Jim Klobuchar - Our Last Mountain
He sat in his wheel chair, my old Swiss climbing guide, grumbling in a predictable show of annoyance as his wife eased him into their apartment on the fourth floor of a home for the aging. They live in the village of Zermatt beneath the Matterhorn, which he had climbed hundreds of times, five of them with me.
He is a man with that Teutonic stoicism that seemed genetically planted in his generation of Swiss mountain guides. A recent head injury in a fall affected his sense of balance. But his mind seemed clear and his fondness undiminished for the local Fendant white I brought for the family wine bins. I offered a hug and he extended an arm and a smile before attempting one more apology for the wheel chair. I shrugged it off. I told him the only superman I ever met was in the movies and couldn’t pass up a telephone booth. Which was not exactly a revelation to him. He had suffered fractures, been caught in avalanches, rescued dozens of stranded climbers as a volunteer and led me on the Matterhorn one day when the visibility in the clouds fell to zero and the mountain was otherwise deserted.
I told him I was in Switzerland as the escort for a tour group from Minnesota. This was in October, still more than a month away from the jammed ski slopes and raclette parties in the Zermatt bistros and hotel cellars. Which meant ceding the hiking slopes and the cable trollies to the prairie and lake dwellers from the American north.
I also wanted to tell Gottlieb how much he had mattered in my life and expanded it, not so much with thrills but as a tutor in exploring the high country in its mysteries and its magic, and doing it sensibly. He had also done it with safety, demanding that you abided some of its homeliest rules and axioms—that pride truly does come before a fall, that there are old climbers and bold climbers, but not many old and bold climbers.
“Do you still climb?” he asked.
“No,” I said.” I’m in that age group we call octogenarian, and I don’t know many of that type who are strong enough or loopy enough to go high as a climber. But I love the mountains still, hike in them, camp in them, and remember the sensations and the discovery, and guys like you who opened that world to people like me.
“What do you remember?,” he asked. He spoke with a warmth I had not felt in our 30 years together on the rope.
“ I remember the day we reached the top of the Matterhorn at the very moment the rays of the sun reached the Monte Rosa to the east and then the Michabel massif and the west wind was stirring, and at that moment there was no one else on the mountain. I sucked in the air and looked across to the Italian side of the summit ridge, the cross on it and I swear I could hear the pealing of the church bells two miles below us in Zermatt.”
So what had the mountains, and therefore Gottlieb, brought into my life?
They have been mountains of a kind to reward our dreams. We had been with them long enough to understand the illogic of imparting personal qualities to inanimate stone and ice, personal qualities dear to the poet: Mountains could be rash or vindictive.
We know that rock, snow and ice cannot be emperically kind or restless, punitive or rewarding. So it is said. The scientists and the meteorologists know this. But we also know that sometimes, especially on a windless morning when the sun leaps above the ridges and spills its flaming orange over the snowfields, the poets were right and the scientists, at least once, were wrong.
And so have the mountain years been rewarding, in the effort and search they demand, the bonding and the overcoming of a natural fear.
Oh my, yes. They have, and for those drawn to physically engage them, this becomes the most profound gift of the mountain world: The humility and gratitude it imparts to those who find themselves in the presence of a nature so mighty and beautiful, and in those most intimate times, so full of grace.
About Jim Klobuchar:
In 45 years of daily journalism, Jim Klobuchar’s coverage ranged from presidential campaigns to a trash collector’s ball. He has written from the floor of a tent in the middle of Alaska, from helicopters, from the Alps and from the edge of a sand trap. He was invited to lunch by royalty and to a fist fight by the late Minnesota Viking football coach, Norm Van Brocklin. He wrote a popular column for the Minneapolis Star Tribune for 30 years and has authored 23 books. Retiring as a columnist in 1996, he contributes to Ecumen’s “Changing Aging” blog, MinnPost.com and the Christian Science Monitor. He also leads trips around the world and an annual bike trip across Northern Minnesota. He’s climbed the Matterhorn in the Alps 8 times and has ridden his bike around Lake Superior. He’s also the proud father of two daughters, including Minnesota's senior U.S. Senator Amy Klobuchar.
Three Pieces of Holiday Advice from Larry Minnix
For some good stories and great advice, check out the following column by LeadingAge leader Larry Minnix: Three Pieces of Holiday Advice.
Creating a New Way to Pay for Senior Services in Minnesota
Yesterday's Minneapolis Star Tribune featured a discussion with editorial columnist Lori Sturdevant on the future of long-term care financing. Participants included former U.S. Senator Dave Durenberger; LaRhae Knatterud, director of aging transformation for the State of Minnesota; Beth McMullen, health policy director for the Minnesota Business Partnership; Stacy Becker, consultant to the Citizens League; Deb Newman of Newman Long-term Care and myself. You can read the full discussion here.
Jim Klobuchar-Need Help? From Manila With Love
The problem with my computer could have been solved by any 11-year-old with the juvenile’s basic exposure to locking taskbars and unpin options.
No such rescue was at hand in my house. My wife was wading through the sharp elbows of her competitors at a book sale in Barnes and Noble. My granddaughter was occupied with her third hour trig class 1,500 miles away. Jeffrey my default high tech expert, was out of pocket repairing someone’s sub-woofer in the suburbs.
I was marooned and working against the clock to finish a project. I needed to do a couple of pages before leaving for a meeting bringing together a half dozen alleged problem solvers on how to deal with life when it turns sour. My only qualification was having survived 45 years in daily journalism. The computer manuals were worthless because this was a problem in the computer’s gadgetry. I couldn’t log on and had already exhausted my one defense—pulling plugs and re-plugging them after 30 seconds
Gloomily I dialed the company’s customer service department, knowing I was headed for probable gridlock. This didn’t work very often. The folks who build these things are in the computer business, not the telephone business. They want you to handle most of this stuff on line, which becomes a problem because (a) a lot of us were past puberty before discovering the miracles of Cookies and Browsers and (b ) Modems sounded like some thing you had to take twice before going to bed.
Being crafty, I got out a customer’s guide that gave me the phone numbers for the trouble department. The first voice answered, “Your call may be recorded for quality assurance.”
This was good. “Listen carefully because some of the options have changed.” More progress. I listened carefully. None of the options seemed to connect to the problem of a computer that wouldn’t start . I could go to billing or customer service. I could go to technical support, all of which sounded promising. I called. None of them connected to the problem of a computer that wouldn’t start A voice said there was heavy demand. “We’ll be with you as soon as a line opens.”I could wait a few minutes. I called again. The same. I told myself this is normal. Lots of people call. Fifteen minutes and I’m in. It could have been worse. “Listen carefully because some of the options have changed,” a voice said. “I’d done this three times and, as a change of pace I hit one of the number keys blindly. “Your opinions are valuable to us; if you like to comment on our service, please stay on the line and an agent will be with you shortly.”
Buoyed by this foothold of progress, I punched the requisite buttons and three minutes later a voice answered. “Welcome to the service department,” the woman said cheerfully, “what can we do for you?”
I explained the problem. I’m in Minnesota,” I said. “My name is Jim. Where are you?”
“ I’m in Manila,” she said pleasantly “My name is Melanie. I am your agent for today.” I said I thought Melanie was a lovely name and I described my problem. She began giving instructions, about things like modems, and outlets and yellow cords. Nothing stirred on the screen, We went deeper into the computer’s innards. I did plug-ins and hit buttons. Nothing happened. She suggested that I follow the trail of the yellow cord, which disappeared into the bowels of the wiring jungle under my desk: “ Melanie,” I said, “ it’s obvious that you know your job very well, but when you try to educate me I’m just not able to understand you’re technical talk because we accent the words differently. You have a fine voice and speak well and your English is good But I wonder if you could switch me to an office in the United States. I know your company doesn’t like to do this.”
Melanie laughed and said she could do that for me and told me to stay on the line. “What a find” I told myself, “a real problem solver.” Most of the American firms that set up call centers, in southeast Asia and Latin America, saving millions with cheaper labor, pretend to meet your request and shift you back to an American office. So I heard some transfer sounds and said, “I’m in Minnesota.” The voice on the other end sounded surprised. “Hello,” she said voice said. I’m in Manila. My name is Melanie.” Somehow somebody had rerouted the call back to Manila.
So I was left with my unresponsive plugs. I pulled one out for auld lang syne, put it back in the outlet—and every light in the computer came alive.
You need expert computer repair? Give me a ring.
Building the Future of Senior Living in North Branch - Clayton Anderson's Legacy
Ecumen lost a feisty friend and benefactor when Clayton Anderson died last Friday. Clayton was 101. He served the North Branch area his entire life with his energy and personal resources, making North Branch a better place to live.
When he donated the land that would become Ecumen North Branch, long before he himself called it home, it was with a vision of this state-of-the-art senior living community in mind. Clayton made the future possible.
Godspeed, Mr. Anderson, on your next journey.
CNN PHOTOS: Remembered: The Alzheimer's Project
Photographer Gregg Segal created "Remembered: The Alzheimer's Project," as a way to honor those living with Alzheimer's. The photos contain projected images from the subject's younger years, illustrating how we often forget who those with Alzheimer's once were. Click the link to see the images and learn about how the powerful images were created.
Thank you! Together, We're Changing Aging.
Your voices were heard – on Give to the Max Day, we raised more than $5,000 in support of Ecumen and Awakenings!
A special congratulations and thank you to Kori Williams, the Ecumen donor who won a Golden Ticket of $1,000 towards Awakenings.
While Give to the Max Day is just once a year, we are grateful for the year 'round support from you and other Ecumen advocates. Without your commitment to changing aging, we could not accomplish all we do to make living longer, living better.
Again, THANK YOU!!!
Ecumen Academy of Lifelong Learning: Because you're never too old to learn!
It wasn't just the seniors in high school who returned to school this fall in Apple Valley.
So did a group of senior citizens. Or rather, school came to them. 
Through an opportunity that was new this fall, 23 senior citizens took either one or two courses that Inver Hills Community College coordinated with staff at the Ecumen Seasons at Apple Valley residence.
Read the full story about Ecumen Academy of Lifelong Learning at Apple Valley Patch.com.
Raise Your Voice. Change Aging. Give Together.
Today, YOU can be the change agent to make living longer, living better. Here's what you need to know:
- Giving began at midnight and goes until 11:59pm!
- GOLDEN TICKETS of $1,000 will be given to a random donor's charity every hour -- so any gift at any time can make a big impact!
- Keep an eye on the Leaderboards -- prizes of $15,000, $10,000 and $5,000 will be awarded to the top three nonprofits which received the most dollars in 24 hours. Help us make that Leaderboard!
- PASS IT ON! Encourage your friends, family, neighbors and colleagues to give to Ecumen! E-mail, call, Tweet, or send a Facebook message -- just let them know!
Make your voice heard for changing aging TODAY!
http://givemn.razoo.com/story/Ecumen or www.ecumengiving.org
Raise your hand. Change Aging. Give Together.
People are already thinking about changing aging. Just last week, Ecumen’s Awakenings project was featured on Kare 11’s Land of 10,000 Stories. Take five minutes to watch this incredible video – see the faces and hear the stories of Awakenings.
YOU can make change happen! Ecumen is participating in Give to the Max Day for the first time ever, encouraging our partners to stand with us for innovation in senior care.
Here is just one story among the many ways Ecumen is changing aging:
This summer, on a Twin Cities golf course, Carri*, an Ecumen supporter, was telling her partner about Awakenings, Ecumen’s revolutionary new approach to Alzheimer’s care. As she described the incredible experience of residents shaking off the effects of archaic treatment and "awakening" to life once more, her friend’s eyes filled with tears. He cried as he described how his own mother had suffered from Alzheimer’s and experienced the very symptoms Awakenings works to eradicate. When she passed away, he had tremendous grief. He was astounded that a program like Awakenings now existed – and wished that his mother could have experienced it.
Change can’t happen fast enough. More people need to know about projects like Awakenings – projects that are literally changing aging and changing lives. When you participate in Give to the Max, you’re raising your hand for Ecumen and for change.
Raise your hand for changing aging on November 16! Visit www.ecumengiving.org for more information.
*Name changed at the request of the donor