A TREE FOR ALL SEASONS

In a four year span during the mid to late 1990s my now-grown children lost three of their grandparents and their dog. My boys were 10 and 6 when my father died in 1994. Three years later there were three more losses. My mom died in 1997.  A little more than one year later my father-in-law and dog Kirby, a cairn terrier, died on the same day in August 1998. My wife and I were in Quebec City at a music festival, at the time, on our first extended vacation away from our children when we received the news in two heartbreaking telephone calls just six hours apart.

As a mental health professional who has spent time with bereaved children and adults over many years, I had extensive knowledge about how children process death at different ages. Over the years I developed good skills in listening and gently encouraging the expression of feelings through talk and play. But I also knew that addressing the death of strangers was not the same thing as coping with one’s own losses.

Like so much that I have struggled with as a parent, I knew I had to put my credentials aside and simply do the best I could to support my family and take care of myself, as I was bereaved as well.

Soon thereafter my family and I experienced  another death—this time  with an impact I had not expected and effects that linger to this day. In our yard was an old pine tree that had to be felled after it contracted a disease. None of the tree “experts” that I employed could bring it back to health.

It was a splendid tree of great character, oddly shaped, home to a squirrel’s nest and countless birds, and with branches sitting low enough for swinging and climbing. Its trunk was thick enough to run around to evade contact during games of tag. It was free enough of branches in one high spot to support a backboard and hoop.

It wasn’t easy to dribble on the grass but it was just perfect for endless games of H-O-R-S-E. On the warmest summer days its shade offered respite from the oppressive sun. Each fall I was left with the unpleasant task of raking pine needles. But our tree also bore pine cones that I threw into the winter fireplace for extra snap, crackle and pop that rivaled Rice Krispies.

It was our family tree, a tree for all seasons.

Today, when I look outside or sit in the yard I am flooded with memories of my old friend and the times we had together. We’ve planted a few new trees around the perimeter of the yard in the intervening years, but the hole in the center remains.

Henry David Thoreau wrote, “I frequently tramped eight or ten miles through the deepest snow to keep an appointment with a beech-tree, or a yellow birch, or an old acquaintance among the pines.”

Life is full of surprises, and it came as a surprise to me to think that I would one day be thinking about how much I really loved that old tree.

by Andrew Malekoff

Published in Long Island Weekly, July 2017

https://longislandweekly.com/a-tree-for-all-seasons/

A CHANCE ENCOUNTER - OR MORE?

Have you heard of godwinks? A godwink is an experience where you'd say, "What are the chances of that!" It’s been described by some as a spiritual message of reassurance, especially in times of uncertainty, maybe the impetus for restored faith during difficult times. Some see it as divine intervention, others as pure coincidence.

Although I was not familiar with the term, it reminded me of something that happened to me that I thought was astonishing. In 2005 I lost a very good friend and colleague named Roselle. We had become business partners in 1990. The longtime editors of a popular professional journal decided to step down and asked the two of us, strangers at the time, to become their successors.

Years later we both revealed that we were, at first, wary of each other. After all, we’d never met, and so we had no idea what it would be like working together as co-editors of an esteemed quarterly publication. Roselle was a university professor and I was a frontline mental health practitioner. What we shared in common was that we were both published authors.

After a relatively short period of testing and unease we not only became great collaborators but fast friends. The relationship ended in June of 2005 when I received a call that Roselle had died. It was sudden, unexpected and heartbreaking.

Shortly thereafter, in December 2005, I organized a meeting with two of Roselle’s fellow professors and friends. Together we decided to develop a special publication in Roselle’s honor. We were to meet in Manhattan at their university. Normally, I would have just taken the LIRR into the city the morning of our meeting, but, as luck would have it, at the time there was a transit strike. So I decided to play it safe and get in the night before and stay in a hotel while the trains were still running.

That night I took a walk and stopped in a bar to get a glass of wine. I walked to the end of the bar and there was my cousin Amy whom I had not seen in years. Unbeknownst to me, she lived across the street from the bar and was working as a real estate broker. It was great catching up with her.

Fast forward some months later. I was back in Manhattan to take care of some business regarding my partnership with Roselle at a local university. Having reconnected, I called Amy to see if she was free for lunch. She was and so we got together. She asked me why I was in the city. I told her I had to go to Hunter College School of Social Work to take care of some business related to a partnership I had with a professor there. I explained that she died last June. She asked me, “What was her name?” I told her, “Roselle Kurland.” She gasped and said, “Oh my God, I just sold her apartment!”

Was this a godwink? Was it a tangible signpost giving me hope and faith that someone is watching over me and everything is going to be alright? Or was it pure coincidence, a fluke? I choose to think that it was more than that. During these uncertain times, a source of faith, however unusual, is a welcome reminder that we are not alone and that there is hope.

by Andrew Malekoff

Published in Long Island Weekly, May 2017
https://longislandweekly.com/a-chance-encounter-or-more/

NO MATTER WHAT YOU'RE GOING TRHOUGH YOU'RE WORTH SOMETHING

On March 9, 2017 I had the honor of introducing Darryl “DMC” McDaniels, a founding member of the early hip hop group Run-D.M.C. Young and old of all backgrounds gathered together at the Leeds Place of North Shore Child & Family Guidance Center in Westbury for a community forum.

If you don’t already know, DMC is a hip hop pioneer, a rap poet and an inspiring prophet. The packed house at the Leeds Place got to experience all three in a two hour tour-de-force in which Darryl taught us about the history of hip hop, delighted us with rap lyrics and moved us with intimate stories of resiliency.

When I introduced Darryl, I told the audience that I learned that his favorite things to do as a child were to read comic books and pretend to be a superhero. In fact, I told them, he now produces comic books under the DMC – Darryl Makes Comics – label.

Darryl’s comics are not about traditional superheroes like Batman, Superman, Spiderman or the Incredible Hulk. Darryl, I learned, believes that there are heroes in everyday life with powerful stories to tell. Just like everyone in the room tonight, I said.

Darryl is 52 years old, six feet tall and solidly built, with muscular arms bulging from his tight black t-shirt. He spoke for two hours without a break, moving about energetically without breaking a sweat.

He inspired the crowd with the story of when he was a young boy growing up in Hollis, Queens, and he was a self-described Catholic School nerd who wore thick-framed glasses and read comic books all the time. He said he liked school.

He gave a great history lesson about the birth and meaning of hip hop. He described how neighborhood kids who had little in the way of physical resources brought music and art to the parks and streets by plugging  turntables and speakers into light poles, making dance floors out of cardboard boxes and creating street art by painting and drawing on walls.

In his talk, Darryl encouraged the young people in the room with transcendent and core messages of hip hop: “Always be open to do something different. It could change your life.”

Darryl spoke about his unexpected rise to fame and fortune, exhorting the young people to develop what they like to do, try new things, take chances and, most important, to know that “no matter what you’re going through, you’re worth something.”

He went on to say that despite his early rise to fame and fortune, at the age of 35 he discovered that he was adopted and was a foster child. Around the same time he went through a period of suicidal depression and became addicted to alcohol.

When he finally sought professional help, he discovered that he had been suppressing powerful feelings his whole life, especially things that angered him. Despite the powerful lyrics in his raps, he said that he never wanted to make waves in his personal relationships. 

Some of the lessons he learned were: “You have to express your truth. It’s normal to feel. Release what you’re going through. Your situation doesn’t define who you are.”

In time, with the help of his adoptive parents, Darryl met his biological mom who told him that she gave him up so that he could have a better life.

In the end, before Darryl patiently signed autographs, posed for photos and chatted with kids and parents, I closed the meeting by saying, “DMC gave his music to the world. And, tonight Darryl gave us his heart.”

Andrew Malekoff

Appeared in Long Island Weekly, April 2017

https://longislandweekly.com/no-matter-youre-going-youre-worth-something/

SCREENAGERS: GROWING UP IN THE DIGITAL AGE

On February 8, 2017, I was invited to participate in a program for parents and their teen and pre-teen children at East Woods School in Oyster Bay. The focus was on raising awareness about the struggles and danger our youth face today in connection with improper and inappropriate use of social media, cyber-bullying and gaming addictions. The program included a viewing of the documentary film Screenagers: Growing Up in the Digital Age, and featured a live panel discussion afterwards. I was one of four panelists.

Before seeing the film, I read some anonymous reviews written by adults and kids.  Many of them sounded like this one: “Spot on Fantastic!” A few others were more critical. For example, a 16-year-old wrote, “It focuses on the downsides of electronics and never positives.” A 12-year-old wrote, “The message of Screenagers is that kids just exist for their parents to boss around and children's opinions don't matter.”

The film was well done and did spend a good deal of time presenting the risks in the digital world. The strength of the film was the interaction it stimulated, a positive step toward reducing isolation and building community.

The audience of kids and adults was asked, “Are you more fearful after having seen the film?” Easily more than half the parents raised their hands. A 13-year-old boy, when asked what he thought, said that he hadn’t realized how the overuse of digital technology impacts the brain and learning.

I shared the insight that, “Most parents are immigrants to the digital world, while our kids are digital natives.” A mom responded by saying that she never thought about it that way, like actual immigration and the misunderstandings it can create between the generations.  Another parent spoke to the analogy by citing the challenge of trying to negotiate traditional and modern values with her kids, and how to preserve their cultural heritage without preventing them from adapting and growing.  

            “The digital world is an evolving landscape that parents have to learn to navigate,” said Kathleen Clark-Pearson, M.D., in a report she co-authored for the American Academy of Pediatrics. 

The digital world is a great place for kids to connect socially, share photos with family, learn and have fun. As “immigrants” to this high-tech arena, parents would do well to immerse themselves in the digital world of their children and learn as much as possible in order to build common ground for communicating effectively with their kids.

            If a child’s job is to explore and a parent’s job is to protect, becoming more knowledgeable and proficient in digital technology is essential for parents to help their children navigate the many risks and dangers of the digital world including online grooming, cyber-bullying, sexting, gaming addiction and sleep deprivation. Of course, adults are also susceptible to risks and, we have to be careful not to fall victim to “distracted parent syndrome,” when we use our own hand-held devices, for example.

            I shared the story of observing a mother and her pre-teen son sitting across from one another at a local diner. She did not get off of her mobile phone the entire time. The boy did not have such a device. He just fidgeted most of the meal. It was so sad. What was he learning from her example?

            Social media and digital technology are here to stay. The benefits far outweigh the dangers, but with the average kid spending 6.5 hours a day looking at screens, it’s imperative that parents learn the ins and outs, growing with their kids as we all get accustomed to this new world.  

Andrew Malekoff is the Executive Director of North Shore Child & Family Guidance Center, which provides comprehensive mental health services for children from birth through 24 and their families. To find out more, visit www.northshorechildguidance.org.

Originally appeared in Long Island Weekly, April 2017
https://longislandweekly.com/no-matter-youre-going-youre-worth-something/

           

           

"WHEN YOU TONGUE IS SILENT, ONLY THEN CAN YOU HEAR"

Living or working with teenagers can be unsettling and disorienting even when you think you have it all figured out. Teenagers will spare no time reminding you that, as an adult, you are not a part of their world.

I am reminded of a quip attributed to Mark Twain:  “When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.”

Having worked with countless teenagers for more than forty years, and having raised two of them, I discovered early on that whatever world I occupied outside of their presence with my professional reputation and credentials, these meant little to the kids I worked with or for that matter, to my own kids.

Decades ago I found something that one of my sons, then about 10-years-old, wrote about me in school. The heading on the page was, “My Dad.” Naturally I read on with great anticipation and a swelling sense of self-importance. Underneath the title he wrote, “My dad is 6’1”, bald, wears glasses, and busts my chops. He likes dogs. My dad has brown eyes and brown hair, at least what’s left of it. He’s a social worker.”

The kids I’ve worked and lived with invariably drew their conclusions about me as they got to know me. In turn, I drew my conclusions about them as I got to know them, despite what might be called their credentials, that is - the often-negative labels assigned to them. It is important to recognize the difference between the way in which young people are viewed and classified by others, and their own experiences and perceptions.

Assuming a stance of uncertainty is one way of saying how important it is for us to be open and reflective, to listen intently to the kids we see only then can we think more deeply and see outside the box.

One of my colleagues, Camille Roman, tells a story about growing up in an economically deprived and chaotic family and how desperately she struggled as a teenager to be heard, and how no one was ever listening. During one particularly troubling and heated exchange at a holiday gathering Camille, whose family is from Puerto Rico, recalled, “My face apparently betrayed my fear and confusion to an elderly aunt who was secretly thought to be a witch. Tia Mercedes turned to me with her soft face and wise eyes and whispered, ‘when your tongue is silent only then can you hear.’”

Camille said, “My Tia was telling me that something else was going on here and if I didn’t get caught up in the noise then maybe I could understand and make sense of the chaos and it would be less frightening and I would not feel so powerless.” And so this powerful bit of homespun advice became a life lesson for her in her work as a social worker and, I think, a powerful insight for all of us.

https://longislandweekly.com/tongue-silent-can-hear/

Andrew Malekoff is the Executive Director of North Shore Child & Family Guidance Center, which provides comprehensive mental health services for children from birth through 24 and their families. To find out more, visit www.northshorechildguidance.org.

POST-ELECTION, IT'S TIME TO OPEN DIALOGUE WITH YOUNG PEOPLE

If you are a sentient being you’re well aware of the alarming degree of divisiveness that has been generated as a result of the presidential campaign. Given the growing incidence of hateful speech and action, there is a desperate need for open dialogue with young people.

I can vividly recall meeting with a therapy group for troubled teens some 25 years ago. They raised the subject of race and racism after having been exposed repeatedly to the videotaped TV footage of the Rodney King beating, which foreshadowed the current era of cell phone videos and body cams.

Rodney King was an African-American man who became widely known after being beaten by Los Angeles police officers after a high-speed car chase on March 3, 1991. A local resident witnessed the beating and videotaped it from his nearby apartment. The officers were tried in court but were found not guilty.

The two minority members of the group spoke about their own fear and “paranoia.” I listened and then told them “just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get you.”

In 1968, psychiatrists William Greir and Price Cobbs noted in their book Black Rage that, for some people, a suspiciousness of one’s environment is necessary for survival.

Indeed, the phenomenon of adaptive paranoia—which recognizes real threats, not imaginary ones—is not at all uncommon to minority groups who have experienced profound prejudice historically and who now, after the brutal 2016 campaign, are more concerned than ever.

Here’s what we know for sure: Reports of hateful intimidation and harassment are on the rise since the election.  According to the Southern Poverty Law Center, there were more than 850 accounts of racism, Islamophobia and xenophobia between November 9 and the morning of November 14. 

Recently, I posed these questions on social media: What is the emotional impact of the trickle-down divisive campaign rhetoric on the nation's children? What signs are you seeing? What can you do? Here are two responses:

“Hispanic students are afraid to go to school because classmates bully them and tell them they are being deported.”

“Immigrant children are terrified! They are afraid their parents are going to be sent away. I think it is important to allow a space for dialogue.”

Now, more than ever, rather than squash discussion on these sensitive matters, we owe it to the young people in our lives to foster open dialogue. Noted family therapist Harry Aponte’s reflection on diversity might serve us well as a guideline. He said,

“Diversity is not about us-versus-them. And neither is it about easy agreement among different cultural, ethnic and racial groups… It is a bold, rich and complex tapestry. It has to do with being different in values, traditions and speech, and the same in human need, suffering and love. It has to do with living in separate neighborhoods, and together in the larger common community of nation. Diversity of culture, ethnicity and race gets its significance and specialness in the context of our universal identification as human beings.”

Although a better understanding and respect for cultural differences is important, we owe it to our children to reach for commonalties experienced across cultures. That is the way we will open new pathways for connection.

https://longislandweekly.com/post-election-time-have-open-dialogue-young-people/

Bio: Andrew Malekoff is the Executive Director of North Shore Child & Family Guidance Center, which provides comprehensive mental health services for children from birth through 24 and their families. To find out more, visit www.northshorechildguidance.org or find them on Facebook.

SPRINGSTEEN SPEAKS OUT AGAINST STIGMA

I recently read rock star Bruce Springsteen’s 2016 autobiography Born to Run. I have to admit: I started the book a virtual stranger. Of course I was familiar with Springsteen’s music, but mostly as background. I wasn’t a faithful fan. My only obscure connection is that I attended junior high and high school in South Orange and Maplewood, NJ with his drummer Max Weinberg.

Max and I weren't close friends but, I would say, friendly acquaintances. I remember him telling me one day in the early 1960s that he was going to be playing drums on a UHF television show hosted by John Zacherle. On the night of the broadcast, I set up the UHF antenna on my parent's black-and-white TV and was proud to see someone I personally knew performing on the tube. It was almost as exciting as the build up to the Beatles on Ed Sullivan.

Although I had no intention of reading Springsteen’s book, I decided to pick it up on the recommendation of a friend who knew I worked in the field of children’s mental health. At the same time I read the book, I turned my dial to E Street radio to add a sound track to my reading experience. By listening to the music I thought I could better get to know the author, who wrote extensively about his personal life in his songs.

Born to Run blends many elements of Springsteen’s life, from early family experiences to first steps as a musician to forming a band to becoming a rock star, husband and parent—and much more. But the core of the book is the enduring and troubling impact of his relationship with his father Doug. Near the end of Born to Run, Springsteen reveals a dream in which he is performing on stage. His then deceased father is sitting in the audience. Bruce approaches him in the dream and says: "Look dad...that guy on stage...that's you, that's how I see you." You’ll have to read the book to have a more complete understanding what the dream represents.

As I worked my way through the book and his music, I was struck with the overwhelming feeling that it was written in its entirety in the voice of vulnerable young boy, as opposed to world-renowned rock icon. The boy has been fighting the isolation and loneliness of living with mental illness in the family his whole life and, at the same time, he has been seeking enduring and healthy relationships. And, he found them.

As much as it is a book about rising to music stardom, Born to Run is a story about debilitating depression, mental illness and adverse childhood experiences. But it’s also a story of hope. Springsteen shows that despite his most troubling childhood experiences, resilience and healing are possible. Readers owe him a debt of gratitude, not only for the decades of socially conscious and uplifting music, but for stepping beyond stigma to, in his own words, “show the reader his mind.”

I started the book a stranger; now I'm a fan.

https://longislandweekly.com/springsteen-speaks-stigma/

Andrew Malekoff is the Executive Director of North Shore Child & Family Guidance Center, which provides comprehensive mental health services for children from birth through 24 and their families. To find out more, visit www.northshorechildguidance.org.