued from Turkey, inspired us to seek out the equivalent rescue organization for Labs. We filled out the LRRoF application, passed our home visit, and scanned the LRRoF website for dogs ready for adoption.

Lucky us: we were the first family to meet Kumba at his foster home in January of last year when our daughter and her Lab Pancho were visiting (LRRoF requires that their rescues meet existing family dogs). We thought this Puerto Rican dog would pick us because we spoke to him in Spanish, but that didn’t seem to matter to him. He was sweet and soulful and ready to be loved, Pancho didn’t care one way or the other, and Kumba’s foster mom approved. We came home and waited for Kumba to fully recover.

On February 2, we brought him home.

We believed in kumba

It was a rocky start. The first thing he did was pee on the antique chest of drawers my mother bought at the Rome flea market in 1961. Of course he did: he was all wound up from the car ride, and we brought him inside immediately instead of giving him a chance to pee outdoors. That never happened again. By the end of the day, we’d found our walking rhythm.

But Kumba was anxious, needy, nervous. He needed to be right next to us. This was easy to accommodate in our retired, homebody schedule, most of the time. But on the occasion when we both were out of the house, we returned to shredded newspapers and chewed up paperbacks. Voracious reader, you bet. We got better about picking up after ourselves. He got used to sleeping his swank dog bed outside our bedroom door. We got use to him lying on the couch.

Kumba was timid at first
Our rescue Lab, Kumba, was timid at first.

Then, on March 13, the country went into lockdown.

Kumba saved our lives

We were suddenly in enforced isolation, and the creature who needed us so began to give us fun and joy and variety. Kumba had increased our household numbers by fifty percent and our household energy by much, much more.

In a recent article for the Associate Press, Mary Esch wrote about how dogs are bringing comfort to isolated residents of a New York nursing home.

The love of an animal is incredible. It releases endorphins, reduces blood pressure, reduces anxiety.

Catherine Farrell, director of therapeutic activities, Hebrew Home

We had no idea a year ago how much we would need this dog. We think it’s probably mutual.

Twas the Write Before Christmas

Liz Balsameda’s touching article in The Palm Beach Post tells us the story of Tom Gregory, a Palm Beach Gardens writer who has nurtured his daughter’s budding creative skills for many years. My father, too, was a word-smith, and he shared the delight of writing with me his entire life.

Letter from santa

Gregory conveyed his support in a letter from Santa ten years ago, using the meter and rhyme of Twas the Night Before Christmas. The jolly old man tries to talk the child into wanting traditional toys.

“Readers read, and thinkers think.” So flow the words from Santa’s red ink. “But writers, they are a different breed. They fail over and over before they succeed.”

Tom Gregory

The girl realizes that her letter has generated a unique response.

“If my letter to Santa a thought did purvey, then I must be a writer!” she did excitedly say. “Not just a writer who combines paper and ink, but a writer who writes so her readers can think!

Tom Gregory

Gifts from my father

Both of my parents encouraged the creative impulses of my sister and me. Susie took the lead in music and art — she is still a huge fan of all kinds of music and has a wonderful collection of art on her walls. I carved out a dancing and writing niche — I followed my mother’s muse with a brief dance career and a lifetime of teaching movement, and writing is still the drive that gets me up in the morning.

Mom shared her love of reading and Dad gave me writing tools. I learned calligraphy at his side with my own pen and ink set. Dad gave me the Roget’s Thesaurus that is never far from my desk on Christmas in 1966, when I was just 12 years old. That morning also revealed his gift of Clement Wood’s The Complete Rhyming Dictionary with the following inscription:

To Jane — We hope, through the years, when the muse appears, and you’re in the mood poetic, You’ll take this from the shelf while expressing yourself, and [… uh, magnetic? Frenetic? Come to think of it, why don’t YOU just look over page 383, and we’ll let this end with “yourself”] Dad

Today, let me finish the poem. “Let fly your skill genetic.”

Christmas wish

So Santa did say, On that cold winter’s night, “Merry Christmas to all, And to all A GOOD WRITE!”

Tom Gregory

Hey, writers: who was your special Santa?

How Darkest of Days Give Way to Hope

Before we retired to the South Florida tropics seven years ago, we lived in the Northeast, where shorter days meant colder days from the fall right into midwinter. My head doesn’t quite understand how the temperature stays mild here as twilight takes over before we’re quite ready for it.

We shine a light on the darkest days of the year

Nonetheless, this week marks the Winter Solstice in the Northern Hemisphere. We light up the dark with Christmas lights, with blazing fires, with candles in the windows and LEDs in the palm trees.

The shortest day of the year ushers in the winter, but it also marks the beginning of the sun’s return from its northern-most latitude. The days will gradually lengthen even as the cold grips the north, just as, in summer, they shorten as summer heat rises. There’s a certain beauty to the balance in nature.

We have voted out the dark trump administration

It seems fitting that the final weeks of the Trump administration should be the darkest of this awful year as the self-absorbed loser spins his web of lies in a dim corner of the White House. The election of Joe Biden was the promise of relief, and his presence on the national stage these past seven weeks has been a salve of leadership for our ravaged country.

brighter days are around the corner

As winter arrives in the Northern Hemisphere, the devastation is interwoven with a promise that darkness may not last forever: The day the death toll in the United States passed 300,000 was also the day the country began inoculating healthcare workers.

Elisabeth Dias, writing in The New York Times

The darkest day is behind us. The sun has begun its return. It will have marched toward the equator for thirty days by the time of the Biden inauguration, giving the new administration a few extra minutes of daylight in which to work for us. The rays will shine longer and stronger as the coronavirus vaccine makes its way across the country. Eventually, we will all be in shirtsleeves and flip flops. With our masks.

Here is one of my favorite Christmas carols, In the Bleak Midwinter. The lyrics were composed by the English poet Christina Rossetti in the late 1800’s for Scribner’s Monthly, and the melody was added by Gustav Holt.

How to Stop Failing

If American states were treated as countries, the places with the highest per capita coronavirus death rates would be: Slovenia, South Dakota, North Dakota, Bulgaria, Iowa, Bosnia, Hungary, Croatia, Illinois, North Macedonia, Rhode Island, Nebraska, Kansas, Arkansas, San Marino.

Nicholas Kristof

Nicholas Kristof stopped me in my tracks with this paragraph in his most recent opinion column in the Sunday New York Times. I have family roots (“ruhts” is how my Dad would say it) in South Dakota. What would that farm boy, who left the prairie to bang the drum for democracy in 1955, think about his home state leading the world in this most awful of ways?

Rugged individualism and stubborn self-reliance don’t make great bedfellows with the coronavirus. Governor Kristi Noem, who hails from the same area as my family, refuses to give the people of South Dakota — her bosses — the public health protection they need to stay alive: a mask mandate. Her freedom philosophy encouraged half a million motorcycle riders to assemble in Sturgis, South Dakota, for ten days last summer, the rally becoming a super-spreader event for the upper Midwest. And she is proud to be in the wrong.

Many in the media criticized this approach, labeling me ill-informed, a ‘denier’, and reckless. Some have even asserted that South Dakota is ‘as bad as it gets anywhere in the world’ when it comes to COVID-19.

Governor Kristi Noem

But then there’s my cousin Kristi, a nurse in the Prairie Lakes Healthcare System in the governor’s home town, who got her vaccine a couple of days ago. She posted this article on Facebook by way of encouragement. Now, that’s the kind of leader my family’s home state needs!

Refusing to wear a mask is today’s equivalent of drunken driving. The odds of killing someone are low, but collectively this year the refusal to wear masks will kill far more Americans than driving under the influence. This is the test of our lifetimes. Let’s stop failing it.

Nicholas Kristof