Louisa Rogers

War, disease, poverty, natural disasters, and other forms of human suffering have existed throughout history. While in many ways modern life is much less difficult than it was for our ancestors, the world can still feel bleak at times. How can we create and sustain a sense of optimism and hope during challenging periods? The themes I’ve gathered here reflect timeless wisdom that people have used for centuries to overcome adversity. I offer them in a series of contrasting but rhythmic pairs, l...

Caregiving can be both physically and emotionally draining, especially when you’re witnessing the pain, loss and suffering of loved ones or patients. Add the long hours, balancing a career and family, and potentially low pay and administrative details, and you can see why compassion fatigue and burnout are so common among caregivers. Mindfulness, a practice to help you focus on the present moment, won’t eliminate the stress, but it will help you cope better and become more resilient. Author J...

As a reader of Live and Invest Overseas, you probably have dreams of living in another country, as I did for much of my adult life…
Based on my experience, it may take more than one try to land on your ideal destination.
My husband Barry and I considered two beautiful, iconic cities before finding our home in a third country…
We’ve lived in Northern California for most of our married life, but both of us have always daydreamed about a base in Europe. Originally British, Barry has a great fond...

If you find it difficult to exercise, then you aren’t alone. Exercises for caregivers and seniors can be daunting, but it doesn’t have to be. I grew up sedentary, under the wing of my mother— a warm, charismatic woman who unfortunately avoided physical activity and spent most of her daily life indoors, smoking. My father, on the other hand, was the active parent. Long before anyone else, he ran three miles faithfully every morning. Eventually I followed my father’s example, becoming what I ca...

On listening.

Happy places

About my trip to postwar Bosnia

My father’s friend Dottie, a single widowed lady of 95, loves her robotic cat Sheena. (Indeed, when my father and I visited her in the assisted-living facility where she lives, I loved cuddling up with the kitty too). Even better, during Covid, when Dottie couldn’t leave her room or invite family members or friends to visit, Sheena saved her from loneliness.
Dottie is not alone. Programmed cats and dogs provide a sense of companionship and comfort to many of the elderly, especially to those l...

“I have a secret to tell you,” my then 97-year-old father told me on the phone, in a conspiratorial whisper— “and you mustn’t tell anyone. I’m going to win half a million dollars tomorrow.”
I hoped my sigh wasn’t too obvious. Over the last year, my intelligent, worldly father had become vulnerable to sweepstake scams. As soon as he responded to one offer, more mail with seductive promises would arrive. No amount of reasoning on my sisters’ and my parts would change his mind.
We finally contro...

Ways to prepare for being an expat

About a year ago, I was chatting on the phone with my then-99-year-old father, who was telling me about his morning. He lives on the other side of the country from me, in an assisted living facility in central Pennsylvania. Because he has a catheter, a Licensed Practical Nurse (LPN) had arrived that morning around 7:00 a.m. to change the larger bag that he uses during the night to a smaller daytime bag. LPNs, the low-paid, unsung heroes of any assisted living facility, are the nurses who real...

Taking the Mundane and Making It Mandatory for a Peaceful Existence
Every morning, I spend a couple of minutes making the bed my husband Barry and I share. First, I smooth the wrinkles of the bottom sheet, then I pull up the top sheet, plump the pillows, and finally align the duvet. I do all this early, before breakfast or yoga, because it gets my day off right. Housework is a very mixed bag for me, but I do enjoy making the bed.
Washing the dishes is another pleasure. I love the way the warm...

In the winter of 1974, newly arrived in Vancouver, B.C., I worked as a temp, barely covering my expenses. And with no sense of my professional future, I never worked long enough in any one location to bond with my coworkers. The short, gray winter days didn't help, either.
After work, walking in the dark to the bus stop, I'd stop at a corner store and buy a candy bar. One day, the Sikh owner, recognizing a familiar customer, said, "Have you tried this? It's sesame," and handed me what looked ...