Eric Bergeson's The Country Scribe

Brother Joe has created a beautiful full-color catalog. It is at the printer. However, you can look at it online here. 

William Yang of the Twin Cities, 9 years-old in this video, tackles one of Chopin's most difficult and tumultuous pieces. He doesn't just play the notes, he adds interpretation. This shopping mall, or where ever this was filmed, will likely never see anything like this again! 

Prodigies often stick to Bach, Mozart and Beethoven simply (I am guessing) because the familiarity of the music and its structure can mask immature interpretations. If they venture into the expressive, it is usually with a small prelude by Chopin. However, this kid took on a piece that is the work of a stormy romantic in full roar. And he seems to understand it!

Of course, no Republicans (at least those who hope to secure any sort of nomination from the party) in this day and age publicly like Ike, or dare express sentiments like this. The "base" hates this wishy-washy liberal crap. It interferes with the need to bomb Iran immediately in Jesus' name.

With the exception of his craven silence in the face of McCarthy's slander of one of the great soldiers in American history, Gen. George Marshall, I believe Eisenhower to be one of the 20th century's visionary presidents. 

So sad that Eisenhower's party has abandoned his decency in favor of crude haters like Rush Limbaugh.  

What a beautiful day. I got up at 5:30 to run down to speak to the Todd County Garden Day at Long Prairie. Got there just in time to speak in time. I shouldn't give the organizers heart attacks like that. I got a message on my phone timed at ten-to-nine which said, "What if our speaker doesn't show! What will happen then!"

I showed.

But it was six hours on the road both ways, so I had to nap after I got back. 

Then, however, I went out for a run. It is the first run of the year. I have been working on the elliptical throughout the winter. The main purpose for me to exercise is mood. It makes me feel better. Exercising, I am convinced, got me through November, December and January without going to Arizona. 

February was spent in the New Zealand summer, and we got what exercise we needed from hikes. 

After we came back, I resumed 45-minute sessions on the infernal elliptical (for those of you unfamiliar, it is a running machine with pedals that also exercises the arms.) Boredom sets in. I fight not to look at the timer. But oh, does it feel good once it is over. 

It is much more fun, however, to run outdoors and enjoy all the visual, auditory and sensory stimulation that brings. Time goes fast. My usual running track is the old rail bed south of Fertile. However, that is still a mucky mess. So, I went to a favorite stretch of lonely highway south of Sundal, population 2. 

I wondered how the conditioning from the elliptical would translate to running, but it went fine. I ran four miles. Didn't set any speed records, but that is four miles is what I was running last fall. So, I haven't lost anything. 

The story of Aaron Gleeman, posted below, is very inspiring. I think we could cut our heath costs by 40% in this country if everybody went on an exercise regimen of at least thirty minutes per day. Exercise helps everything: diabetes, heart, depression, weight, cholesterol, all of it. It also staves off Alzheimer's, I am told. 

I don't want to become a preachy exercise fundamentalist, but the benefits are so tangible and immediate that we should all find ways to motivate each other to do it! 

That said, I have hesitated to post here about exercising because I am well aware that I could quit at any time (I usually do quit out of exhuastion during the nursery busy season when I probably walk 8 miles per day just chasing around), and I don't want to feel ashamed of that. However, I have been doing this since July, so perhaps I have some momentum. 

I have been enlarging some of the New Zealand photos for Facebook, but neglecting to put them up here. 

Here are two separate views of the golf course in Mangawhai.

Here is a larger view of a pasture on the West Coast of the South Island, just south of Hokatika. The rain forest covering the mountains in the distance is impossibly dense. 

Here is a beautiful sheep pasture on the east coast (not capitalized because it is not a region) of the South Island, near Kiakura. 

Here is a stunning sunset view of Lake Matheson in the foreground with the rain-forested base range of the Southern Alps in the background. A tiny sliver of the higher Alps is also visible. 

Here is a striking sheep pasture north of Gisborne on the East Cape of the North Island. 

Here is a larger view of the south base of 90-mile beach. 

And my favorite, here is a huge view of Bessie!

In case you haven't heard yet, Grand Forks Herald columnist Marilyn Hagerty's review of the new Olive Garden restaurant in Grand Forks has become the big internet hit. 

These waves were coming in against a stiff wind. When they brok, the mist blew the opposite direction. This is on Mangawhai Beach (pronounced "manga-fie"), North Island. 

It takes a while to recover from such a wonderful trip as ours was to New Zealand!

Because we came back from late summer to late winter, there is a dream-like quality to our memories of the trip.

There was no highlight. All of it was highlight. Probably the most trying day was the day we were forced by rain to spend in a hotel in Nelson. But we needed the rest.

Every day brought surprises. And I know, given what we missed, that many surprises await if we go back.

While at Fox Glacier, Lance became somewhat entranced by the big block of ice. I could tell he wanted to go up on the glacier, but for that you have to take a walking tour, or hire a helicopter. We sort of agreed that we didn't have time for the walking tour (a full day) nor did we want to spend the money on the helicopter.

As we left the village, Lance was quiet in the car. I asked him what he was thinking, a question to which he usually pleads the Fifth. "Oh, we'll come back some day and walk on the glacier," he said. 

"We may not!" I said, realizing how after I have come home from other trips, I have regretted pinching pennies and refusing to buy an experience of a lifetime. We turned the car around, went back to town and found that 1) the walking tours had left for the morning and 2) the helicopters weren't flying due to weather up the mountain. 

At least we tried. We both were glad we did. Since then, Lance has found out that it is possible to helicopter up to glaciers in the Canadian Rockies. So, we don't have to go back to New Zealand, although that wouldn't be the worst fate. 

Most trips abroad are hard work. There are the anxious moments when you think you've misplaced your passport. Or your money. Moments of panic when you think you missed the bus, the ferry, or the plane. 

This trip didn't have a single such moment, probably thanks to Lance. More than once we'd go down the road a ways and I would reach for my wallet, get a little anxious--and he would hand it to me. He had picked it up off the dresser in the hotel. "I thought you might want it."

Ha, yes. You do need your wallet. 

My favorite baseball writer posts an inspirational tale of his past year. He won't, but he could put the diet in a book and sell millions. 

The "bush," which starts at the base of the mountain at the end of this paddock consists of 100 foot tall leafy evergreens with an understory of smaller trees and then another understory of ferns which can reach 30 feet in height. You'd need a machete to get off the trail any distance.

The West Coast of the South Island of New Zealand is primarily rain forest. You will do no walking off the trails--you just can't. There are trails which go for hundreds of miles through the bush. This short trail of twenty minutes length was more our speed. 

Here is Lance with a small version of the prototypical New Zealand fern. This fern is ubiquitous the entire 1000 mile length of the country. It is the symbol for New Zealand's national team: The All Blacks, of rugby fame. 

New Zealanders, like most non-Americans, think it a little weird to hang your national flag in your yard. We saw one New Zealand flag in a yard the entire trip, and that yard had an American flag in its window as well!

But All Blacks flags, pennants, signs, bumper stickers, gear and garb are everywhere. 

The All Blacks are one of the best union rugby teams in the world. The team is also the most prominent way New Zealanders express pride in their country. 

I remember calling home from one of these beautiful phone booths in 1988. Now they are relics, relegated to history museums such as this one in Norsewood, NZ. 

If you can deliver a thirty-minute sermon to this picture without losing your sanity, you qualify for the Lutheran ministry. 

With a better internet connection and some time to sort things out, I will have some more pictures over the coming week of New Zealand. Right now, it is to get used to driving on the right side of the road again!

If you can maintain a tolerance of, much less a love for, humanity after 17 hours in airplanes and another 10 hours languishing in airports, you are a better person than I.  

Got in at midnight last night, then spent a while getting to the hotel, etc. here in St. Paul. 

Went down to breakfast this morning and listened to (you don't overhear things as much with Americans, we foist our conversations on others. You can't help but overhear, and that often is the point) a conversation style which just wouldn't happen with New Zealanders. Both grouse about the weather over breakfast, but the style of grousing is totally different. 

As an American hears one person's story, he is in his mind preparing a rebuttal which will dwarf the story of the first person. "In 1968, I remember we had snow over the stoplights," and so on. They one-up each other until they eventually call a truce on that topic and move to another. The arms-race conversational style is the source of American tall-tales, I suspect, an aspect of frontier culture not seen in so pronounced a manner elsewhere. 

New Zealanders, in contrast, will grouse to each other in understated tones, "not much of a day today, is it?" and then snipe at each other's comments in a low key small-arms exchange issued in their sweet accent so you don't realize until later that the give-and-take was actually quite sharp, yet sort of a game, one played with a wry smile.

The comedy happens when earnest Americans meet ironic New Zealanders and the American starts telling tall tales. The New Zealander, far from taking up the challenge and telling tall tales of his own, goads the gullible American into more tall tales, all of which the American believes completely, even if they are utter lies. As the American gets anxious at the one-sidedness of the exchange, he doesn't quit but instead digs the hole deeper. The tales get taller and taller until eventually the New Zealander swoops in for the kill, often with the sly help of his fellow countrymen, using phrases from the first tall tale to refute the second tall tale or summing up in one pithy phrase the ridiculousness of the entire American attempt to win the conversation by piling up points claiming vast experience with the biggest this and the best that and the most famous this and the tallest that. 

I know this, because I have been the American many times. 

So it was funny downstairs at breakfast this morning to hear two Minnesota couples vying to outdo each other's weather stories at a volume that forced the rest of the room to listen. 

In Gisborne on the east coast of New Zealand this morning, we visited our last stop on the tour: Ryman Retirement Village. 

Wow. It was hands down the nicest nursing home/assisted living complex I have ever seen. Anywhere. 

We knew ahead of time that Ryman is on a roll. Started twenty-some years ago by two friends who objected to the state of nursing homes when they investigated places for their parents to stay, it is growing at a rate of two facilities per year. 

Ryman owns the construction company which builds the complexes. They tightly control every aspect of construction. Every detail is clearly looked after and has been thought out. 

A publicly traded company on the NZ share market, it is the seventh best performing stock on the exchange. It pays huge dividents to its shareholders. 

The facility in Gisborne opened in November. It hasn't filled yet, but its rooms are going fast. 

In a ring around the outside are individual villas. They each have a garden which looks as if it has been individually-tended for years. Each is unique. 

In the middle is the rest home and assisted living building. It glistens. The apartments are big and beautiful. The building looks and feels solidly put-together. 

What is truly impressive is the common area. Or common areas. They go on and on. A library, filled with books from the residents themselves. A convservatory. A posh dining hall. A swimming pool for use only by those who are able. 

The staff were friendly, open and welcoming. Despite giving no warning and showing up in the middle of a major event for the entire community held in the common room (a lecture on strokes), the manager pulled out of the meeting and gave us an hour-long tour. We were encouraged to visit with residents.

The residents are thrilled. They can't imagine living in such a place. They have friends. They have activities. They have privacy. They have some fantastic views out the huge picture windows in each unit. 

As we walked through the older people from the community mixing with the residents at a reception following the stroke event, it was clear that the people were having a great time. 

The manager, a woman who loves the elderly and has from an early age visited nursing homes, told stories of people who have entered the facility and started to do things they had long put away. An artist hadn't completed a canvas for years just signed one the other day. People's health improves when they start to eat the food, which is prepared by a trained chef and which runs on four-week cycles. 

The chef came out and said to me, "moving in, are you?" 

I said I was looking forward to his food. 

"You'll need it pureed, I assume?" he said. 

Ryman is the hot story in eldercare in New Zealand. The people we have met on the street have brought it up. They are aware of its share price. 

The place was so nice that once Lance and I got back in the car, Lance looked at me and said, "too good to be true." 

That was my feeling as well. Something just wasn't adding up in my head. I have been tossing it around all day now, and I have some hints as I remember conversations from people who are competing with Ryman. Ryman has a business model, and it is working, but it is based upon selling the independent housing and assisted living units to the retirees. 

Lance took a photo of a sign on one room's door which said "SOLD." 

However, the nursing home section is open to anybody, even those on assistance. There is apparently no government assistance fo the rent portion of assisted living, but once you qualify for rest home care you get help. But I do know what that payment is, and I just don't see how a rest home could thrive on that amount. 

I quizzed the manager on whether the assisted living portion was supporting the rest home portion, which is eventually going to house 120 residents. She didn't know, since all the books are kept centrally. 

I am also wondering about ratio of staff to residents. Fertile has 105 employees (not all full-time) serving 50 residents. The Ryman facility has 150 employees (also not all full-time) serving 120 nursing home residents AND some 80 other residents. That includes 30 dementia beds. 

In any case, this wonderful place has it figured out if (and only if) they are providing good care in the rest home section. The place is brand new and beautiful. I just wonder how they do it and how they are going to keep it that way.

I will be looking into this more when I get home to a better internet connection, one that doesn't charge you per KB of data used! (If you try to load a Youtube video, you might go broke.) 

Above is one of the sheep pastures (paddocks) we went past today. I will post more of these once I get home and have more bandwidth. These sheep are spoiled. 

Below, I finally stopped and took a picture of the classic New Zealand farmhouse. 

I got thinking today about how New Zealand's roads have shaped my picture-taking this trip. When you get on the highway here, you move. The only time you pull over is when they have a brief "slow-vehicle bay" so you can let faster vehicles past. Otherwise, it is virtually impossible to stop when you see great scenery. There are ample picnic pull-overs (without facilities), but they are always well-protected by bush and aren't where the views are! It took an hour today to find a place where 1) there was a nice farmhouse and 2) we could also pull over. 

No travel or tourism today. It rained throughout the day in the north half of the South Island. Nothing to do but sit in the room. Nelson is a beautiful city, but today it is getting drenched. 

Tomorrow, we get on the ferry back to the North Island. 

I used the day to do some research online. 

Lance and I have been discussing how with the Internet, all of the information is out there--it is just to find it. To find it, you have to know the right questions to ask Google. 

After learning some terms and situations in eldercare, I was able to find more online. Today I found a 60 page report of eldercare in New Zealand which has answered many of my remaining questions. Of course, it raises new questions as well. 

I have read several papers on aging in New Zealand, but the one I read today reflects the reality I saw in the nursing homes better than anything else. When I am in Wellington, I will ask people at the Aged Services office there what they think of this report. 

The perception of aged care in New Zealand is a hot political potato. There is a great interest by sitting politicians in judging it to be of a high quality. Anybody who rocks the boat, I suspect, will be shut down--at least until there are a certain number of highly-publicized and atrocious events that require the politicians to take action. At that point, they come out firing with righteous anger and probably overdo it, or at least come up with a lot of what we call unfunded mandates: Policy changes which don't come with the money to implement them. 

Here are some surprising things I have learned:

•Eldercare in New Zealand is relatively unregulated. Two-thirds of the nursing homes are for-profit. There is almost no way to rank homes or to check them out before entering other than to go in and sniff around. Literally, for smell, I think, is a true test of a nursing home's quality. 

•We are developing a two-tiered system for eldercare in Minnesota, one for people who can pay themselves and another for those who rely on government help. In New Zealand, the two-tiers are already in place, despite firm ideological convictions that all should be treated equally. 

•Culture is a bigger factor than policy in determining the level of care. New Zealand has great policies. However, the culture around aging here reminds me of the 1960s in the states. As we peered through the bars into an Alzheimer's unit (to which we weren't admitted entrance) last week, I saw a scene reminiscent of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Cold, bare hallways. Uniformed nurses. 

The stories I have found in the reports and some of the stories I have heard from at least three people here, when taken together, show a system that is still coldly institutional. Not all homes are as bad, of course, but in many residents are required to get up at 7 a.m. They have a short time to eat their breakfast. They sit all day in front of a TV. Because of staffing shortages, diapers are used even for those who could go to the bathroom with a little assistance. 

In several cases, weekend help was so low that nobody in the entire home got out of bed for the entire weekend. 

In another case, a nursing home with 80 residents had only two night staff! Two! Many similar cases were reported. 

Again, there are, or were at the time of this report two years ago, no mandated staffing levels. 

Many nurses reported quitting because they felt overwhelmed. Geisla, the nurse we met on the ferry last week was one. 

"I quit in despair," she said. After reading more, I understand better why she had to. 

It is apparently common to deal with troublesome residents by putting their call bell out of reach and shutting the door, particularly on weekends when staffing is even lower. 

One man reported that he put his Alzheimer's stricken mother in a home only to have her raped by a fellow resident two days later. The authorities did nothing and eventually the woman was asked to leave because she was "too much of a temptation." 

One of the biggest fears of everybody here, both in the reports and with people we have talked to, is retribution if they complain. Families will not even report egregious abuse for fear of retaliation. There is an ethic here of respecting authority and maintaining a stiff upper lip. 

So, the old British colonial social habits still overpower all of the social welfare instincts of modern New Zealand. I am going to expand on that theme after getting home. 

Look at the details and our social welfare state for elderly people in the United States is much, much more all encompassing, compassionate and complete. 

Social security payments here are a uniform $500 per two weeks for everybody. That isn't much given the high cost of living here. It isn't much if you lived in the States! It is clear to me from seeing people on the streets that many elderly are trying to live on that amount. That is about $10,000 per year. 

Elective surgery? You pay for it yourself. Included in the category of elective surgery is cataract surgery, by the way. And knee replacement. Anything which isn't threatening to kill you immediately is basically elective. 

So, to sum up, what I have found in New Zealand is not the socialist "we pay high taxes but get good care" welfare state that I half expected, but a free-market dominated, unregulated, institutional, cold and sometimes cruel system which is woefully underfunded, understaffed, underappreciated and ineffective at providing even basic dignities to the frail elderly. 

It would be one thing to just read the reports. But I have seen the body language. 

Now, I am not saying that New Zealand's care isn't better than some places in the states. But I know that I wouldn't grow old and frail here over rural Minnesota at any price.

The rough care arises from a sheer disregard for the frail elderly which we share in some measure in the states. Regulation can help, but only if it is followed with funds. Overall, what is truly necessary is for people to value and treasure the elderly. All else follows.