The secret to my parents' 60-year marriage is based on so many factors, some of which could never be predicted. That's right: Sixty years of mutual devotion, regular frustration, occasional spats and a fierce commitment to the greater good. There were no hot air balloon rides or tandem sky jumping stunts. No open bar. Not even a harbor cruise. The auspicious milestone was marked quietly, with a small family gathering at my dad's nursing home.

But in my head, champagne corks went a-popping.

As we all know, your average American marriage these days is not a safe bet for 60 years of two lovers in the same sack. But looking back at my parents' long marriage, I can point to a number of things that fused and strengthened their connection over the years. They shared a common legacy of immigrant families, dedication to family and education, and a certain joie de vivre. Best of all, they were always willing to air their differences (honestly and audibly) -- and then make up, with due affection. Those traits probably helped them weather many tempests.

Oh, and did I mention my 85-year-old father's mistress? I'm quite sure the past 10 years would have been hell for both of them without her. Thank goodness for her ever-present, ever-yielding spirit.

But she's no ordinary mistress. You see, my father suffers from dementia. And over the course of the last decade since his diagnosis, to while away the long, physically inactive hours, he has found a way to fill this void ... with an imaginary mistress.

Her name is Cunégonde (pronounced kuh-nee-gund-uh), derived from the love interest in Voltaire's Candide. And she's beautiful. Imagine my devoted mother's shock (and amusement) when she found out one day that a young and voluptuous paramour had been entertaining her husband with visits -- regular visits, if you ask him. And if you keep his mind engaged along this line of conversation, as my mother so diligently does, they're apparently conjugal visits!

For my dad, his fantasy lover acts in many dramatic roles. She is a playmate, lover, maternal figure, and most of all, as my dad himself explains, a source of solace.

Life in the nursing home can be a lonely existence. But when mom asks what he most appreciates about Cunégonde, Dad quips, "She has beautiful breasts. And she has a good disposition."

Working with him to stay connected, my mother inquires, "Which is more important?"

"You can't have one without the other!" blurts Dad. As they chortle together, it is comic proof that years of dementia have not dimmed the man's appreciation of the good things in life.

To read more of this post from Jody Gastfriend, LICSW, read her blog at http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jody-gastfriend/mistress-my-fathers_b_2641075.html

One of the biggest advantages to having some years behind you is knowing how things will turn out when you are past middle school, high school, college and everything that follows. During this season of valentines, I'm penning a love letter to my younger self, reassuring her about life's major milestones and telling her what I now know: It will all turn out just fine.

Dear Jody,

Here, let me give you a hug. Middle school is tough and changing schools is especially hard. After years of coddling and feeling like the star in elementary school, you suddenly feel invisible and insignificant. Everyone expects you to be self-sufficient. Your teachers drop difficult concepts into your lap and expect you to sink or swim. That said, you're really knocking that academic stuff out of the park! I know you're afraid to "mess up," but you are smarter than you give yourself credit for. Work on becoming more confident. And while that first secret crush is especially painful, there is nothing to be ashamed of. In a couple of years, you'll go from "gawky" to "elegant" and you'll have no trouble finding boys to date. Oh, and that "weird" kid in your third period science class -- be nice to him. Someday he may be your husband's boss.

Ah, high school is such a tempest. Mean girls, trash-talking boys and teachers who would rather be doing something else. Don't believe that the slightest misstep in your junior year will ruin your chances with a good college, which will ruin your chances at a job and important friends, which will ruin your chances at life. So much of all our futures depend on luck and happenstance, and you end up doing what you were willing to reach for. Falling in love for real is a whirlwind and you will fall hard. Weekends spent crying on the couch because your boyfriend is MIA seem like it is the end of your world. But it isn't. Enjoy your friends (the good ones, like your friend Beth who will still be in your life 35 years later!). Ignore the cool guys who converse with your chest. At your high school reunion 20 years later, they all have pot bellies and receding hair lines.

And stop catastrophizing. Getting a B- on your chemistry final and losing your term paper for honors English (in the old days when there were only typewriters) seem like calamities at the time. But the drama, anguish, gut-wrenching ups and downs of high school and college will help you to be a better and more understanding mother.

Oh and appreciate your own parents once in a while. While they might drive you crazy now, you will cherish their love and guidance once you have your own kids. The memories of long late night talks with Mom and watching Walter Cronkite with Dad seem so precious later in life.

To read more of this post from Jody Gastfriend, LICSW, read her blog at http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jody-gastfriend/letter-to-my-younger-self_b_2672365.html

Caregiving is often an unpredicatable road of turns and junctions, particularly for those who are caught off guard. In fact, unexpected twists and turns are part of the journey. It's just a matter of recognizing your "new normal" as a family caregiver. Whether you are new to this series or just joining, I have discussed first spotting signs that your parent's health may be declining, then putting a care plan in place, and now comes the acceptance of your new life -- the new "normal."

My dad turned 86 a couple of months ago. He had been doing quite well in the nursing home where he's lived for four years. His dementia wasn't getting any worse and his mood was mostly cheerful and content. Then two weeks ago, I got a call that Dad was in the hospital following chest pains. My husband, three children and I dropped everything and made the two-hour trip to Western Massachusetts, where Dad was in intensive care. He had just "ruled in for an MI." In other words, he had a heart attack.

The next two weeks were a whirlwind of good and bad news (mostly bad). Initially Dad's health improved and he was discharged back to the nursing home. Less than a week later he was readmitted for nausea and vomiting. Then my mom got the flu. Then Dad's medications somehow got mixed up and he didn't get his new heart medicine. Then his blood pressure shot up. Days later it stabilized but the blood thinner levels were off. And so it went.

We've been down this road before, as have many other seniors' children and grandchildren. Miraculously, my father has made it, despite some pretty close calls. If you're going through something like this, you're not alone. Here are some of the things I've learned about coping with the new normal of caregiving:

1) Expect the unexpected. Just when you think you know the prognosis, the routine, the choices -- something you couldn't have anticipated happens. Find ways to respond, and keep moving.
2) Never say never. Don't promise Mom that you will never put her in a nursing home. It may be the safest and best option one day.
3) It's OK and "normal" to get angry and frustrated. You need to find a safe outlet to express negative, pent up feelings. Talk to a friend, join a support group or get professional help.
4) Get on the same page with your siblings. Forget that your sister's college tuition was paid by Mom and Dad while you were saddled with student loans. Focus on how to plan for Dad's care. Let go of the old hurts (or put them in a box for another time if you can't totally let go).

To read more of this post from Jody Gastfriend, LICSW, read her blog at http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jody-gastfriend/caregiving-navigating-the-caregiving-frontier_b_2617287.html

Guests do the darnedest things. They complain endlessly, make odd demands, and generally act boorish.

I recently called a friend to offer my compliments on his son's wonderful bar mitzvah, and he told me some of the faux pas visited upon his family in the days before and during his son's once-in-a-lifetime milestone:

One cousin had a balky thermostat in her hotel room -- and called him instead of the hotel staff to complain.

Another obnoxious family member would not travel without her dog and insisted on boarding "Princess" at his house while the bar mitzvah was in progress.

And an in-law complained that the appetizers and sit-down five-course meal included nothing she could eat.

"Why can't people just show up and shut up?" my dear friend Jonathan asked. "Is that so hard to do?"

Apparently for some people it is.

I'm reminded of this as you head to your holiday gatherings and New Year celebrations this week. I'm not sure why in the face of someone else's birthday party, holiday gathering, baby shower, wedding, graduation party or first communion, people feel the need to critique the hospitality they've been offered.

You pay for a steak dinner at a restaurant and the filet comes to the table medium instead of rare, by all means, send it back. The first act of a high-priced Broadway show leaves you snoring, go ahead and write a snippy Facebook post if you must. Your neighbor's daughter decides to get married on a farm, complete with hayride, square-dancing and barbecue supper, you have two choices: Put on a prairie skirt and join the fun or feign another engagement and send your best wishes. You do not have the right to go and complain about the choice of venue, the hay in your shoes, the messy entrée or the disposable dinnerware.

Call me old-fashioned, but I think the altruistic suck-it-up spirit is disappearing. Whatever happened to sit down and shut up? I know I'm not a mother-in-law yet. I don't have the family dinner where I desperately want to know when grandkids are coming or what my daughter-in-law is doing with her hair. But I hear these things at the office. And I have to warn all you cranky dinner guests: Keep it to yourselves. Want to complain about the heat? Go put on a sweater. Thinking about fussing with the cooking? Bring a granola bar. If you're going to say something -- anything -- make sure it's positive.

And whether you're going to a wedding or a hay-ride, consider these five general rules:

1. It's not about you. The family hosting the celebration wants you to have a good time. However, they are busy and likely a little overwhelmed. Take some responsibility for your own comfort, arrangements and needs. If you need special accommodations (need, not want) ask when you accept or politely decline the invitation.

To read more of this post from Jody Gastfriend, LICSW, read her blog at http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jody-gastfriend/holiday-guests-advice_b_2341282.html

Sometimes, the changing patterns of a loved one's behavior are barely noticable, until , in one moment,they are all you can see. For me, it was during the holidays, when my dad wandered away from a family gathering and emerged hours later, disheveled and upset.

"Where were you?" my mother asked, aghast at dad's unexplained disappearance.

"I went to pick up my dry cleaning," he said, empty-handed and on foot. It was then that my family put together a worrisome pattern of missed appointments, driving difficulties and memory lapses -- the early signs of dementia.

For my friend Maggie, there was no pattern of behaviors pointing in an ominous direction -- just a phone call.

"My husband and I were having a fight over something stupid," she explains. "I was so pissed off I almost didn't hear the phone ring. When Mom told me about her diagnosis, pancreatic cancer, I couldn't speak. All the problems that were swirling around in my head suddenly seemed inconsequential. My world caved in on me and I didn't know where to turn."

Though our circumstances differed, Maggie and I both found ourselves in a role we were not quite ready for -- how to develop a care plan that's best for our families' needs. As I talked about in my previous post on how to spot warning signs related to your parents' well-being, these challenges often spike around the holidays when adult children visit their aging parents and are confronted with a new normal.

Something has changed -- mom is more frail, dad more forgetful -- and the caregiver torch gets passed from one generation to the next. If you find yourself in this role, you don't have to go it alone. Consider the following pointers to plan ahead and ease the journey:

Do Your Research

If you're out of town, who might check in on Mom or Dad in a storm or after a treatment? Who might be able to bring a nice meal over from time to time? Think about building a network of neighborly resources. Not available? Learn about the local senior center and home care agencies where your parent might enjoy a class, access transportation or find companionship. And consider identifying these resources now before a care crisis erupts, just in case you need more support at a later time.

Form a Team

If you have siblings, air your concerns before discussing them with your parents. The annual holiday dinner, when everyone is gathered together, is not the best time to broach the topic. Instead, come up with a plan to hold a family meeting. Agree to communicate as a unified front and hear each other's perspectives with an open mind; letting conflicts simmer at the surface will only derail your efforts.

To read more of this post from Jody Gastfriend, LICSW, read her blog at http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jody-gastfriend/seniors-and-the-holidays-_b_2258117.html

I reluctantly joined the club my sister refers to as the "I Can't Remember Sh*T Club" years ago, and I daresay I'm not alone. Groucho Marx famously opined, "I don't care to belong to any club that would have me as a member." But join this club we do, because like it or not, while we may get wiser as we age, we also tend to forget sh*t.

But as the children of an aging parent with dementia, my sister and I worry about our occasional memory lapses. We first noticed that dad's baseline absent-mindedness (like calling me by our dog's name) had shifted to something more ominous ten years ago. Dad got lost driving home from the local grocery store and forgot to pay the bills -- both behaviors very atypical for him. While my sister and I enjoy laughing at each other's "I can't remember sh*t" moments, there is a more serious underlying issue at play. When we walk into a room and can't remember what we are looking for, or when we see an old friend in the supermarket and are horrified that we can't remember her name, we worry: Are we are losing our memory?

Recently I watched a movie on Netflix and realized half way through that I had seen it before. While disconcerting, it is not the same as forgetting how to drive or getting lost on my way home. And yet, how much control do we have of our destinies -- or our genes at this point?

If you're a current, or shall we say aspiring, member of the "I can't remember sh*t club," there are a few things you should know:

To read more of this post from Jody Gastfriend, LICSW, read her blog at http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jody-gastfriend/memory-loss_b_2166827.html

Even Alzheimer's disease cannot silence the likes of the eternal Rhinestone Cowboy, Glen Campbell.

A recent concert captivated the standing-room-only baby boomer audience who came to enjoy Campbell's sonorous voice as it echoed through the concert hall. During one of his last scheduled concerts before he stops touring permanently, Campbell was a picture of grace and inspiration to long-time fans.

As he belted out such heartfelt standards as "By the Time I Get to Phoenix," "Wichita Lineman" and "Gentle on my Mind," many fans, including a friend who attended, traveled back in time. The lyrics awakened long forgotten memories of people and places, of loves come and gone.

Sadly, the concert my friend attended will be one of Campbell's last. The singer has cancelled the final leg of his "Goodbye Tour," scheduled for Australia and New Zealand, because he isn't up to the long flight. Last year, Campbell was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. During the concert, my friend described how Campbell occasionally forgot the words to songs -- even as his fans sang along, even with the help of Teleprompters. He asked for patience as he struggled to find his place, explaining to the audience that he had "health issues."

Not only did he get the audience's patience, he inspired their reverence. The music that connected the crowd to so many emotions also connected them to Campbell in ways neither might have expected.

You see, Alzheimer's disease robs its victims of their capacity to do many things, but it does not take away their ability to appreciate and experience music.

A popular YouTube video, part of a documentary called Alive Inside, shows the story of Henry, a nursing home resident who is unresponsive and completely disengaged from the world. But when he's given an iPod, Henry comes alive. The music transforms him and he becomes communicative, alert and engaged. He is able to describe his spiritual connection to music in general and his love of Cab Calloway in particular. Music puts Henry in touch with a still-living, breathing part of himself.

Dr. Oliver Sacks, the renowned neurologist, described by the New York Times as "the poet laureate of medicine" has studied the therapeutic impact that music has on the brain. I'm not in that league, but I've seen the impact that music has on the brain as well.

To read more of this post by Jody Gastfriend, LICSW, check out her blog at http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jody-gastfriend/glen-campbell_b_1725881.html

As the holidays approach, I want to share a story with you. It’s the story of a friend of mine, Noreen*-a typical sandwich-generation mom and daughter who had many people and priorities to juggle. But it was at Thanksgiving last year when she realized something needed to change.

Noreen left home for college 30 years ago. After graduation, she got married, had two sons, and settled into a life in a small town north of Boston. But her roots, along with her aging parents, were still in Western Massachusetts. Among her three siblings, Noreen lived the closest to her folks and was the most worried. Her brother, Tom lived on the west coast and typically chalked up Mom’s forgetfulness and Dad’s driving mishaps as part of getting older. Pam, the youngest, had her hands full with a rebellious teenager and a recent divorce. She had no room on her plate to worry about Mom and Dad.

So, as Noreen drove –- or crawled -- along the highway last Thanksgiving, she wistfully remembered Thanksgivings past. Mom’s famous pecan chocolate chip pie, Dad’s careful carving of the turkey and the children’s delight at watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade in their pajamas seemed like scenes out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Noreen also recalled the fractious squabbles that sometimes erupted amidst the merriment. Those tensions seemed far less weighty than the anxiety she now felt about her parent’s safety and welfare, and her siblings’ apparent dismissal of her fears.

Arriving at her parent’s home, Noreen couldn’t help but stare at the peeling paint and the unkempt lawn. Years ago, she suggested her folks sell the house and find a place to live that was more senior-friendly. Dispelling her concerns, Noreen’s parents quickly dismissed the idea. Noreen, unsupported by her siblings, let the issue drop. Now, she regretted that decision. She opened the front door and got a whiff of something burnt. Turns out it was the turkey. Noreen’s mother was apologetic. She had gotten distracted by the excitement of the holiday. Tom and Pam were busy ordering take out Chinese food and seemed un-phased by the Thanksgiving turkey that had already been tossed. Mom had always been a consummate cook. Now, no one seemed to care that she ruined the holiday meal centerpiece.  Noreen also worried about her Dad who seemed unsteady and frail.  She asked how he was feeling and he replied “under the weather” but hadn’t seen the doctor in months. As the day progressed, Noreen grew increasingly more concerned. She saw a stack of bills on the kitchen counter, some of them dating back months.  She observed Mom forgetting simple things and got frazzled easily. While Noreen did not want to worry excessively or make a scene, things seemed out of sorts and she could no longer pretend otherwise.

Holidays are a time when emotions get stirred up. Like Thanksgiving cranberry sauce and stuffing, our emotions are a mixture of ingredients: Excitement, joy, sadness and stress can all be part of the family recipe. Many adult children, like Noreen, must face a changing reality and confront their own anxiety and grief as their parents lose their strength and independence. These changes are often more prominent around holiday time, particularly for adult children who live at a distance. It is easy to overreact when we see, as Noreen did, bills piling up or a home not properly cared for. At the same time, it is important to differentiate changes in behavior. A newfound tendency to let the house go a bit can be part of normal aging, or it can represent illness and decline. When I later met Noreen for coffee, she told me she worried that the burnt turkey was an ominous sign. I assured her that one burnt turkey does not foreshadow disaster, but a pattern of uncharacteristic behaviors, is more of a concern.

Holidays can be incredibly stressful. In the midst of all the activity and eating, they can also provide an opportunity to observe our parents as they age. So this season, here is what to look for to determine if your worries are justified and whether there are real concerns about your parent’s wellbeing and safety that need to be addressed:

1. Change in eating habits/weight loss
2. Forgetfulness -- out of the ordinary
3. Neglected personal hygiene and cleanliness
4. Decrease in socialization and activity level
5. Significant mood changes
6. Unexplained dents in the car (Learn how to talk to a parent about no longer driving>>)
7. Misuse of prescribed medications
8. Mishandling finances

Like Noreen.. Read more from Jody Gastfriend on Huffington Post

*Noreen is a composite of friends and family caregiver.

I am increasingly enamored of "smart" devices and mobile technology, all of which have changed the world, revealed injustices, simplified chores, and just made my life easier. I love being able to reach my children anywhere, anytime (assuming they answer my calls). I love being able to accomplish real work from a doctor's waiting room or from my living room, and I love the guilty pleasure of looking up old beaus and classmates on social networking sites.

If the whole idea behind mobile technology is to make us more flexible, to make work easier and to make life more efficient, why are people so rabidly impatient these days? The point, as far as I'm concerned, is to relieve us of pressing demands and give us more time, and more ways, to relax and engage other people. Somehow, I'm not sure my fellow digital devotees have gotten the message. Watch the rolling eyes of a friend who's been put on hold. Walk through a bank lobby and check out the toe-tapping people waiting in line. Take a deep breath and notice -- really notice -- the drivers zipping around in traffic, only to land first at the stop light instead of second. We are increasingly hard-wired for instant responses to our needs and easily frustrated when we have to wait for anything. In short, we have become a nation of big, whiny, foot-stamping toddlers.

Granted, I live in a fast-paced city in the northeast where we have the ignominious reputation of having some of the worst drivers in the country. But I have friends around the U.S. who complain to me about escalating rudeness on the roads. Cars don't stop for pedestrians at crosswalks and drivers start honking milliseconds after a light turns green. Even in face-to-face meetings, attention spans short circuit and people openly check their email, Facebook and Twitter accounts when they should be engaged in conversation (or at least listening politely).

As a senior care professional and the daughter of two octogenarians, I think we can all learn more about patience from our aging parents and family members. At some point, you need to slow down and accept that you can't be as fast as Usain Bolt. The more time I spend with my folks, the more I am aware of the importance of patience. My mom walks a lot slower these days and I notice that I have to force myself to keep pace with her and not rush ahead. Sometimes she retells a story and I have to bite my tongue and not point this out. I coach family caregivers to have patience with their aging parents while at the same time, not sacrificing their own health and mental well being.

But patience has its own benefits, if we can just slow down enough to recognize them. When I walk slowly beside my mother, often she'll share an observation or a snippet of memory that I might not have heard if I'd been rushing ahead. When she retells a story, sometimes she adds details and richness that I missed the first time around. When I look in her eyes, I can see the wisdom that she still has to offer me.

As I age, I grow increasingly more appreciative of ways to enjoy the present as time races by.

To read more of this post from Jody Gastfriend, LICSW, read her blog at http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jody-gastfriend/patience_b_1937009.html