When falls attack

It's hard to beat Talk Like a Pirate Day. But today did, by being Massachusetts' first-ever Falls Prevention Awareness Day. That's not falls as in "Niagara" or "autumn," but falls as in "shit, that hurts."

No official day just spontaneously comes into being, and Falls Prevention Awareness Day is no exception: it's the fruit of long months of lobbying by the Massachusetts Falls Prevention Coalition, a group of elder-care organizations. And yes, the day's proximity to the first day of fall is intentional, says Pat Kelleher, the executive director of the Home Care Alliance. "It's a little cute, sure," she says. "But hopefully we'll do it every year."

Indeed, Kelleher wanted to have Falls Prevention Awareness Day on the first day of fall, but was thwarted by the calendar and the extremely lackadaisical schedules of State House staffers. This Sunday is the equinox, but everyone flees the capitol like rats from a sinking ship on Fridays, so the Thursday is the lame compromise.

So today, Kelleher introduced a parade of speakers that included State Senator Pat Jehlen and Department of Public Health Commissioner John Auerbach. Together, they triumphantly announced that falling down is now a legitimate medical issue, as enshrined in an official decree by Deval Patrick. (The governor himself didn't attend, perhaps because he was busy turning the Commonwealth into a pit of trembling slots zombies.)

"This is a major public health topic," Auerbach told the small gathering fittingly located in Nurses' Hall. "Every day, 500 people are admitted to hospital beds and go to emergency rooms because of serious fall-related injuries."

It's doubtful that the statistics were what convinced Patrick into declaring September 20 Falls Prevention Awareness Day. It was probably the sob stories that did it, since every speaker seemed to have one.

"My mother fell and broke her hip last Tuesday," said Eleanor Shea-Delaney, the Acting Secretary of Elder Affairs.

"A week ago, my 95-year-old mother fell and broke a hip," Auerbach said.

"When my father was 85, he broke his hip," said Jehlen. "After that, he started needing home care, couldn’t drive as often, and begin getting more confused. Last fall, he fell again, and now he needs full-time care. I can't fix that."

Falling has only been recognized as a health risk for elders since 2005, when Medicare began requiring home care organizations to track 'adverse events" that affected their clients' health, Kelleher says. "We started looking at the data, and realized that it's not chronic disease that's sending people to the hospital--it's falls."

In Massachusetts, the Falls Prevention Coalition is hoping to prolong the lives of the elderly by preventing falls as often as possible. One hint: "Reduce clutter, and throw rugs that people can trip over," Auerbach said. Then he announced DPH's ace-in-the-hole: a "Falls Prevention Hotline.” You can reach it at 1-800-227-SAFE.

JON SCIESZKA IS IN BOSTON RIGHT NOW

Need something to do this afternoon? Book it over to the Wellesley Free Library at 3:30pm to hear macabre children's book author Jon Scieszka, the creator of the Stinky Cheese Man, pimp his new book, Cowboy and Octopus. Don't fret if you're not a preteen anymore--Scieszka's dark humor and jovial evangelism about how "guys should read" are for all ages. Really--when we asked him rude questions about his new book, he didn't flinch.

Will cowboy and octopus be like Bert and Ernie? You know--a little too close?

Absolutely. And it's interspecies.

You know that there's such a thing as "tentacle porn," right?

Hey, this isn't my fault--it's all the illustrator's. Whatever cowboy's doing with his hand like that, it wasn't my idea. I sure wish that cowboy had larger feet, too. I had imagined his boots much larger. What does Lane Smith have against big-footed cowboys? And what's with the little flaps on his pockets? Great--now you've got me started. I had imagined him on his horse. I thought it would be really funny if in every situation, he was on a bucking bronco. Even indoors. But I guess he'd always be out of the frame.

So back to writing about characters who are "best friends" . . . are they like Frog and Toad? They were a little suspect, too.

That came out of Arnold Lobel, who was gay anyhow. Incidentally, he lived on 3rd Street in Brooklyn, just like me. So it's in the geographical genes. But I think there's really something purely elemental about just two friends. They're really fun to write about that way, because one character can just bounce off the other.

Which is bouncing off which?

I guess that octopus is the one bouncing off the cowboy. Even octopus, who thinks he's really a smart guy, he'll learn something from cowboy, because he's so honest. I just amused myself to no end. I had a ton of fun with them.

So, since when don't boys read?

It's such a weird thing--I honestly don't know how the hell that happened. I just know that boys are struggling. My daughter was an overachieving crazyass reader, and my son decided, "I'm a hockey player." I think it started when the third grade teacher required Little House on the Prairie. He and I struggled through that. Oh my God, nothing is happening--can't they put in motorcycles and wolves? The chapter that killed him is when they decide to make a door. They just spent the whole chapter making a door.

I'm not sure that I believe you about boys not reading.

I've been going around to schools and asking the kids themselves, one boy told me: "I like video games instead, because you can actually make the characters do stuff." Girls said they loved reading because you can get inside character. Boys hate that. They feel pushed around. I think women are like that, where they're more about listening to people and making connections. Boys are just like, "I'll light this on fire." Or, "I'll eat it." Or, "I'll kick it."

How are you trying to change this, eh?

Role models would be good. But the easiest thing I've found is to call to attention to this; to say that it is a problem. One thing I tell teachers is to think of reading in a much broader way. Don't just think of Little House on the Prairie as writing. Boys love non-fiction and humor, all of which is hardly ever recommended reading in school.

Really?

They would never let some kid read shark books for two weeks in school. The holy grail of school is Toni Morrison. My son read all that. I think Beloved was the one that blew him away. He wrote about what a shitty book it was, and I encouraged it, of course.

What's the matter with squids today?

I think they just don’t get enough squid love.

[More about Jon Scieszka and Cowboy and Octopus at jsworldwide.com]

Good on ya, MIT

Exploding-sodium-in-the-Charles update: MIT has done the classy thing and donated $6000 to the Charles River Clean Up Boat. Here's an excerpt from the email I got yesterday from Tom McNichol:

"Some good news. I received a call from MIT this morning saying they would donate $6,000 dollars to the Clean Up Boat. This cover the money we owe to Triumvirate Environmental. The excess money, over the bill, will be applied to boat repair and incidentals such as replacement clothes and shoes for [the two injured volunteers]. . . The other good news is that a number of organizations and individuals have started efforts to get the bill paid, and keep us going . . . I believe we have enough money to pay the 2007 bills . . . Thanks again to everyone for helping out, the idea that if most helped we can keep the Charles clean is a reality."

Also, in a previous email, McNichol stressed that MIT has financially supported the Clean Up Boat for years. Who says all the local universities have no souls?

So Not Our Sodium

Despite the fact that MIT has a not-so-secret yearly ritual of dropping sodium into the Charles and a chunck of sodium in the Charles injured five people last week, MIT isn't sure that the two incidents are related.

An article in The Tech today stressed that "it is unclear at this point whether the sodium is connected to MIT," and quoted various MIT officials making non-committal noises about the university's involvement.

This means that the Charles River Clean Up Boat, an organization that's gamely removed the detritus of our nasty college town from the water for years, is stuck holding the bag its own decontamination bills.

When the Clean Up Boat came across a chunk of unexploded sodium last Thursday, they thought it was a "rough piece of Styrafoam about 2” in diameter and 10” long." So they fished it out of the water with a pool skimmer and put it in one of their on-board trash bins. Where it exploded.

This set a rather costly series of events in motion, according to a mass email sent out today by Tom McNichol, the president of the Clean Up Boat:

"The police examined the boat until 9:30 PM and then called me to pick it up," he wrote. "Since I was in Framingham, I call Community Boating and they agreed to tow it to one of their mooring until I could pick it up in the morning. While towing the boat, water inside shifted and contacted some undetected, residual sodium and it flashed again. They called the fire department. Who in turn called me, demanding I get a de-contamination crew there immediately . . . The decontamination started at 9:00 AM and finished about 2:30 in the afternoon . . . The whole interior of the boat had to be de-contaminated."

Full-scale chemical decontaminations aren't cheap. McNichol says that the cost is threatening to put the Clean Up Boat out of business, because, at the moment, MIT isn't responsible.

"The police are still investigating the source of the sodium," he concluded his email. "As of now I do not know who is responsible. I do know that the Clean Up Boat is responsible for the bill to de-contaminate the boat and obliged to pay it. We do not have any money to pay this bill, and are requesting help from any source. I do not know the amount today, but it is significant to us as we operate on a year to year basis, and have no reserves."

I know you don't have $34.9 billion like Harvard, MIT, but come on. Shell out.