Hospice Journal by Jon Katz
Aug 6th 2008

Crossing to Safety, (2)

Posted in Izzy, Marion

 

 

Marion, Loving Izzy

Marion, Loving Izzy

  Crossing to Safety , (cont.):

    When you love someone,
    more than you.
    when you listen,
    when you trust,
    when you are trusted.
    when you talk to your sister,
    make a friend, 
    when you listen,
    when you hear.
    When you look ahead,
    and not back.
    When you take a leap,
    into the air,
    and ride the wind,
    into your life.

Aug 6th 2008

Crossing to safety

Posted in Marion

  Occurs:

   When you are honest.
   When you are brave.
   When you work hard.
   When you get help.
   When you take help.
   When you are determined.
   When you are good.
   When you are encouraged.
   When you love.
   When you are loved.
   When you  believe.
   When you respect yourself.
   When you are frightened.
   
   When you survive.

Aug 6th 2008

Marion, Izzy

Posted in Marion

Aug 4th 2008

Izzy’s broken soul

Posted in Izzy

 

August 4, 2008 – I have always thought that Izzy is a broken soul, and so he knews another troubled or broken soul when he sees one, and a broken heart. The truth is, no matter how good life is, hearts are broken sometimes, just by life itself, and Izzy seems to know that, and to soothe those broken hearts and souls, although he cannot heal them or change their fate.

There is a sense of vulnerability in his eyes, and he always knows need when he sees need, and is drawn to it, and be knowing, helps.

I always remember Izzy the first time I saw him, running wild in a fence at a farm, covered with burrs, going around and around, in circle after circle. And Izzy, I now see, was not running, but waiting, for me, and for Helen and Warren and Marion and Jo, and for Barb and Timmy, and the other souls who have crossed his path and been touched by his spirit.

Aug 4th 2008

“Izzy, are you well?”

Posted in Izzy, Marion

 

Marion, asking Izzy about his life.

Marion, asking Izzy about his life.

Marion, asking Izzy about his life.

 

“Izzy, are you well? How did you get to be the way you are? What did you do, running around that farm? You always watch him, don’t  you? You always look to see where he is? I won’t take you away from him, but I love  you, I do love you, and I know that you love me, and I see that, even thought I don’t see well, and it makes me feel good. I guess that is what love is, isn’t Izzy, you beautiful, beautiful dog. I know that you come and go, and will come back if you can, but sometimes it does make me sad, to see you go, but then I can look forward to seeing you again. Izzy, did I tell you about my dog – now, gosh, I can’t remember his name, he was a terrier, and it just went out of my head. Izzy, that happens to me sometimes. But you do not go out of my head.”

Aug 2nd 2008

Intervals, and life

Posted in Izzy, Other

 

This photo, to me, is just like a painting.

There is no such thing as a simple photograph in hospice work. The subjects can’t be told to move or sit still, the light is never, ever good, there is medical equipment and personal information everywhere, and you can’t use any of the tools, like a flash or lightstand. You also have to be especially sensitive, keeping out of the photo any elements that shouldn’t be seen.

So you learn something every time, and grow. I am thinking differently about my hospice photos.

I am deep into the composition of photos these days, in between writing for my next book, and I am focused on the idea of intervals and variety in composing photos. I am thinking differently about the placement of objects, centering, and mixing up shapes and sizes. As recommended by Craig Albert in his book “The simple secret to better painting,” the cardinal rule of design is “never make any two intervals the same.”

Mix it up. Tilt the shot, look for different shapes and sizes, think of how the eye works when it looks at a painting or phot.

I identify with the idea of intervals, because it is more or less my idea about life. You don’t have to do what is expected, you can bring different elements into life, try things others might not encourage you to try, listen to voices inside of you that want to come out. There is joy and satisfaction in life, and sometimes you have to battle your way to it.  It is always worth it.

Aug 2nd 2008

Izzy and Marion – Izzy gets a donut (1 of 4)

Posted in Marion

 

 

Izzy shares a plain donut from Dunkin Donuts
Izzy shares a plain donut from Dunkin Donuts
  August 2, 2008 – Hot sticky. Marion saved a donut her daughter Betsy brought her recently, and she was saving in on the table next to her bed, and she ate half, and she gave Izzy half. Before she opened the bag, she got a mischievous gleam – I don’t allow treats in Izzy’s hospice work – and she leaned forward and whispered to Izzy, “I’ll just give you a bite. We won’t tell him.” 
  Marion told Izzy that she had a good day, better than yesterday. Sometimes she loses her train of thought and she shakes her head.
   And this quite beautiful scene unfolded, Marion taking a piece, giving one to Izzy, carefully putting the bag away. Izzy takes food very softly, carefully. I never have to worry about him. I told her she has authority problems, and she cupped her ear, and said, “I don’t always hear well.” I told her she would be “in Dutch” again if she gave Izzy too many sweets, and she nodded and smiled.
  Then Marion turned to me and asked me sadly if what she had been told was true. Was Izzy left mostly by himself on a farm? What was his story? Relatives and friends have seen her photo in the Hospice Journal, and she was piecing together the dog, camera, and website.
  Marion has trouble seeing and hearing, and it was difficult to tell her the story of Izzy, and required more patience and pace than I might have thought that I possessed, and it took a very long time, but Marion took in every word, and then leaned over Izzy’s head and kissed him on the forehead. She seems to remember much and in one way or another, notices everything, even my camera and tripod.
  ‘”I will always love you, Izzy,” she said, after hearing history, and this enormous well of affection opened up on her amazing face, and I can hardly put the camera down when I am with her, so many beautiful emotions coursing through. And then, it was time to leave, and I said it might be a couple of days before we got back, and as we were leaving, a nurse came in and turned to Marion, and said, “Marion, are you crying?”
  And I turned and saw that her eyes had teared up a bit, and she waved me off, and said, “oh, it’s nothing, really, nothing at all.” And we left.