Jo Mathis

I attended an open house at The Health & Fitness Center at Washtenaw Community College not because I wanted to work out, but because I’d heard it was the most fantastic rec center in the entire world.

I learned two things that day: It really is the most fantastic rec center in the world. And working out can indeed be that joyful, endorphin-releasing high I’ve heard about but rarely experienced.

I felt strong. I felt pampered. I wanted to sell my house and move closer to WCC so I could work out every morning and live happily ever after.

At the very least, I hoped a bit of that excitement would carry over long enough to pump up the at-home workouts. Didn’t happen. Not even a little. I have an elliptical machine in my office next to a window facing a TV. I have no excuse other than this: I don’t wanna.

Can anyone else relate? It’s two months into the new year. How’s that work-out resolution working out?

If your motivation was to lose weight and become healthier, odds are, it’s not.

Health and Weight Loss: Not Compelling Reasons

Those who exercise for the health and weight-loss benefits are less likely to keep at it than those who do so for more immediate tangible benefits, says Dr. Michelle Segar, a motivation psychologist at the University of Michigan.

Health may be a motivator for retirees who have plenty of free time to exercise, but for those with busier schedules, “improve health via exercise” will not be high on a lengthy to-do list.

There’s a difference between what’s important and what’s compelling. “Because we’re so busy, we only fit things in our lives that are compelling,” Segar says. “I think there’s been a huge marketing faux pax by the fitness industry and health care, who’ve made an assumption that because exercise is good for your health, that’s a good reason to motivate people to exercise. But my research and experience coaching individuals has led me to believe that this is a harmful assumption and undermines individuals from sustaining physically active lives.”

Michelle Segar

Weight loss isn’t a good motivator, either. Not for the long haul, anyhow. People are very motivated to exercise by the thought of exercise – for a week or two. And then it wanes until the next upcoming wedding or beach party.

“Exercising is trumped by dietary changes in producing weight loss, so you’re not going to get great feedback that you’re losing weight from exercise,” Segar said. “Weight loss absolutely gets people to start exercising – again, and again, and again, and again.”

Even the word “exercise” brings to mind negative feelings, beliefs and images, which is why Segar prefers the word “movement.”

Instead of telling yourself you should exercise 30 minutes because it will make you healthier and help you lose weight, Segar says, you could decide to move your body because it enhances the quality of daily life – whether that’s by improving your mood, decreasing stress, enhancing well-being, or offering a chance to socialize.

What Makes It Compelling: Happiness

As a result of moving your body regularly, you’ll notice how much better you feel, said Segar. And that translates into the bottom-line thing we’re all seeking: Happiness.

And once you start to feel happier from moving your body more, you notice the difference when you stop. You feel more stressed. You feel a little bit down. You don’t sleep as well.

“We have to completely reframe why we’re exercising to get a different downstream result,” says Segar. “And once we do that, we’ll have a completely different experience. We’ll discover that physical activity really becomes a gift we want to give ourselves instead of a chore to accomplish.”

She prefers being outdoors to using home exercise equipment. But for those of us who like to use it, she suggests that instead of saying, “I’m going to force myself to get on the elliptical and work hard for 30 minutes,” I should say, “I’m going to give myself the gift of movement for 5 minutes.”

Maybe 5 will lead to 10 which could lead to 30. Maybe not.

“But if you don’t like it and you’re not going to do it, you’re getting no benefit,” she says. “So some is better than nothing. With our crazy lives, we have to consider that that’s a better message for people.”

“We’ve been socialized for 25 or 30 years that more is better, bigger is better, intense is better. But most people a) don’t like to exercise intensely for the most part, and b) can’t fit chunks of 30 to 60 minutes into their daily lives. If that’s the case, then we’re going to get a population of people who don’t exercise. Which of course is what we have.”

Michelle Segar doing crunches at the Ann Arbor YMCA this week.

Segar says she intends to move her body on most days. Walking is her favorite, and if she misses a few days in a row, she doesn’t beat herself up about it. And she lifts weights, mindful to prevent injury. Segar loves working out – excuse me, moving – at the Ann Arbor YMCA once or twice a week.

“Social support and a sense of community are extra perks of being physically active with others, so seeing people that I like and know adds to the whole experience for me,” she says.

“The best motivation is to notice how you feel, how your daily life changes from moving. Remind yourself that ‘Moving more improves my day.’ Once people notice how much better they feel, that kind of mantra should be very helpful.”

Maybe I’m just a sucker for a good mantra, but it’s already working for me. Occasionally throughout the day now, I’ll get on the elliptical – or pull out those weights – and get on with it. I remind myself that the ability and freedom to move is a privilege not to be squandered. A path to contentment – a gift we give ourselves.

About the author: Jo Mathis is an Ann Arbor-based writer.

Jo Mathis, proving that she did, indeed, bake a successful pineapple upside down cake.

I would lie there, waiting for a reason to start the day.

And then I’d think: Dinner!

It might have been 8 in the morning, but by gosh my nice new husband would have a spectacular meal waiting for him by the time he got home from work.

Cooking was a new challenge for a girl who’d gone through college eating catsup-drenched spaghetti and buttered rice straight from the pot.

I’d happily plan the menu from my new Betty Crocker’s Cookbook (now tattered and splattered and too precious to pitch). I’d go to the grocery store a mile away and carefully select the ingredients for that night’s feast. With plenty of time to indulge my inner Suzy Homemaker, I created color-coordinated, well balanced dinners – complete with salad, bread, dessert, and garnishes (!) – which I served cheerfully in that tiny candlelit kitchen.

Oh, how I loved to cook.

Then I got a job. And then I got pregnant and had a baby –  every three years. And somewhere along the way, I lost the joy of cooking. Special events, sure. Thanksgiving dinner, lasagna for company, spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread on a cold Sunday night? Fine. But the daily dinner became something I did because it had to be done.

Luckily, as I lost interest in cooking, my husband discovered he loves it and is far better at it. So we’ve been eating well all these years, even as I’ve harbored a tinge of envy at his passion and talent for cooking, as well as some guilt for being a slacker at the stove.

But for Baking

I never did, however, lose my love of baking – cookies, cakes, bread, or anything that can be concocted at my leisure and preferably leaves a bowl to lick. But baking leads to baked goods – which are full of fat, flour, sugar, and calories, and often get stale before they’re consumed. So except for bread – which after all is legitimate food – I actually must try not to bake.

Except on Thanksgiving, when I go nuts with the desserts. It’s not only OK, it’s expected. Demanded. Un-American not to. This year, just for kicks, I decided to add pineapple upside down cake to the obligatory selection of pies. When it was time to flip the iron skillet upside down and plop that pineapple cake onto a serving platter, I had low expectations. Surely half of it would stick to the pan. Surely everyone would laugh (“Typical Mom!”) as I quickly pieced it back together and hid the cracks with squirts of Reddi-wip.

But when I flipped that baby over, oh my gosh. It looked just like the picture.

Remembering Leads to Decembering

And that’s when I experienced a Remembrance of Things Past moment. Just as Proust was filled with unexpected familiar pleasure while taking a sip of tea with madeleine crumbs, I recalled the long-ago popovers that had turned out golden and sculpted and weirdly hollow inside because that’s apparently what perfect popovers do.

And that’s when I decided that December would be the month I Try Harder in the Kitchen. I will rekindle my love of preparing good food. In December, I will be – by any normal person’s account – a really good cook every day.

I decided to make it a full month because it supposedly takes about three weeks to form a good habit. And because I tend to leave good intentions in the dust as I flit to the next thing. And because come mid-December, my empty nest will be replenished with the college kids home for the holidays and ready to be spoiled.

I have a few goals: Homemade mayonnaise, because it is supposedly worth the trouble. A better presentation. (No jars on the table.) Candles every night. Fondue one night, sushi another, and by the end of the month: an entire meal of German dishes I can neither spell nor pronounce.

Blogger Julie Powell spent a year tackling every recipe in Julia Child’s “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” and made a gabillion dollars when it became a book and then a movie.

Why didn’t I think of that? I ask, eight years too late. Ah, well. Taking her lead, I decided to concentrate on one of my many neglected cookbooks this month.

I considered Marta Sgubin’s “Cooking for Madam: Recipes and Reminiscences from the Home of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis.” But I realized that just like Madam Onassis herself, the contents – Mousseline Sauce, Truffle Soup, Coeur A La Crème – are too high class for my humble table. And budget.

Because I need to see what I’m getting into, I rejected every cookbook sans pictures.

I ended up choosing two books – one because the photos made me drool, and the other because I had successfully used it back in the day.

Mac & Cheese, Naomi Judd’s Way

In “Naomi’s Home Companion,” Naomi Judd shares little secrets such as the fact that her mom’s potato salad is unsurpassed because she marinates the warm potatoes in French dressing before adding the other ingredients.

When she writes that if she were alone on a desert island, the one dish she’d want is her Macaroni and Cheese Casserole, how could I resist? Especially when I have yet to meet a mac and cheese recipe I don’t love.

Here’s how Naomi’s favorite version goes:

Boil 8 ounces of macaroni.

Meanwhile, melt ½ cup butter. Whisk in ¼ cup flour to make a paste. Then add 2 cups of milk and simmer over low heat, stirring until thickened, or about a minute. Add 6 ounces of sharp cheddar cheese (or Velveeta, she says, but this is Ann Arbor!) and salt and pepper to taste. Stir the cooked, drained macaroni into the cheese sauce. Bake at 350 for 20 minutes, adding some more shredded cheddar on top for the last 5 minutes.

Cosmo Cookery

The second cookbook I am studying this month is “Cosmo Cookery,” which I found on a basement shelf and greeted like a long lost friend. Most things Cosmo are ticky-tacky. But this romantic little book – subtitled “Gourmet Meals from the First Drink to the Last Kiss” – includes some excellent, simple (oh, how I love that adjective) recipes for 2 to 4 people.

It may also get me to start drinking more, because all menu suggestions include booze. Brunch Number 1, for instance, calls for a gin-based Silver Fizz with that Quiche Lorraine. I don’t even like gin, and I’m thinking there’s a Silver Fizz in my future.

Thirty years ago, I picked up some great recipes in this old book, including Fillet of Sole Florentine, which I know by heart and tastes great every time.

Dip 4 medium sole fillets in seasoned flour and sauté until golden. Meanwhile, prepare a box of frozen spinach, drain well, spread in a baking dish and season lightly with nutmeg, salt and pepper. (The book calls for adding 2 T dry white wine, which I only do if I’m going to drink the rest of the wine with the meal.) Place fillets on top of spinach. Spread mayonnaise evenly over the fish. Sprinkle with grated cheddar cheese and place under the broiler until glazed.

Inspiration Close to Home

One of the best cooks I know is Susan Cooley, who has created the most luscious food in her tiny Ann Arbor kitchen. Inspired by memories of cooking with her grandmother, she says she really started to enjoy cooking when she got her kids to jump in and help.

“Beside the fact that they learn so much, measuring, being creative, trying new things are all part of what makes cooking so interesting,” she says. “Not to mention the very satisfied customers.”

She became a master of quick meals when she went back to work, and decided each child would be responsible for one meal a week. Hannah perfected a hamburger-with-tomato sauce meal, in which she fries up some hamburger in a pan, pours a small can of tomato sauce over it, adds Italian seasoning to taste, and serves with boiled noodles and a salad.

Susan loves nothing more in the winter than gathering leftovers for a big pot of soup. Here’s one of her favorites, which she adapted from a Food Network recipe:

Curried Butternut Squash Soup (Serves 6)

3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil or vegetable oil

1 cup chopped onions

4 cloves garlic, minced

1 tablespoon curry powder (Susan uses Patak’s Hot Curry Paste instead)

1 teaspoon ground cumin

Red (cayenne) pepper to taste

2 ½ pounds butternut squash, peeled, seeded, halved lengthwise, and sliced thin

3 cups vegetable or chicken broth

3 cups water

1 pound tart apples, peeled, cored, and chopped

Salt and pepper to taste

In a large soup pot over medium heat, heat olive or vegetable oil. Add onion and sauté until golden brown. Add garlic, curry powder, cumin, and cayenne pepper; cook, stirring constantly, 30 seconds. Add squash, vegetable or chicken broth, water, and apples. Bring liquid just to a boil; reduce heat to low and simmer, covered, 25 minutes or until squash is tender. Remove from heat and let cool 15 to 20 minutes.

Puree mixture in a blender or food processor, in batches, and transfer back into soup pot. Season with salt and pepper to taste. NOTE: At this point, soup may be refrigerated until ready to serve.

Getting Upside Down With Pineapples

Finally, here’s my recipe for that pineapple upside down cake. It’s no better than any other pineapple upside down cake (which means it is pretty great), but it’s quick and easy. And it flips out of the frying pan pretty perfectly.

Pineapple Upside Down Cake

1. Whip up a box of pineapple cake mix.

2. Melt half stick of butter in a 10-inch frying pan; remove from heat.

3. Arrange pineapple slices in the pan, and stick a cherry in the center of each ring. Sprinkle some pecans here and there. (My family sadly requested no nuts. Your choice.)

4. Dump the cake batter on top.

5. Bake in a 350 degree oven for about 40 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean.

6. Turn the skillet upside down and serve warm if possible, with whipped cream.

Jo Mathis

At the sobering close of the Michigan-Michigan State game, I turned to walk out of the stadium.

“I’m sorry I was cheering so loud,” said the friendly Michigan State fan behind me.

“No problem,” I said. “I found some earplugs in my pocket.”

I then pulled back my hair and revealed the Jujyfruits candy I’d brought with me to nibble on, but decided instead to use as noise-blockers. They were pliable and non-sticky – much better than real ear plugs. In fact, I spent much of the fourth quarter wondering why the good folks at Jujyfruits don’t promote this idea.

“Quirky,” said me husband, using the word my family frequently dubs my common sense solutions to life’s little challenges.

We all think we know best, and that our way is the best way. But I insist there is always more than one right way to do anything.

“By-the-bookers” are orderly, sensible, clear-thinking people. You want such a person in charge of the school’s fall festival, your taxes, your hip replacement.

I just wish some of these straight-shooters had a little more tolerance for those of us who sometimes think outside the box.

My mother-in-law was a classic by-the-booker. I admired the orderly way she ran the house; and how there was a place for everything, and everything was in it. She was tidy, sensible, dependable.

But you could also depend on her getting agitated at the slightest sign of wayward thought.

If I used safety pins or duct tape to repair a hem – even if it was a temporary fix – she’d flash her What are you thinking? face.

I once spooned some strawberry jam on my vanilla ice cream.

“They make strawberry ice cream topping for that.”

“Same thing, basically.”

“If they were the same thing, they wouldn’t make two different products.”

I reminded her that just as there are many multi-tasking products on the market, there are products still to be discovered. But who’s going to come up with them if we’re all thinking alike?

A creative woman I know says she never takes the first idea that pops in her head because a better idea is always right behind it. If she’s going to design a new T-shirt, she automatically rejects her first image because it’s likely based on something she’s already seen, which means it may not be as original as the next idea.

“Even when I want to do something for a friend, I reject the first notion because that one’s usually what I’d want someone to do for me,” she said. “If I really put some thought into what that particularly person could use right now, I’ll come up with an idea far more fitting.”

Back in 1927, studio executive Harry Warner of Warner Brothers balked at the idea of including sound in his movies.

“Who the hell wants to hear actors talk?” he asked.

Warner eventually opened his mind to the quirky idea of actors actually talking, a move his heirs surely appreciate to this day.

True non-conformists (a group to which I sadly but surely do not belong) seem to flock to either coast.

My brother is a musician/artist/bus driver who has never had a full-time job in his life, and is living happily ever after with his wife and daughter in a flat in San Francisco where he picks lemons from his window and steps over the drunks on his front steps. He gets a kick out of everything. His stories are hilarious. His friends are weirdos. One of the guests at his wedding (in a nightclub) was an Elvis impersonator who came in costume.

My brother couldn’t do the Midwest/mortgage/9-5 thing if his life depended on it. Which, of course, it does.

A good question to ask is: “Why not?”

If I could have my way on this one, I would remove all the furniture from our family room. Instead of couches, chairs and end tables, the room would feature a poker table, a bumper pool table, and a ping pong table. If I could find an old pinball machine that actually works, I’d have one of those, too. We’d have so much fun in that room.

But no, no, no. Such a plan is far too quirky.

So we sit.

That reminds me of the time I was waiting for a flight out of Detroit and there were no seats in the waiting area. When I noticed the shoeshine chair was unoccupied, I climbed up and onto it. (Why not?)

The view was great from up there. In fact, I was able to spot someone I recognized. I called out to her, she came over, and that’s when I learned that she was flying to Florida just for the day. And not on business.

Pat explained that the only way she can survive a Michigan winter is to get a day of sunshine every few weeks. So several times each winter, she books the earliest flight out of Metro to somewhere sunny – usually Fort Lauderdale or Phoenix. Once there, she takes a cab to a hotel, changes into something summery in the restroom, and sits on or near the beach til it’s time to take the last flight of the day back to DTW.

The ticket is a bit expensive. But she doesn’t have to pack, or check luggage, or pay for a hotel.

My grandmother was a by-the-booker who behaved as you would expect a woman her age to behave. Her older sister did what she wanted and had a lot more fun.

When I was about 13, Great Aunt Cora asked me if I’d gotten my ears pierced yet. I told her I didn’t want holes in my ears.

She then showed off the earrings dangling from her newly pierced ears.

“For the first time in my life, my earrings don’t hurt,” she said. “You better get with it, kid.”

Out-cooled by a septuagenarian. Ouch.

I eventually did pierce my ears, and it was a good – if insignificant – decision. More importantly, I learned not to so quickly reject what could be a very interesting idea.

After all: Why not?

About the author: Jo Mathis is an Ann Arbor-based writer. Her columns appear monthly in The Chronicle.

Jo Mathis

You wouldn’t know it by looking in my closet or my basement or any other part of my house for that matter. But I am a minimalist at heart.

Yes, just give me the simple life.

That’s why I found myself nodding to this list of 21 things Americans are learning to live without by Rick Newman of U.S. News and World.

A good little mantra: Who needs it?

When he was 80, French poet Paul Claudel wrote: “No eyes left, no ears, no teeth, no legs, no wind. And how astonishingly well one does without them.” I’m keeping all the body parts I can, thank you very much. But as for superfluous stuff: Buh-bye.

Purging is suddenly more thrilling than accumulating. In fact, whenever anyone comes to the house now, I feel bad if they don’t leave with a parting gift: A popcorn maker. A box of sweaters. A couch.

A little deprivation can be a good thing.

I let my rec center membership lapse partly to save money, partly because I was so grossed out by sweaty people dripping all over the equipment, and partly because I hated that nagging, daily dilemma of whether or not to go to the rec center.

Now when I drive by and see the tops of those heads bouncing up and down, I’m so happy not to be among them, I could weep. I lift weights at home and get out and walk fast in the fresh air. For me, for now, this works.

In a bad economy, you become more creative. And in the process, you discover low-cost or free substitutes that at the very least are more memorable.

We recently needed a place to stay overnight in west Michigan, so I booked a spot in a lovely place with a waterside view. It was quiet and spacious and $24.

It was a campsite in the woods.

And it was perfect. We got there after dark, pitched the tent, slept fine, got up the next morning, took down the tent, and took off. No bed bugs for us, thank you very much.

A hotel room is one thing. But I still can’t join those who’ve killed their TV.

Too sorely would I miss:

1. Michigan football

I admit it. I have a big ol’ crush on quarterback Denard Robinson. Not only is he an outstanding athlete who is thrilling to watch, but who’s not smitten by that smile? Here’s hoping he has a late growth spurt so he goes to the pros and we can follow his career for years where – fingers crossed – he never loses that certain sumpin.

2. Bravo’s The Rachel Zoe Project

I die for Rachel Zoe, the scrawny, hyperactive celebrity stylist who totters around in seven-inch heels worrying about what little number Demi should wear on the red carpet.

She is precisely the type of woman I can’t stand. And yet I love her so much, I can’t quit.

I do a fine Rachel Zoe impression, but I’d need an ensemble to compete with this one.

3. Oprah Winfrey when she gets a smack-down

Even Oprah must have felt like a peon when Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg announced a $100,000,000 donation to Newark public schools.

After all, when Oprah basks in the glory of her own so-called gifts, she doesn’t even pick up the tab. Oh, she loved telling her 300-member audience that they were GOING TO AUSTRALIA! You! And you! And you! And you!

What she failed to say was that those trips are being paid by the Australian Tourist Board, which means those taxpayers down under will end up with the $2.3 million bill.

For 25 years, Oprah – who earns $315 million a year from her talk show alone – has been informative, entertaining, good for water fountain fodder. I just wish she’d stop trying to come off as benevolent, too.

4. Dancing with the Stars* (*AKA: Who?)

This one wasn’t on my watch list til now. After all, if I wanted to watch people dancing, I’d just watch the incredible Glee, where they also sing and act and make me wonder how they can create such an amazing show in one week when it took many months to make, say, Gigli.

Then Bristol Palin joined the show, and doggone it, I had to tune in. Now I’m hooked. It’s not just a dance show. It’s high-stepping drama.

Furthermore:

• Michael Bolton may think that his poor dancing skills – and Bruno-the-bully’s score of “Three!” – got him kicked off the show. Wrong. That was America’s payback for that long hideous mullet all those years.
• David Hasselhoff got the boot just for being David Hasselhoff.
• How can there not be a single dance pro of color? (For that matter, why are two of three judges on America’s Got Talent British?)
• Female dancers in heels should be paid twice as much as males in flats. Besides, when the women are dressed like that, nobody’s even looking at the guys.
• How can you not think of Ann Arbor when the announcer keeps asking for a score from Carrie Ann Inaba?

5. The Office

This show makes me very happy.

The season opener made me giddy.

I used to think the best job in the world belonged to Kelly Ripa, who makes a ton of money for sitting next to Regis and being cute and funny for an hour every weekday morning. But now I think the best job belongs to Phyllis Smith, who plays Phyllis on The Office.

Not only does she get to hang out all day with comic geniuses, but she looks like 30% of middle-aged American women, so she can still shop at Target without being bothered.

By the way: Once upon a time, Phyllis Smith was a professional ballet dancer and St. Louis Cardinal cheerleader.

About the author: Jo Mathis is an Ann Arbor-based writer. Her columns appear monthly in The Chronicle.

Jo Mathis using Skype, a video chat application.

In any case, Tori installed a webcam and Skype on my computer so that we can have regular video chats.

This wouldn’t have occurred to me. Though Skype has been around for seven years, my experience with it was mostly spotty audio conference calls that were more irritating than anything.

“Trust me,” Tori said as she clipped the webcam to my monitor. “You’ll love this.”

When we dropped her off at her dorm on Monday, I was once again reminded of one of the best years of my life. (Freedom! Boys! All-you-can eat ice cream!) I hated to leave – not just because we’re very close and I enjoy her company, but because nothing makes a mother happier than seeing her child happy. And I knew she was about to have the time of her life.

That’s why Skype pretty much rocks my world.

No, it’s not quite the same as being in the same room. We won’t be able to push each other around laughing, “I keel you!” or hang out on the couch watching Kathy Griffin.

But it’s close.

Texts and calls and pictures are great. Actually seeing my daughter as we talk is much better. We video chatted once while she was at the student center, where her friends were on either side of the table, and guys were shooting pool behind her. Usually she’s sitting at her desk below her Lil Wayne poster, applying or removing her makeup.

I am unabashedly in love with this application, and encourage anyone else with distant loved ones to try it.

For no charge, Skype offers the ability to make voice or video calls and send instant messages to other Skype users. You can also pay for services such as making calls from a PC to a landline or cell phone, which is why some users are giving up their more costly landlines for Skype accounts.

Thanks to Skype and all the other video chat programs, including gmail voice and video chat, children and spouses of U.S. soldiers stationed overseas can actually see each other when they talk once or twice a week. Grandparents hundreds of miles away can video chat between visits.

Fewer people need to fly across the country to get to a meeting. Teachers use it in the classrooms to interview guest speakers, and connect to other students around the world.

Kan Shao, a grad student at Eastern Michigan University, uses QQ to video chat with his family in China two or three times a week.

“Video chat lets me confirm that my father is in good condition,” he said. “Seeing his face makes me feel safe.”

I read about a family who keeps an eye on their elderly father by keeping the man’s computer turned on to Skype. If he’s in trouble, they’ll know about it. Meanwhile, he feels less isolated.

Oprah Winfrey is a huge Skype supporter who likes to spread money around. Wouldn’t it be great if she made video chats available to nursing homes and assisted living centers, and encouraged volunteers to check in on them via Skype? It’s certainly a more important use of it than featuring yet another guest via Skype – especially when there are so many real live guests in the audience eager to talk.

After all, just because something can be done doesn’t mean there’s a good reason to do it.

Most people now prefer texting over calling, and several people I talked to said they don’t want anyone seeing them in the privacy of their home. (“The horror!”) I can’t imagine video chatting with someone I don’t know fairly well, and feel no need to use it to talk to people I see regularly.

But I would like to get my three out-of-state brothers on Skype so we can stay more closely in touch. Facebook helps, but can’t compare to the immediacy of a video chat.

Here are 25 other ways to use Skype, some of which I intend to try as soon as I finish clearing a corner of Tori’s room for my yoga studio.

An empty nest has its perks.

For the pits, there is Skype.

About the author: Jo Mathis is an Ann Arbor-based writer. Her columns appear monthly in The Chronicle.

Jo Mathis

[Editor's note: Jo Mathis was a columnist and reporter for The Ann Arbor News until it closed in July 2009.]

Many factors led to the shutdown of The Ann Arbor News one year ago, and most begin with a capital I.

Because of the Internet, Google became a verb that allowed instant, round-the-clock information, much of which was provided free of charge by newspapers that nonetheless expected people to continue paying for the print version.

Because of the Internet, there are endless ways to fill free time, which meant the daily newspaper became less and less a necessary part of people’s routine.

Because of the Internet, advertisers – by far our main source of income – could reach more targeted audiences at a much lower cost. (A snippy subscriber once said the only reason she got the paper was for the Meijer ads. I wanted to ask, “Haven’t you heard of meijer.com?”)

And because of the Internet, a nerd named Craig Newmark was able to start a little thing called Craigslist, which put a deadly dagger into classified sections everywhere.

Craigslist was the reason The Ann Arbor News paid more to run a classified advertising department than it took in on classified ads, and one of the reasons that a once healthy newspaper began to look eerily anorexic as the few of us left ran around trying to figure out what else we could do to save it.

When I worked at The News, Craigslist was the enemy. Though Newmark blames the fall on greedy newspaper chains demanding high profit margins, Craigslist was one of the big reasons we were in a downward spiral and the mood in the newsroom mimicked the sad shade of blue on the walls.

Craigslist was the devil.

I secretly thought Craigslist was a great grassrootsy idea, and that classified advertisements were far too expensive. But I am nothing if not loyal to my employer, so Craigslist was on my diss list.

Now that I am free from the flailing industry – and all the stress of worrying about its demise – I am free to love Craigslist.

I love the way Craigslist is open to everybody with computer access at no charge. I love how it meets people’s needs for jobs and rides and housing and drapes, and how it offers a glimmer of hope to the lovestruck woman wondering about the cute guy wearing a green shirt at Whole Foods.

I love how it’s good for some giggles.

And I appreciate that Craig Newmark is a philanthropist who lives his values and is actually helping make sure that investigative journalism thrives. (Maybe he’ll write a big ol’ check to The Ann Arbor Chronicle, another site that was once upon a time The Enemy.)

Craigslist makes room for stuff that was never found in the classifieds, which means there’s something for everyone.

Denice Jones of Saline Township doesn’t own a car, so she’s currently running an ad for someone to drive her to the laundromat or grocery store. So far, she’s gotten only one response that didn’t work out. But Craigslist has helped her find work; her daughter, a place to live; and her brother, some chickens.

“I just like how it’s all free,” she said.

Like a bottle of Kaopectate, you may not use Craigslist on a regular basis. But it’s good to know it’s there when you need it.

Derek Duncan of Tucson hopes to move to Ann Arbor, and is smart enough to realize what could happen when he gets here. He could be lonely. He could wake up not knowing a single person and ache with mover’s remorse.

So he wrote an ad on Craigslist seeking friends.

“I placed the ad because I have always dreamed of moving to Michigan,” he told me via e-mail, noting that his dad is a University of Michigan graduate and he’s always dreamed of becoming a Wolverine himself. “I’m dead set on moving up there. I thought it would be a good idea to try and make some friends as extra motivation.”

He’s saving money for the big move to the state he finds so beautiful – from the fall colors to the ocean-like lakes, to the throw-back feeling of Mackinac Island.

“My friends think it’s pretty weird that Michigan has always been a type of Utopia to me,” he wrote. “They can’t see past the images portrayed in the media because they have never been there.”

Michigan needs people like Derek Duncan, so I hope he makes it here. And when he does, I hope he finds new friends, a nice apartment, fulfilling work, the love of his life – and his cat, if it runs away.

Here’s to Derek and the connections he’ll make on Craigslist Ann Arbor. May those encounters be productive for all.

About the author: Jo Mathis is an Ann Arbor-based writer. Her columns appear monthly in The Chronicle.

Jo Mathis

If I had thought about my brother yesterday, I might have pictured him walking home from work, or barbecuing in his backyard in Colorado, or standing there with that familiar smirk, ready to spew some sarcasm.

But most likely I didn’t think about him at all. Yesterday – as far as I knew – all was right in his world.

The news was delivered with one fast pitch. There was no “I’m not feeling well” one week followed by “I’m going in for tests” the next, before moving on to “They think it might be bad news; I’ll know in a few days.”

Just: Prostate cancer. Stage 4. Nothing they can do.

“We’re all going to die,” he said. “It’s just a matter of when.”

His matter-of-fact tone helped settle my racing heart. Yeah, I agreed. We’re all going to die sometime of something. But who would have thought my brother – the oldest of us seven kids – might die before our mother?

He almost took very good care of himself; almost followed all of the Mayo Clinic’s seven steps to reduce your risk of cancer. He was an active, non-smoking guy who kept his weight down. But he didn’t like going to the doctor and hadn’t had a physical in years. It was only two months ago when it hurt to walk that he went for a check-up. What he figured was arthritis was prostate cancer that had spread to his bones, ribs, and pelvis.

Nobody deserves cancer, and often there is little anyone can do no matter what. Still, we hope this is a lesson for our brothers and friends and all those who postpone doctor visits. Go anyhow.

A prostate checkup could have caught the cancer in its earliest stage and treated it. The same test taken to reveal a soaring PSA level could have prolonged his life if taken before it was too late.

Doctors won’t estimate how much time he has left. About one in three patients with advanced prostate cancer will live for more than five years after the diagnosis. On average, patients with metastatic prostate cancer may see some response to treatment for about 15 months, with the average survival after that about two years.

About one in six men will be diagnosed with prostate cancer, which is the second leading cause of cancer death in American men, behind lung cancer.

The painkillers make my brother feel lethargic, and we can’t help but wonder: How much time does he have? How bad will this get?

“I’ve accepted it,” said my brother, who is 62. “I’m just taking it one day at a time.”

You know how it is with siblings. Get them together, and they all fall into their role. Jokester. Scatterbrain. The quiet one. My brother has been the quintessential oldest child: bossy and forever worried about the rest of us.

Now it’s our turn to do what little we can for him. We’re all calling more often, looking into tickets to Denver, forgiving petty old grievances. I tell him about a New York Times blog written by a man diagnosed with stage 3 prostate cancer two years ago, and wonder if he can somehow connect with others in Boulder going through the same thing.

I think back on his life, and all the things he worried about, from the trivial to the life-changing biggies. “Vanity, vanity. All is vanity.” Very little of it matters now. The ups and downs of the stock market? Yawn. Those pesky daily annoyances? What difference did they make?

Richard Carlson, author of “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff,” died without warning of a pulmonary embolism at the age of 45. I hope he lived what he wrote and actually focused on the big stuff.

News of another person’s mortality is a useful – if fleeting – wake-up call for the rest of us to live well. In some cases, it also reminds us that it’s OK to pester a loved one to go ahead and make that appointment. Better to be an annoying nag than to end up thinking: “If only …”

About the author: Jo Mathis is an Ann Arbor-based writer. Her columns appear monthly in The Chronicle.

Jo Mathis and her granddaughter, Anna Christine.

No matter how you prepare for life’s big events, you never know how you’ll feel til you’re in the moment, often seeped in disbelief that the anticipated is actually happening.

And so it was when my first child was about to give birth to her first child. As Christie rested between contractions, her doctor looked up at me with a smile and asked: “Are you a first-time grandparent?”

What tipped her off? The fact that I was standing behind Christie’s head with a camera, sobbing?

Moments later – at 10 p.m. on 5-5-10 – a gooey little alienesque creature burst onto the scene amidst our cheers, tears, and one big sigh of relief from her mother.

People had told me that grandparenting is indescribably delicious, and now I know for myself why they call it grand.

While searching for tips on how to be a superior grandparent, I came across a book titled “Totally Cool Grandparenting: A Practical Handbook of Tips, Hints, & Activities for the Modern Grandparent.”

I’m not interested in “cool.” Let her aunts and uncles corner the hip factor. I want to be wise and loving and warm and available.

Though Anna Christine is still a pound smaller than my four babies were at birth, I picture us sipping tea in floppy hats, visiting the library, reading “Charlotte’s Web.” I’m digging out the kids’ activity books I was too busy to finish as a mother, and filling a shelf with a few select toys and books snagged at Saturday morning garage sales.

And because I’m eager for tips, I’m asking anyone willing to talk: What did you love most about your grandparents?

My daughter Lexie’s Texan boyfriend visited for a week recently. One night, he called his grandmother.

“Can I speak to the best grandmother in the whole world?” he asked.

“Well,” she said in her soft southern drawl. “Ah’m the only one heah!”

I later asked Sean what made her so wonderful.

“She loves me unconditionally, and always lets me know how special and unique I am,” he said. “Yet, she also expects a lot from me, and gently challenges me. She always reminded me to stand up straight, to open the door for her, to be polite when I meet people. I can’t remember her ever reprimanding me or getting upset with me, but with her amiable attitude, I never wanted to send anything but love and respect in her direction.”

Sean and his grandmother, circa 1992.

He said she’s playful, creative and positive, and always had fun right along with the grandkids, whether it was building a fort, flying a kite, or getting out the Lincoln Logs.

And it wasn’t just quality time. It was a quantity of time.

“She was present at every single sports game, every play, every awards banquet, and every graduation throughout my entire life,” he said. “She would drive half an hour to my town to pick me up to spend the night at her house, and in the summer, she would drive me all the way to Houston or Galveston to go the Museum of Natural History, the Imax, movies, amusement parks, the circus.”

“And she’s prayed for me every day since I was born.”

At that point, I realized Sean wasn’t kidding when he asked to speak to the best grandmother in the world.

I know a grandfather who has a slumber party for his grandkids every Friday night. It’s a win-win-win. The kids’ parents get a night to themselves, which presumably helps keep their marriage strong. And the first and third generations bond over food, games, stories and wasting time together.

The best babysitters are the baby’s grandparents, said humorist Dave Barry, who added: “You feel completely comfortable entrusting your baby to them for long periods, which is why most grandparents flee to Florida.”

Luckily Dave Barry already lives in Florida. Because if he ever becomes a grandpa, I have a hunch he’ll be staying put. And I have a feeling some grandparents come to realize that sunny weather is good. But a grandchild on the lap is better.

An older relative said she wouldn’t bring a child into this crazy world. People were saying that when I had kids, and my mother heard the same thing 50 years ago. When was the world not crazy? Was there ever a perfect time to have a baby?

It’s been said that life is like licking honey off a thorn. Every day, we face a mixed bag, and every day, we can help lighten the next guy’s load. And if we can help our own children so that they can enjoy parenting even more, well, why wouldn’t we?

Among primates, only humans provide for their young after weaning, writes Melvin Konner in a recent article in The Chronicle of Higher Education. “We should think of the natural human adaptation for child-rearing,” he writes, “as one in which mothers are central but have large amounts of support.”

And all the grandparents, in all their collective wisdom, shouted: Amen!

About the author: Jo Mathis is an Ann Arbor-based writer.

Jo Mathis

Since my father’s death in February, my siblings and I have been working on Project Keep Mother Busy.

This isn’t difficult, as our upbeat little mama is still interested in what’s next; still in some ways that fun-loving brunette from Staten Island. She’s good company.

The other day, while leaving a bakery, I picked up and handed her a brochure about The Housing Bureau for Seniors’ Senior Living & Housing Awareness Week May 7-16. The week is billed as a one-stop chance to gain information, resources and approaches to help make decisions for better living.

Well, you’d think I had just given her a check for a million dollars. Who knew housing was such a big deal to her? After all, she’s in good health. She lives in a condo, where she doesn’t have to worry about yardwork.

But she wants a place that offers a continuum of care, beginning with independent living and ending with nursing care, or hospice. She wonders how her health will be in a year or so, if she’d become a burden to her kids, and what she’d do if there were a medical emergency and nobody around to help.

And no offense to us, but she’d like to be around a few more people her own age.

This is why on Friday I’ll be taking my mother to the Living & Housing Expo at Washtenaw Community College, and to some open houses at senior housing communities the rest of the week.

Knowledge is power, says Justine Bykowski, housing counseling coordinator for the Housing Bureau for Seniors, which is part of the University of Michigan Health System.

Bykowski uses the term “living arrangement” rather than “housing,” because it impacts so many spheres of life.

“We’re talking about what people can afford; what people’s values and preferences are; what people’s needs might be in terms of maximizing their independence,” she said. “Your living arrangement can either undermine or support other very important facets of your life.”

Anita Lim, 75, will be at the expo. She lives with her husband, Frederick, in University Commons, a 92-unit condominium community for active adults 55 and older in Ann Arbor.

So far, so good, said Lim. But who knows what’s ahead?

“Although we do not have any immediate need (for assisted housing) right now, I am the kind of person who wants to be prepared and know what our options are,” she said. “Over the (seven) years we’ve been here, quite a few of our friends and residents have had a change in health, and had to move out.”

Right now, she has no idea what those options are, and looks forward to the expo to find out.

For those who don’t want to leave their home, of course, there are many in-home care agencies that offer companionship, personal care, and respite care for an hourly fee.

Lim has picked up several brochures for in-home care, and they all sound the same.

“How does one pick and choose?” she asked.

Twenty-one home health care providers and health services are scheduled to have exhibits at the expo.

Bykowski recently talked to a man who pays $700 a month in rent, and has an income of just more than $1,000. He didn’t realize he was eligible for help. Subsidized housing – 30% of his gross annual income adjusted by health care costs – would allow him to afford the health care options he has denied himself until now.

Some people have a certain image of subsidized housing.

“But it’s not necessarily for the very poor,” said Bykowski. “It can be someone who had a professional job, and their retirement income is modest, so that’s an option for them.”

Money is a huge issue, of course. When people are pursuing long-term care – whether in their own home, assisted living, or a nursing home – they must look at what they can afford over time so they don’t outlive their resources, Bykowski said, adding: “And the sooner you look at that, the better off you are in terms of maximizing your options and understanding the choices you have.”

Washtenaw County residents are fortunate to be able to tap into the Housing Bureau for Seniors, which specializes in helping people look at their housing and care options. It offers programs in foreclosure and eviction prevention, and home-sharing. Staff help seniors look at the big picture, so the client has a plan to move forward that will stabilize them and get them to the next step before changing health and economic conditions may require the situation be revisited.

“We talk about money as being a crucial consideration, but we want people to also have the benefit of a good quality of life, and that includes thinking of the social and emotional things that come into play in making decisions,” said Bykowski.

Senior Living & Housing Awareness Week is for people who want to move; those who’d rather “age in place” but who could benefit from learning about services to help them do that; the newly retired; and the adult children of older parents who are concerned about housing.

The week kicks off with the Living & Housing Expo on Friday, May 7 from 8:15 a.m. to 2:15 p.m. at the Morris Lawrence Building, Washtenaw Community College, 4800 E. Huron River Dr., Ann Arbor. A shuttle service will take guests from the parking lot to the front entrance of MLB.

The day includes health screenings, workshops, benefits eligibility assessments, exhibits, and more. Participants can still sign up for a variety of workshops to be held at the expo and at various sites the rest of the week by calling 734-998-9336.

Coda: A Few More Things to Consider

An Ann Arbor resident who lives in senior housing shared with me the following questions he would ask of a potential living arrangment:

1. Is the management friendly and receptive to the resident(s)?
2. What services does the complex offer, such as a physical therapy center or other types of mostly social activities?
3. Are there handicap-friendly, wheelchair accessible units? If so, can the units be modified?
4. Are pets allowed and for what price?
5. What is the security like, such as unlawful access through the front door? Have there been problems?
6. Has the residence had any problems with pests and if so, is it ongoing and being addressed?
7. What sort of subsidies – such as Section 8 and HUD – are allowed, and what is the waiting time for them?
8. Does Meals on Wheels have access?
9. How near is it to local hospitals and the individual’s clinic?
10. In case of emergency, does an ambulance have access after hours? (Sometimes access is limited until 5 p.m., he says, because no one is in the office to buzz them in.)
11. Does AATA access the housing through their Senior Good as Gold program, which gives seniors a ride in a taxi at a greatly reduced rate, and provides wheelchair-lift vans?
12. What is a particular complex’s policy about allowing additional front door keys (often electronic)? What forms are needed to be filled out, and how much does it the cost?
13. How long is the waiting time after applying?
14. What is the policy about a live-in aide or family companion?
15. What about cable service? Is it included or extra?

About the author: Jo Mathis is an Ann Arbor-based writer.

Jo Mathis

My father, the quirky, crusty, and surprisingly sentimental Don Collins, went to bed the other night and never woke up.

At 84 and in failing health, he was set to move to an assisted living facility in two weeks, never again to enjoy my mother’s cooking or daily attention. Instead, he slipped away on the sunny Thursday between my daughters’ birthdays, reluctant, it would seem, to ruin their days.

My mother, siblings and I quickly drove to St. Joe’s, where our initial grief was gradually tempered by quiet acceptance. A social worker suggested we each spend time alone in the room with him. His hand was still warm as I said goodbye.

My father had asked for cremation, which took place that night. Nine days later, after the rest of the family had flown in, we greeted friends at the church immediately before the funeral, where his tearful grandchildren and great-grandchildren placed flowers beneath the chest containing his ashes.

A brief military service honoring my father’s service in World War II was followed by lunch in the church social hall, where my mother and brothers told funny “typical Don” stories. Then some friends and all the relatives came to my house for the rest of the day.

There was no embalming, casket, or sad music in an unfamiliar funeral home. We seven Collins kids never agree on anything. But we wouldn’t have changed a thing.

There’s no one right way to handle a death, or anything else. But this felt right to us.

People facing the death of a loved one should know there are options, said Merilynn Rush of Dexter, who believes after-death care has been taken out of the realm of normal experiences.

“We’ve handed it off to undertakers,” said Rush, a consultant to families interested in after-death home care. “Whereas everyone used to take care of their loved one at home – they’d lay out the body in the front parlor and they knew what to do and were involved in it. Now people die in hospitals and the body’s taken away and cared for by someone else. That’s not the most natural way to grieve or handle it.”

It’s not for everybody, Rush is quick to say. But for some, especially those who’ve been caring for a loved one at home while they’re dying, continuing that care after they’ve died for a few hours or days seems natural.

“Funeral homes discourage public visitation without embalming for aesthetic reasons,” said Rush, a former home birth midwife. “And so caring for the body at home – as long as you’ve cleaned and cooled the body – allows out-of-town relatives to get there. They can come and say good bye in the familiar surrounding and comfort of a home, rather than having to pay for a viewing at a scheduled time.”

It also allows for more personal expression.

“You can place photos, flowers, mementos, make the atmosphere in your own home the way you want,” she said. “People can gather around and share stories, laugh or cry, share food. Kids can be around. It’s a very natural setting. Not a generic, impersonal environment of a funeral home.”

The funeral home personnel are required to sign the death certificate and transport the body to final disposition, either a cemetery or crematorium. The total cost can be as little as $700 for cremation, said Rush, comparing it to at least $8,000 for typical funeral home care involving embalming, a casket, and viewing hours.

So far, Rush has helped one local family with after-death home care.

“It was just so natural,” she recalled. “When the grandchildren came by, they were able to see the body and get it – that she had died. It wasn’t traumatic for them. They’d touch her, then they’d go out and play. It was familiar, and the family was all together.”

Sharon Bailey in her bed at her daughter's home, a few weeks before her death. Her grandsons are in the room with her. (Photos courtesy of Beth Barbeau.)

That family belonged to Sharon Bailey, 72, who died of bone cancer Nov. 2 at the Ypsilanti apartment of her daughter, Laura Bailey. Laura, along with her sister, Beth Barbeau of Dexter, had been caring for Sharon in their homes for several months.

After Sharon died, Rush gently guided Barbeau and Bailey in what steps to take next. The sisters washed their mother’s body, then applied fragrant salve and dry ice to strategic parts to help preserve it.

Over the next two days, friends came over, brought food, shared stories. Sharon’s body was in the living room, resting in the same bed she’d shared with her husband as a newlywed. The grandchildren wrote love notes which they tucked in her hands. The Threshold Singers visited, as they had before Sharon’s death.

On Thursday morning, the family finally felt ready to say goodbye.

“We looked at each other, and realized we’ll never be done grieving, but we don’t need her body to do it,” said Barbeau, a home birth midwife.

Because they didn’t want her body out of their care, they then accompanied the body to the crematorium two miles away. And stayed til the end.

A memorial was held a month later at the Webster United Church of Christ. Afterwards, friends and family gathered for a potluck at Barbeau’s natural family store, Indigo Forest in Scio Township.

The sisters agree the entire process was much more natural and healing than the death of their father eight years earlier in Illinois.

“By the time we got there, he was already at the funeral home, embalmed and naked under a sheet,” said Bailey. “It was so unnatural; so weird. It put it into perspective for me as to what I didn’t want for myself.”

Bailey said having hospice care for her mother meant home care after death was a natural progression, and she credits Rush for helping them through the grieving process, and knowing what to do, when.

“It was an amazing experience,” said Bailey, who works as a doula. “We didn’t know we were doing something so different that would affect so many people, but it seems to, and we’re really grateful.”

Barbeau believes that being with her mother’s body for a “winding down” period after death allowed her to come to terms with her passing.

“People think they’ll be protected from the rawness of death if they create distance,” she said. “But we were less hurt, less disabled from my mom’s death because we were so close.”

Merilynn Rush is forming a local support group for people interested in after-death home care. For information, contact her at her website. You can read more about the after-death care of Sharon Bailey here.

Merilynn Rush guided the family in caring for their mother's body at home. After washing her, they oiled her skin with a fragrant rose salve made by their friend Annie Elder of the Community Farm of Ann Arbor.

Laura Bailey holds the hand of her mother, Sharon Bailey, after Sharon's death.

Love notes for Sharon Bailey from her family, tucked into her hands after death.

From left: Merilynne Rush, and sisters Beth Barbeau and Laura Bailey.

About the author: Jo Mathis is an Ann Arbor-based writer.