Category: Granite Views

Everyone has a story to tell. As a doctor, people share their stories with me related to their health and their lives — often about sickness, suffering and loss, and also about celebration and wonderful things. I’m a receiver of stories — and it’s an incredible honor to be entrusted with such a privilege.

Lots of people are now telling their stories on social media platforms, sharing to larger and larger audiences, where stories are often rewarded with “likes” and going “viral.” Thanks to Covid-19, we have been living through historic times that will be remembered like the Black Death of 1350 or the Spanish Flu of 1918 — “history” in the making!

A new storytelling initiative in New Hampshire offers an opportunity for all of us to tell our own stories from this unprecedented time we’re living through. Our Story: Reflections from the Pandemic and Beyond (ourstorynh.com) is a forum to create, share and collect stories across New Hampshire via multiple media and from multiple sectors of life, experience, feelings, hopes and thoughts of life during and before the pandemic and in anticipation of a post-pandemic reality.

Storytelling is transformational. Research has revealed that storytelling benefits both the person sharing and the listener. In fact, listening to other people’s stories has been shown to activate parts of the brain as though we were experiencing the events ourselves, creating a powerful connection to both the narrative and the storyteller. Stories can inspire and motivate and be uniquely memorable as they engage both head and heart. Perhaps this is why storytelling has existed in every culture across time.

What most inspired me to volunteer to help bring the Our Story NH project to fruition is its grounding in an ethical framework that intentionally centers equity. The primary goal is to create a space for self-expression, healing and an opportunity to be heard where participants tell their own stories on their own terms and where the storytellers completely own their stories. There is a therapeutic dimension to telling our stories via whatever medium we choose. Our Story NH will offer a number of ways to capture people’s experiences and personal histories including listening stations around the state as well as digital storytelling workshops. And a community council to inform and guide the project is in development — perhaps you might be interested?

For now, I invite you to share your story via the website (ourstorynh.com) — in text, audio, video, photo or artwork form. We all have stories to tell. Won’t you join us in telling yours?

More than ever, it’s important to support your local merchants. The pandemic has been hardest on small independent merchants in terms of income loss and staffing shortages. As the saying goes, the big get bigger, and the pandemic only heightened that. Though that can be good for some, it’s a net loss to us and our communities.

Local independent businesses are part of what makes our communities different from other places; they are part of the fabric of the community. Imagine no local retail, no local coffee shops, no local bars or restaurants or no local bookstores. We’d all be poorer for it not only economically but also socially. These places help bind us together the same way our schools and community organizations do. It’s important to protect that.

Though it’s not always easy, please be mindful to include local shops, local producers who sell online and local services in your gift plans.

It’s better on a few levels.

For starters more of the money you spend at local merchants ends up back in your community. A 2012 economic impact study in Andersonville, Illinois, found that for every $100 spent at a local independent business $68 remained in the local economy versus just $43 for national chains. I would venture to guess that even less of your money stays in the local economy when buying from an online retailer, such as Amazon. On top of that, I’d argue online retailers are significant users of our roads, sidewalks and bridges. Are they really contributing enough back to the local economy to help pay for their use? The folks at Civic Economics and the American Booksellers Association would say no. Check out civiceconomics.com.

Local merchants give back the community in numerous additional ways. They sponsor local sports teams and service organizations, such as Rotary. They lower prices by providing competition to chains and online retailers. They provide more choices. They can pay better wages than many of the chains. They tend to have a smaller environmental footprint than online retailers. They provide a way out of poverty for their owners. They make decisions locally based on the needs of their customers and community. They provide better customer service. They pay more taxes and fees. And they, maybe most importantly, provide much of the character of our community.

Are all local businesses or their owners perfect? Of course not. Some are stinkers. But by and large the benefits far outweigh the negatives, and they need your support. So please, this holiday season take a moment and think about how you can direct more of your spending to local businesses.

Sometimes our strong desire to live free or die gets in the way of common-sense solutions. A case in point is the initial rejection of $27 million in federal funding by our Executive Council to bolster Covid vaccination efforts, with New Hampshire being the only state to reject the funds. The majority of Council members believed that accepting the funds would commit New Hampshire to future federal vaccine mandates. Attorney General Formella had addressed this concern and advised that interpretation was incorrect. His advice was disregarded in the initial vote.

Weeks later, the Council reversed its position, agreeing to accept $22 million of the funding. What drove the change in mindset? A non-binding resolution that accompanied the contract stating that the governor and Council are on record against any federal vaccine mandate. Also included was language changing the state’s immunization registry from “opt-out” to “opt-in.”

NHPR’s Nov. 2 report on vaccination rate discrepancies in New Hampshire signifies the importance of accepting these funds. The CDC, along with other online reporting sites, consistently reports New Hampshire’s vaccination rate as much higher than the state reports on its own site (covid19.nh.gov).

According to DHHS Commissioner Shibinette, the state’s records are missing thousands of doses. She noted this is a result of ending the state of emergency, the rollout of the state vaccine registry system, and the inability to collect Covid-19 data for individuals not presented with the ability to opt out of the system (as required by state law). In a nutshell, the state numbers don’t include doses administered by the pharmacies as they are federal providers and are not required to provide an opt-out option when reporting data to the federal government.

After years of discussion and concerns over privacy issues, New Hampshire was the last state in the nation to approve a statewide immunization registry. Will the $22 million coming to New Hampshire allow us to provide accurate data in this registry? According to the Union Leader, the funding allows for the hiring of 13 full-time and temporary staffers to build out the immunization registry and other vaccine activities.

Accurate data should be what is driving policy and decision making. When Executive Councilors are misinformed, and our data systems are inaccurate, public policy decisions are questioned, and rightfully so. Officials are elected to serve in the best interest of our citizens and our state versus pandering to the vocal few.

Robin Milnes is a small-business owner and advocate with more than 30 years of experience in real estate acquisitions, property management, sales, leasing, budgeting, fiscal oversight, human resources and administration. She can be reached at [email protected].

Whether the topic is the pandemic, the economy, the climate, world affairs or politics, we all seem to be having serious conversations these days. And to come to those conversations with knowledge, we often feel there is so much to read, to view or to listen to. It seems overwhelming. What I have observed, sadly, is that those conversations too often end with a comment such as, “I am really worried” or “I feel so depressed” or “Will things ever change for the better?”

The roller coaster of daily life these days contributes greatly to this sense of dis-ease. With its flow and ebb, Covid-19 keeps us shifting our behavior, ever uneasy about where to go, what to do or with whom to be, and with what consequences. The rising cost of living, the persistence of hate speech and acts, the inequities of our society, and the sufferings of so many cast deep shadows over the lives of so many. No wonder there exists the mental stress about which we read, which we see in others and we feel at times ourselves.

A recently departed dear friend once counseled me, “Hope is that most noble of human virtues. Especially in tough times, we need it to keep us going and to do what we need to do.”

Those words came back to me as by chance I happened upon a poem by John O’Donohue titled “This is the Time to be Slow” (from his collection To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings). While the very title of the poem was strangely, and in a welcome way, quieting to me, it was an image in his poem that impressed me most by its simplicity and beauty.

He counsels the reader not to let “the wire brush of doubt scrape [from your heart] all sense of yourself.” Instead, he urges we remain generous even as our “hesitant light” may flicker. For with hope, we shall, in time, find a new beginning. We’ll step again on “fresh pastures of promise.”

A poem is a purse made of words into which a treasure is kept (or so I once heard it described). O’Donohue’s poem did indeed carry a treasure greatly in need at this time in all of our lives. His image of “the wire brush of doubt” and its potentially abrasive effect is truly wise counsel too. I hope to keep it firmly in mind and to share it with others.

On Nov. 9 UNH will be hosting its second program in the 2021-2022 Sidore Lecture Series. The topic will be Caregiving: Honor and Burden, Contributions, and Impact, and it will feature local and national subject matter leaders. All are invited to attend this virtual (and free) Zoom session.

My own involvement with caregiving is a personal one at both a familial and a community level. Having spent my entire life in New England, I have seen the ways the belief in individualism can ripple out into communal care. My grandmother hid her memory loss from her family and my Péperé struggled with managing his diabetes because neither one wanted to be seen as a burden. Relying on one another can seem counter to many of the values I’ve seen espoused in whiteness.

Intergenerational relationships have been paramount in my life and I see the ways that these connections have held mutual benefit for all involved. I can literally say I wouldn’t be where I am in life without them. There is something beautiful when we can honor the experiences and humanity of each other and, especially for me, when it transcends many of the social norms we’ve been conditioned to expect.

Being a member of the LGBTQIA community has given me heightened appreciation of the role of caregiving. The experiences shared with me from the “elders” are ones I’ll never find in the history books.

As the AIDS epidemic devastated the gay population, there were many members of their chosen family who were there to offer the care needed to navigate the virus. The stories I’ve heard are both heart-wrenching and uplifting as they have demonstrated the true value of love when we are at our most vulnerable.

As I’ve navigated this process, I can sense the fear of becoming too needy or overly relying on other people to live my life. I find this to be a devastating side effect to the notion of freedom and I often wonder what lies beneath these fears. Do we truly believe we are not an interdependent species? That without you there really cannot be a me?

Caregiving is a two-way street and I encourage all readers to tune into this important program on Nov. 9. You can find more information by searching “UNH Sidore Lecture” or just email me for the link. I am excited about the possibility presented in how we view this critical part of our society. We may be the “Live Free or Die” state but, maybe, we can begin to consider a new path grounded less in burden and more in honor, contributions and impact.

I like to hike and to write. Both activities demand focus. One foot, or one word, in front of another. The effort distracts me from problems and surfaces memories and ideas.

As if the foliage on the Kancamagus Highway weren’t glorious enough, I recently hiked the Champney Falls Trail up Mt. Chocorua. Golden, orange and red leaves floated down from the treetops. Balsam and damp moss scented the air. Just out of sight the waterfall hummed like a highland bagpipe. Poking my poles into the leaves in search of solid ground, I picked my way among the rocks and roots. I was thinking about my mother.

Chocorua was the last big mountain my mother climbed before multiple sclerosis confined her to lower ground. Due to that disease, even her vinyl kitchen floor proved rough terrain on bad days. Remembering her determination to enjoy life and help others despite her condition, I backtracked in my mind to the stories she told us of growing up in the Depression and World War II. As a child in rural New Hampshire, she didn’t know that much about the interplay of economic, political and military forces at work. What she did understand from a young age was that she and her family and neighbors could make a difference. They needed to help with “the war effort.” They could, and did, grow victory gardens for food self-sufficiency; collect and donate scrap metal and rags; save quarters to buy war bonds; and make do with rationing. My grandmother sometimes served “peanut butter oatmeal chops” for supper. My mother knew it was her patriotic duty not to complain.

As in the 1940s, the U.S.A. now faces multiple fronts: the Covid pandemic, substance abuse, and mental health crises; financial precariousness; economic, educational and racial disparities; political stalemate; and, above all, climate change. Where are the 21st-century equivalents of those ebullient World War II posters urging Americans to do their part? Too few of us are getting the message that there is something we each can do. Too many are obsessed with protecting individual rights and ignoring societal responsibilities. Our republic is in dire danger. What to do? For starters, just get vaccinated.

I have to pause, breathing in-in-in and out-out-out. Above the treeline, granite boulders loom between me and the summit, grating my knees as I scramble up. But at the top, the blue sky, the distant lakes, the company of the other mountains, steadies me. Everything seems possible — even the resolution of our nation’s problems. It is not enough to hike, though. I have to write.

Susan Hatem, former Director of Programs and Grant Making at New Hampshire Humanities, is a CASA of NH guardian ad litem and a connector, mentor and writer. Email her at [email protected].