You! Yes you. You look fabulous! Totally! And what about that twinkle in your eye? Always that sparkle in your smile. The confidence you carry in your actions and thoughts. The unpredictability in your wit. If you could see what I see… A presence, a light, a gift. You are Amazing! Don’t change a thing!                                                             

What beautiful attributes we often see and believe of others. Honest, pure, loving. Ego stroking. 

What word or phrase defines you? Have you always lived believing this value? Or have you evolved into another being as a result to unexpected events or circumstances? Whatever the case, we all have something deeper… within ourselves of who we are… what we’ve been through… lessons learned. This development and knowledge is Powerful.                                                                                   

What defines us may not be all that others see and believe. As is often the case, we underestimate our value and worth to fellow humans. Why is that? Do we naturally put our best foot forward for others while at the same time believing we are less? For years, I did just that.                                            

Throughout childhood, crazy as it may seem, I had serious issues with confidence and angst. Rushed into a family of eight, I wasn’t like the rest. While sibs appeared well-boned and healthy, I remained the “runt” with curly locks, skinny self, anxiety and anemia. Panic attacks greeted my teens. Those wide, brown eyes and cheesy smile of mine covered my fears and self-doubting.  What an awkward look of innocence I must have been.                                                                                                               I

Internally desperate and lost, I had one positive; I was academically above average.  With the support of family, teachers, and various mentors, a plan of attack was embraced. They helped open doors to a greater, willing, me. From that point, I could only continue moving forward. Out with the old and in with the new me. Never imagining, I walked in shoes I never entertained would fit.            

With scholarships, grants and loans, I took to college and beyond.  Two Master degrees led to a successful teaching career that spanned over 35 years. With increased motion and encouragement I helped to build a devoted marriage and two empowered daughters. All because of a term that so often defined me: VALIDATION.                                                                                                  

Validation. Recognition or affirmation that a person or their feelings or opinions are valid or worthwhile. The feeling of acceptance (Webster’s dictionary). This term has long been one of survival and living for me. Validation continues to move me forward.                                                         

I have a wealth of friends and family. Yes, I have a sense of confidence, positivity and wit. Together, this mix of qualities have fed my need to be validated. Over and over.                                                          

Where then, does the need for validation become paramount to my being?  Why do I not trust in the feelings and thoughts of others? Why do I tend to use humor and quality conversation to get through tough social situations? Why do I value service to others and gifts as my true love language? Time and trust. It takes time and trust.                                                                                                                             

So long ago I found validation without consciously seeking. The feeling I got when Momma hugged and reassured me that I would successfully graduate from college. The excitement and gratification of my daughters and grandchildren actively wanting me in their lives. When the judge calmly spoke, “I’m sorry for your loss, but know I wish you luck and good health”. The feelings of accomplishment and pride in writing and publishing my first blog. These events and actions led to me enriching and accepting myself. Validation was earned honestly.                                                                                              

Experiences have passed since those days of needing to feel accepted. Examples include:

**The way those needy teens needed my acceptance and reassurance.        

**The way Jennifer and Alison assure me over and over of my strength, courage, and dedication in navigating motherhood, marriage and divorce.                                    

**The way new friends in my current life have given me a sense of value, comfort and calm. Time.     It all takes courage and time.                                                                                                     

Once again I ask you, what word or phrase defines you? What has given you empowerment and dignity? Be as honest as others see you. Gloat a little, glitz a little. Be YOU! Without a doubt, you’ll be amazing! 

Thanks for reading!

What do you remember about that “first job”? Something you slid into with ease and comfort? Countless applications, resumes, interviews ? Whatever the experience, that first hire-me feeling helped to develop and mold you into another counted bean in the world of work. Take a step back, reflect on that formative time for early adulting. 

It may not come as a surprise, regardless, work beyond our lives on the farm was always available and expected. It seemed that if there wasn’t a volunteer opportunity in the community or at church, random babysitting and general cleaning jobs were aplenty. Mom and Pops laid this groundwork early for their eight offspring. Accepting this expectation with no apprehensions or challenged disagreements were a given. Help one another to make lives better. Our team of ten did just that.

Practice and daily duties as an older sibling contributed to my various childcare opportunities in the neighborhood. As early as age 12, I was tending to newborn babies, babblers, preteens and kidlets of all ages and temperments. With $$$ signs in my eyes, I accepted any offers. In all, 12 to 15 individual families benefited my services.

Sitting for kiddos seemed an extension of home life as I knew it. Urge sleepyheads up to greet the day, dress and breakfast them, tidy up dishes and kitchen, play, play and more play until Momma or Poppa Bear returned. Day two, repeat. Busy hands and minds made for smooth adventures and fun.

Earning anywhere from $.25 to $1.00 an hour, I coveted my newfound wealth and responsibilities. Saving, tithing and self-reliance became priorities. Steady jobs on most weekends guaranteed a few jingles in my Mason jar stash.

As was the case, little time was devoted to pajama and birthday parties. Cash became my go to for fun. Makeup sessions, overnighters with girlfriends, hours of gossiping on the party line were minimal. Football, basketball and after game sock hops were seldom in my Friday night entertainment lineup. Rather, Momma’s guidance and support superseded and won out as the right thing to do. Her influence had knocked on my door of adulting. 

By the summer of my 14th year, I had long-term sitting jobs for weeks at a time. Sharing these stints with three of my sisters was expected. Earning $40.00 or more a week, I officially opened a savings account. I began to weekly tithe at church($.25), bought my own clothes and school supplies. With a sense of independence and responsibility, I was helping ease the family budget. Easy peasy as I got paid to essentially play house. How much fun could a girl have? 

Just turning 16, I made application to a local restaurant in town. I immediately got hired for my first “real job”: a carhop at the Farmer’s Daughter Restaurant! Yes, a carhop! Conservatively dressed in a white blouse and shorts, I donned a change apron and waited on drive-up customers. Most were local aquaintances with a few “up north” travelers off the U.S. 10 expressway. Minimal wage was set at $1.25 per hour plus any tips. I gained confidence and satisfaction with those $50.00 paychecks! Early adulting had its perks!

Without pause, I shared my limited wealth. Family first. It was a no brainer to fill our car with gas. At less than $.30 a gallon, it was the least I could offer for use of family transportation. Purchase a birthday or holiday gift for a sib or parent? Of course! Trinkets and whatnots from Gay’s 5 and 10 became simple treasures. Proud of my giving sense, I carried these traits forward.

Pajama and birthday parties have come and gone. Innocent peer gossip and pressures as well. A positive work ethic and giving back became my path to a well-tendered adult. I may not have experienced the life of a typical teen girl, however, little regrets to my roots, development and growth as an adult. Early adulting? Priceless! 

Lessons Learned:

Values instilled in youth carry an open door to adult opportunities. Mom and Pops instilled these early truths resulting in eight independent, hard-working adults. Yea, team of ten!

When we strive to become better than we are, everything around us becomes better too. P. Coelho. Enough said. Amen!

Have a remarkable week and thanks for reading!

Oh those high school years. An open world to newfound material and learning. Reading, writing and arithmetic no more. Time to embrace the challenges of Algebra, Literature, Biology, Latin and the like. Fourteen years and not turning back. Yes, time to forge a path to adulting. Bigger. Brighter. New and improved. An adult world was teasing its way into my life. 

Where would my path lead became the question. With above average grades, I had variety and choice in coursework. What I lacked, however, was confidence. I’m not that smart! I don’t know anything about foreign language. What is this thing called Literature? Would I take the easy road; graduate from high school, all the while grooming a career as a wife/mother? Or rather, challenge myself to a life outside my safe, comfortable farm existence?  

With a sense of inner security, I assumed a high school “degree” in Home Economics would suffice and assure me a bright future as a coupon-clipping housewife and mother. Regardless,  there seemed to be an itch deep inside that needed scratching. I wanted to taste more than what I imagined to be a life of ho-hum and expected.

Not realizing at the time, high school mentors made decisions steering me to a path of education beyond high school. I was “seeded” in upper level classes and placed on the academic/college bound track. Unfamiliar subject matter with little prior knowledge would be challenged and extended. Meekly courageous, I began this road less traveled. 

Peers with a clear vision for college appeared to easily slide into the likes of Geometry, Calculus, British Literature and Physics. Me? Not so much. Confidence issues became my encumbered path. As a result, my coursework consisted of bits of academic challenge supported by easy-peasy trails of common subject matter. Whether I was destined for college or not, I had variety and substance. With friends from both ends of the academic/social spectrum, I often thought of myself as, “best all-around”.

So, what were some of my favorite subjects in high school?” A few stand out like yesterday. Like X and Y and Apple Pie…

First and foremost, I found the challenges of math a passion. Add, subtract, multiply, divide; just refigure them in the correct order and you’ve got any and all things math! As a result, I found Algebra a most favored subject. Solving for “X” and “Y”, ahhh, fascinating and delightful! Plotting and graphing; Heaven! Yes, I believe Algebra became my first lust affair.

Add to this (pun intended), my favored of all teachers, Mr. Tommie Saylor. He was the young, friendly, handsome, coach-like mentor that introduced me to a foreign code of numbers and letters. He made Algebra seem so easy and fun. Thank you Mr. Saylor for opening a new door to exponents and binomials. You were the bomb!

Another field of study I found enjoyable and most familiar was Home Economics. Four years of easy “A”s enhanced my grade point average along with Momma’s expertise in food preparation, sewing and such. At home experiences from her provided a myriad of shortcuts and strategies of make-it-from-what-you-have. With Mrs. Edahl, however, Home Economics had a much different approach. Her lessons were those of rules, regulations and proper temperatures and utensils. There was more to learn than I had imagined.

Edith Edahl was likely the oldest teacher/mentor I ever encountered. Confident, her high-pitched, quivering voice of authority taught homemaker skills by the book. Never without her Hush Puppy pumps, Mrs. E. would Clop, clop, clop, about the room while reciting the good, bad and ugly of canning, stitching, etiquette and becoming a woman. 

Edith knew EVERYTHING! I loved and learned so much. Secrets to setting the perfect table, deveining shrimp, cold water pie crust and fresh apple pie. Learning specific cuts of beef, pork, and veal. Unfamiliar terms as hors d’oeuvre, sirloin, capon, hidden stitch and more. Common sense learning with a few flavors of new. 

And Miss Edith loved me. Often reminded that I looked much like her daughter Ionna, she’d snicker out with, “Two fried eggs on a plate, that’s you and my sweet Ionna.” My puny self lightly giggled in return. After all, there was truth in her assessment. 

Miss Manners may have been aged and retirement ready, regardless, Edith was a wealth of knowledge and etiquette in her own refined way. A welcome gift for our small farming community. 

All in all, a small rural setting for high school was a gift of wonderful preparation for future living. Supportive teachers, a dedicated counselor, along with a personal itch filled with ambition and drive, led to my education beyond high school. College was a challenge, however, scholarship and grant opportunities helped guarantee my success. I took the road less traveled and it made all the difference.

My lifelong teaching career was a result of these initial learned lessons from Tommie, Edith and Mom. Refinement and self empowerment, along with humble beginnings, helped pave the road to a meaningful career in education and parenting. And to think it all started with X and Y and Apple Pie!

Lessons Learned:

Step out of your comfort zone. Never be afraid of challenge. Step out from that Hula-hoop of safe and comfortable. 

When we stop learning, we stop living. Live to learn and Learn to live. Surprise yourself, I dare you!

Thanks for reading!

Autumn:  The third season of the year, when crops and fruits are gathered and leaves fall, in the northern hemisphere from September to November. Oxford Dictionary.

Michigan state motto:  “If you seek a pleasant peninsula, look about you.”

Yes, it appears we are in the midst of a delightful outdoor display with colors ablaze. Conducive temps, precipitation at minimal spurts, and light, abundant light. The ochres, scarlets, ambers and inbetweens. All contribute to Act III of Mother Nature’s show of shows. Our assurance of hope with her breathless scenes of happy, enlightenment and creation. Autumn is like no other in Michigan. 

The show she offers today is the product of her beauty treatment from the deep depths of the stark, colorless, white days of winter. Asleep, but ever planning, she has readied an onstage debut. 

Spring slowly peeks about as Act I provides us her opening of renewal and growth. Buds, blossoms and baby greens pop from their winter slumber. Days become brighter, warmer, anticipatory. All in place for the hype and celebration of Act II, summer solstice. 

Sunshine overload, happy celebrations, “Red sky at night, sailors delight” kind of sunsets. Mother Nature continues her lust for the outdoors and provides us many a day for leisurely walks, swims, picnics and the like. Metaphorically speaking, the middle is always best! Summer is our proof. 

And there you have it. Momma Nature providing us a play of sorts from beginning to end. Slumber, renewal, growth, followed by a slow, continuous mellowing to a return of slumber. Rest and repeat. Just as our seasons change, we too sense personal patterns of renewal and adjustment. 

The year 2020 has been just that, and for many of us, in a magnified sense. Social media appears to have expounded the “curse” of 2020.  We have, for the most part felt a sense of hopeless and helpless. A sense of loss.  Extreme weather patterns, flooding, unprecedented fires, personal health and education concerns, political angst and the list goes on. What more emptiness can we withstand? Spring, summer, fall. Are we ready to face the blustery, cold, unpredictable winter of our sleep? A look at Momma N. may be our reminder that despair can bring new hope. 

In a sense of remorse and atonement, Mother Nature has provided us a curtain call of beauty. What she struggled to birth and raise from the early days of 2020, Momma has finalized her act with a finale of anticipation and beauty. 

Will our curtain call to 2020 be the likes of what autumn has shared with us? A finale of something of awe and that which is good? I dare you to take the bow, the curtain call to end 2020 with applause and cheers. You have made it! Good, bad, or otherwise. You have survived! And it was good! 

As we round the corner of this year of faults and foibles, let’s commit to light. End this year with a lighter take on past, unpleasant actions and events of 2020. Wear the dress backwards as I mistakenly did! Don those unmatched socks for a day of grins and giggles. Drive the car on the red warning of beyond Empty! Yes, by all means, eat dessert first! Be the colors of autumn and delight in your life! Continue to be the star on your stage of life!

Thanks for reading!

Passage into and through those teen years is often arduous and downright scary. The body and mind are in a constant whirl of emotions, physical transformations, awkwardness and doubt. Change on so many levels. What is going on here? I am alone and scared, but of what? Who can I talk to? Will my friends think I’m weird? I am a freak of change! As is often the case, we believe NO ONE shares a commonality in these twists and turns of change. Crazy is real and ever present in our psyche.

I for one, fed these irrational thoughts and ideas throughout puberty. UFO-like topics of the unspoken stirred about my curly topped head. By age 11, I was facing uneducated fears of: unwanted, inappropriate hair, something called “a period”, bras and garter belts, boys and sex. I was naive Plain Jane looking for confident Starlet Sally. 

Reaching sixth grade became  my open door for pre-adulting. I had a date with Momma one spring evening to attend “Girl to Woman”. With uncertainty about this engagement, my 12 year old thoughts revolved around make up, the fine art of manicures, and leg shaves. I envisioned a night of blush, lipstick, nail polish, my own razor, all sponsored by Avon or the like. Free samples! Fun! Refreshments! Momma just smiled and winked her usual approval as we made our way to school.

Entering the gymnasium to echoed, anxious giggles of 50 plus girls and their moms was contagious. We tittered about with gleefulness. Facing us was Miss Briggs, the county appointed school nurse. Accompanying her were a film projector, viewing screen and several metal folding chairs. “Ladies, please take a seat. We are about to get started.” 

Our silliness was quickly abated as we filled the cold, stoic chairs. Momma tossed me a quick smile and wink. This was going to be the best one on one time with Momma ever!

The lights lowered as the projector began its performance. A short animated introduction to a uterus, ovaries, and estrogen provided the support to Nurse B’s presentation. Sponsored in part by Kimberly Clark and the county health department, the basics of menstruation was shared. Information was straightforward and unspirited. My thoughts became a blur of confusion. Mind and body were not tuned or willing to accept this newfound transformation that would soon take place! UGH!

As the lights returned, the gym was silent. I feared looking at my peers or momma. Really? Was all this change about to become ME? As her voice of authority echoed in the large spanse, Nurse Briggs presented an unemotional, well-rehearsed litany of facts regarding the female developmental “process”. With sanitary napkin and elastic belt-like contraption in hand, she proceeded to explain all that was needed to prepare us for our monthly ritual of “shedding”. 

“Girls, menstruation is nothing to fear. It’s a celebration of sorts….that you are now a woman. These are the basics when that time of the month arrives for you. Are there any questions?”

My thoughts continued the blur. This mind and body were not ready or available for womanhood. I was doomed! Disenchanted, I left the evening with my free samples of sanitary pads, and a lacy, pink belt. No cookies. No punch. No cosmetics!

No talk of the finer arts of makeup, nail care or becoming hairstyles. I was not prepared for this! As I joined my peers in silent shock, dismay, or whatever, our comments, giggles and questions abruptly ended. Momma leaned in, gently hugged me and whispered, “It happens to us all. It’s just another fact of life. After a while, it will be nothing but another day.” Her comfort had replaced my fears and it was time to grow from this brief lesson of life. 

All in all, it took my body about two years to reach the capacity of “Girl to Woman”. Curly frocks, puny, flat chested and an absence of hormones, I longed for my blossoming to appear. Twin sisters nearly a year younger had reached this bouquet

before me. Taller and proud, they discovered the world of periods, bras and boys well before me. In essence, they were reaping the garden of grow up before I had plowed the plot! 

Tempting to call myself physically deformed, my garden eventually bloomed during the summer of my 13th year. From that point onward, my adulting continued as a search and rescue operation via sisters, girlfriends, Seventeen and True Confession magazines. Tidbits of fact were often mired with blinding fallacies of beauty secrets and heartthrob gossip. Through it all, however, an adult female emerged.

Alas! There was a silver lining to my inept knowledge of womanhood! Development and maturity into a woman was not as morbid, scary or unique as first imagined. As much as I thought I was so different from my peers, I was truly one in the same.

My monthly reminder has waned and I now enjoy the fruits of emotional and physical maturity. Beautiful daughters, a wealth of common knowledge and the fact that my developing life was NOT unusual, scary or freakish. 

Time and balance played their parts for us all. In return, we are the admirable products of change and ever-evolving life. Maturing to womanhood is as individual as we ourselves create. Once again, Momma was right. “It happens to us all, it’s just a part of life.” Thank you Momma and Thank you, Nurse Briggs. It is beautiful to be a woman!

Lessons Learned

We truly are one in the same. Differences. Individualism. We have minute disparities compared to all that we have in common. 

Imaginations can be helpful and harmful. Sanity and common sense about oneself keep imaginations healthy.

Thanks for reading!

Neighbor. A person or persons who live nearby, normally in a house that is next door, or across the street. Some people share friendships with their neighbors and help them by sharing their tools and help with such things as gardening. Wikipedia. 

Growing up on a small subsistence farm we valued the friendship of neighbors. Favors were scattered, help was abundant, and entertainment was a given. For the most part, I remember oodles of kids walking in and out. As Momma often jibed, “ What’s a few more when you’ve got eight of your own?” Easy come, easy go. We got along as life was simple and good. 

The Similik Family were my favorites. Joe and Lucy were young newlyweds and helped our growing family in the form of daycare. What a gift they provided!

Daddy and Momma were producing kidlets in record time and would not deny any free care and affection offered.  As a result, I was often taken from the fold for days at a time. A padded drawer served as my crib when I wasn’t sandwiched between them at night. Lucy reminds me of these loving moments each time we meet. Godsent and appreciated deeply. Abundant neighborly love. 

Pops Joe was a day worker at Dow Chemical while Momma Lu stayed home to manage their growing family. Within a few years, their three kidlets, Kimberly, Curtis and Tammy, joined our family of eight. We kids kept entertained with farm activities and play. Our mommas shared coffee, smokes, canning secrets, gossip, Avon, and child-rearing advice. All in all, these priceless tools likely kept them sane. 

Another family of neighbors included the Burch crew. Father Pat and wife Dorothy farmed large while raising their three kiddos, Mike, Bill, and dearest, delightful, Emily. Known for his short patience and resounding voice, Pat was easily heard. Loud and clear, we always knew when something was turning sour on their farm.

On the other hand was sweet Dorothy. Always a smile and so very kind, she cooked, she sewed, she drove tractor. No doubt, she raised her family with precious love.

Mike and Bill were older than us kids. Racing their motorcycles and cars up and down our dirt road, they left much to envy and be impressed. Every now and again, these “young men” would come visit for a pick up game of baseball. They knew everything about the game and we did not question.  With 13 kiddos in all, we could almost sport two full teams! Bases made of old rags, shimmied boards for bats, we made do with a small, rubber ball. Game rules and cooperation at its neighborly best.

A year younger than me and most adorable, dear Emily added femininity to our clan of kiddos. Cute, curly-haired, full of giggles, Miss Em was our trophy princess. Definitely the girly girl in the hood. Every now and again, however, she would join us in dirty mud pies, fishing in the ditch, or gathering eggs. Courage and cute, Princess E. possessed both!

Because of their large farm, the Burches often bartered with my dad regarding the business at hand. Pat would bale our hay for winter while Daddy welded and repaired equipment and tools. Farm equipment was costly, thus providing each other planting and harvest support, work was accomplished. Good neighbors and good partners in farming. 

Last of the neighbors that lived within a mile were the Jenkins Family. They lived in the large, simple brick home where Daddy’s family had homesteaded. For the most part, they stayed to themselves. 

Don, the father, was a day worker in construction. I remember him as a heavy smoker and seldom home. He worked when the building trade was booming and suffered when a poor economy forced unemployment. Wife Julia was small, meek, often pregnant, and chief caretaker of their nine children. Simple and plentiful, us 17 youngins, shared sandboxes, orchard fruits, garden vegetables, and tales of pretend. Good neighbors, good kids! 

All in all, we had the good in neighbors. We cooperated together, not with envy, anger or conflict.  We had the right amount of work, ingenuity, and determination.  Within one half mile we shared 23 kiddos of varying ages, sizes and temperaments. The men kept lines of loyalty and assistance open. Mommas kept the phone’s party line open with daily calls of advice and laughs. Helping each other, sharing abundant counsel, in addition to timeless hours of play and mischief, our families were true neighbors. Nothing elaborate. Unassuming yet compassionate. We did have it all! 

Lessons Learned:

Neighbors being neighborly. Priceless. We should all be so fortunate.

Know your neighbors. It’s where peace begins. We knew our neighbors and they knew us. And we liked what we had!

Thanks for reading!

Life for me has been consumed by countless days of children. Multitudes! Seven siblings, endless sitting jobs, 36 years of helping to educate young minds, and the list goes on. Patience, endurance, advice. Given by the bushel, received just as well. 

Recently I was asked, “What is your best advice when it comes to raising children?” Given my life experiences, the expert answer was on the tip of my tongue. 

Oh wait, I had no quick fix of advice. Every child was as different as their name. My varied experiences with all ages, sizes, and temperaments had not allowed just one common hint of guidance. So many personalities and events providing the groundwork for a myriad of counsel and thoughts.  

Time to take a long look at those many adventures of forming and building young minds and hearts. I’ll begin with the two most important humans in my life…

The gift of life twice! Yes, I was blessed to have the pleasures of raising two lovely, empowered daughters. Jennifer and Alison have given me years of joy with a few days of challenge sprinkled here and there. All in all, the pride I carry for this dynamic duo is oftentimes overwhelming. Advice has been seasoned with love all along their path to adulthood. Let’s take a gander.

First and foremost was the birth of exceptional daughter number one, Jennifer Lyn. Born in 1978, I did not have the pleasures of ultrasound, epidurals, and Pampers.  As a result, Jenn was overdue by a few weeks, weighed in at just under nine pounds, and greeted my unmedicated world with a wink and smile. God had rewarded my hours of pain and labor! I was immediately in love!

Returning home with our bundle of goodness, Jennifer continued to awe and inspire. She slept through the night (such a lofty goal we new parents set) within a week, took long naps daily, and seemed to have a true sense of contentment. Life couldn’t be better!

As Jenn grew, so too, did I. We were the best of allies. We traveled, played and grew together. Planting gardens, picking berries, searching graveyards for history, and locating those precious Petoskey Stones just to name a few. Great memories for Jenn, priceless for this blessed momma.

Motherly advice was sprinkled, planted and gathered:

1. “It doesn’t cost anything to be polite.”
2. “Always remember, you have wings to fly. Be whatever you crave, go wherever you desire, because YOU can. Just fly.”
3. “You are climbing a steep mountain. When you get to the top, you will jump over to climb an even higher one. You’ve got this.”
4. “Don’t ever let your head get bigger than your shoulders can support.”
5. “These are choices he is making. You are stronger than you think.”
6. “Do the right thing, because it’s the right thing to do.”

Today, Jenn and I continue a strong bond of mutual trust, respect, and love. I do not hesitate to seek her advice when troubled or short on cognition. She is educated, compassionate, driven and ever evolving. As a momma-llama, Jenn lives each day as a passionate champion of her three kidlets. I couldn’t be more honored or blessed. Yes, God continues his goodness in my bountiful garden.

Second to grace our lives as a family was sweet, exceptional Alison Marie. Born seven years following Jennifer, Miss Ali was easily welcomed and loved by three sets of open arms and hearts. Born nearly two weeks early she debuted full-bodied and lively with less than two hours of labor. At just over seven pounds, Alison assumed the energy that Jenn did not seem to possess (all in a good way!). She loved being awake, entertained, and fed! Walking came early as she independently took to the floors at eight months! Her vocabulary grew exponentially with the encouragement of her best mentor, Jennifer. While in her early school years, she often reminded me, “Mom, today I was Electric! It was a great day!”

Over and over, Alison’s energy and liveliness kept us on our toes. She was always on the move, whether running, singing, dancing, or playing. Everything appeared to come easy for this firecracker. Thank you God for the dynamics of Alison in our lives.

Motherly advice was sprinkled, planted, and gathered:

1. “It doesn’t cost anything to be polite.”
2. “You don’t have to be a follower. Being a lead dog has its benefits. You can do this!”
3. “You don’t have to please anyone but yourself.”
4. “You have such a positive presence in front of others. I admire that in you.”
5. “Remember, you have those wings to fly…wherever, whenever, whomever you want. Just fly.”
6. “You don’t realize how strong you are until it’s the only choice you have.”

While adulting, Alison continues to grow in her intelligent, compassionate, witty, and varied talents. Whether she be writing, counseling, or challenging herself, Alison is a true warrior. I so love her committed life to marriage, family, and God. She continues to be my strength and bond for life. 

I cannot stress enough how humbled I am to be a momma link to these beautiful ladies. Although they share the common genetic bonds, these two can be different as night and day. God offered me two kind souls to nurture, love and appreciate. And that I do! Thank you God for the exceptional life of good! 

Lessons Learned:

What you give, you get back. What you plant, you reap in bountiful ways. Thank you Jennifer and Alison.

Be true to yourself. There’s only one YOU!

Thanks for reading! 

Beagle:  A small breed of hound that has developed primarily as a scent or hunting hound. Possessing a great sense of smell and superior tracking instincts, the beagle is the breed used for detection purposes. The beagle is intelligent. It is a popular pet due to its size, good temper and lack of inherited health problems.- Wikipedia.

Recently, I have taken on the personality of this respected breed for a few reasons. It has become apparent that being compared to this cute, loveable hound is a token of respect and sincere like. Never being compared to any famous being, I am willing to accept this praise and admiration. First, however, a little background. 

Since becoming a single woman just over four years ago, my life has continued to be one of developing change, new adventures, and cautious socializing with the opposite sex. Yes, the dating scene has developed slowly and with slight trepidation. 

For the last year, I have taken to enjoying the company of a sincere, dear, and admirable gentleman. Mr. Bill and I have shared many memories of his children, my children. His marriage, my marriage. His family pets, my family pets. We love them all. The list of shared and the not so common interests keep our relationship building in a forward direction. Mr. B. is slowly earning my trust, as I am with him. 

Bill has been an avid outdoorsman for much of his life. Lake living, precision shooting, hunting and fishing have provided him with worth as a grandpa and human. Listening and learning from these adventures has piqued my interest and limited participation. Inviting change while acquiring new; it’s all fresh and seldom dull. I am growing to enjoy these new found activities. 

Extensive travel has also been a part of our spirited living. Whether short jaunts or lengthy trips to the sunny south, I often drive while Bill navigates, converses and humors me. “I feel safe with your driving. You seem to navigate with ease and have a good sense of direction. Your “beagle-ing” instincts are strong.” Beagle-ing you say?

In a true act of praise and affection, Mr. B. shares my journey instincts and expertise to that of his long held affinity to his canine comrades. Long passed, his beagle buds were aiders and abettors for varmint victories in the wood. Known for their superior hunting and retrieving abilities, Trooper, Sandy and Pretzel provided much pleasure and successful hunting. 

I, too, appear to have a good sense of direction and navigation ability. Whether in unfamiliar territory or solving a dilemma, I am often praised for this innate talent to effectively problem solve and move forward. Accepting this skill, I seldom realized its uniqueness.  

All in all, Bill and I are enjoying this life anew. Mutual respect and trust are building into a future relationship of one. Beagle-ing is just a cup of goodness I bring to the mix. Experts concur that beagles are intelligent, good tempered, and void of inherited health issues. “Ruff, ErRuff! Aaahrooooh!”  I can live with these facts and love it!

Lessons Learned:

A dog IS man’s best friend. I have always found love with my canine company. Taking on a few of their champion traits only add to my affinity! Ruff!

Relationship building never gets old.  Mr. Bill and I are in a most-favored time of our lives. Renewing, relaxed and retired! 

Thanks for reading! 

I was born and christened Josephine Anne Foldesi. A bold, significant name in appearance to my timid, younger me. Rather petite in stature, oodles of curls, and saucer-like eyes, I had a title that signified SOMEBODY. A long title for a petite, uncertain girl. Named after my father Joseph, I was the second daughter of his eight children.

Growing up in a small farming community, I knew no other Josephines. I felt as though I stood out in every social situation. It seemed that whenever “Josephine” was called out, eyeballs aplenty glued themselves to skinny, quiet, me. I so longed to be Debbie, Susan or Natalie. Easy, common, normal. 

As early as first grade, I remember troubles with Josephine. My teacher, Sister Mary Adolpha, often pulled my ears for not writing my name fast enough. Evidently I was slowing the class as I etched my identity on those assignment papers. Without hesitation, nicknames became a necessity for classroom survival. 

“Joey” became my new handle. Siblings, relatives, and teachers made it easy to find comfort with this identity. All the while, I was loving this pet name. It wasn’t until the birth of the fourth child, a brother, that troubles resurfaced. Yes, the first of two brothers, Joseph junior, became Daddy’s new namesake. He would remain “Jojo” until the start of school.

My new title then became “Josie”. Easy and quick to spell, I was one with happy teachers. Momentarily, that is. Troubles with “Josie” soon emerged. 

Sandwiched between Jojo and myself were twin sisters Anne and Mary. Not identical in looks, teachers often mistook Jojo and myself as the twins. “Oh those two, how cute, Josie and Jojo, twins! And they look so much alike!” Yikes!  What was Josie to do? I often referred to this time with the likes of a past television sitcom, “Newhart”. 

Starring Bob Newhart, the show took place in a small, quaint Vermont town. Three backwoodsman brothers lived in the same village and added a bit of odd humor to the weekly show. Named Larry, Darryl, and an older brother Darryl, these often clueless boys added to the show’s enjoyment. Jojo and Josie. Darryl and Darryl. Holy Crikey, would I be doomed for non-identity and confusion?

From Josephine, to Joey, to Josie, I morphed into “Jo” throughout high school and most of my adult life. Easily misspelled “Joe”, I would lightly joke and move forward with life. It was the only way to travel with my bag of “What’s your name again?”. 

As motherhood and teaching experiences grew, so did new coined nicknames. “Mommajo” and “Jomomma” were my two favorites. Daughters Jennifer and Alison, their many friends, and my classroom students joyfully shared these surnames with me. I delightfully accepted and used them!

Today, I often respond to “Gramma” or “Grammajo”. Those I am most endeared to call me “Joey” or “Josie”. I answer, I chuckle, I go with it! Life is good with Miss Josephine. 

Lessons Learned:

A name is your first identity. Whether it sets you apart or melds with others, there is only one YOU. 

Enjoy your name, face, and what makes you unique. I now like the name Josephine. It’s an honor to own a name that had a reputation of giver and reputation of respect. Thank you Momma and Daddy for Miss Josephine Anne!

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FEAR: An unpleasant emotion caused by the belief, real or imagined, that someone or something is dangerous.  

How could one seemingly, trivial event flip into a lifetime of fear and trepidation? I have lived this challenge my entire adult life. Forever engrained. Forever threatening. One incident, multiple attempts to battle and overcome. 

Early summer of 1967. I had crossed the threshold of growing up. Another season of multiple tasks on the farm would be. Gardens, canning, hay baling, and 4-H entries at the county fair to name a few. Memories of innocence and lazy days would get pushed aside for a pre-adult privilege: Driver Training. Simple and accomplishable as opportunities on the farm provided the needed practice behind the wheel. I was ready for adulting.

Age eligible, I signed for the first session of early June. Two qualified, familiar coaches/teachers would provide the mandatory six weeks training in and out of the classroom to mold us into safe, conscientious drivers. Included with book work and tests were experiences in parallel parking, tire changing, driving standard and stick vehicles, and getting stuck in and out of sand. A successful two hour driving experience on major highways wrapped up our training package. 

It had been arranged that my paired partner, BethEllen and two other girls would accompany coach/teacher Mr. Barnes to Beth’s family cottage for an afternoon lunch, swim, and of course, an hour each of driving on unfamiliar highways. Our final feat to become one with the road. 

Just before noon, we arrived at the cottage. A cookie cutter bungalow on a cookie cutter lake. Mr. Sun and temps provided a backdrop for the perfect day of fun. We hurriedly jumped into our suits as we dashed for the shimmering cool. 

Coach Barnes made the first dive into the waist high waters. The three girls giggled their way in with no trepidation. Cautiously, I took to sitting on the dock’s edge, testing the temperature with my toes. 

“Whadya’ mean, you can’t swim?  I seasoned farm girl like you? Can’t swim eh?  Coach B. was teasingly attempting to humor me. 

With a sheepish grin and giggle, I added, “Ah no, I can’t swim. We don’t spend a lot of time doing fun things like swimming. I’m jus’ gonna sit here for awhile and get some sun. I’m just fine with…”

“Well now you’ll be able…” as Mr. Barnes grabbed my ankles and pulled me into the deep, blue abyss of terror. Unprepared and totally helpless, I was flailing underwater while Mr. B. held firm to the top of my head. I was doomed! 

Somehow, I managed to wrestle myself away and reach the top of the water. Breathless and filled with fear, I was gulping while gaining balance in chest high waters. Greeted with three laughing friends and Mr. Barnes’ deep voice of reason, I found it difficult to join in the amusement.  “Oh come on now, this is the best way to learn to swim. Just jump in. Your instincts will take over.” I was not convinced. 

I was out of that water as quickly as I had been yanked in. Off to the cottage to change clothes. I was done. I was defeated. I was a failure. Gathering my composure, I stayed clear of the lake while calming my heart and head. Bits of teasing and challenge would not change my mind. Needless to say, our trip home was uneventful. Feeling embarrassed for my incompetence, I did not share this life-altering experience with anyone. 

Although it has been over 50 years, my summer of ‘67 continues to haunt my courage and strength. Whenever I get near a pool or large body of water, this near-drowning experience never escapes me. A bottomless pit with no safe plan.

Recently, however, while pooling in the pleasant waters of the sunny south, I had a “Eureka” sort of moment.  While encouraging my calm, a dear friend asked, “Have you ever forgiven Mr. Barnes for what he did?” As crazy as it may have seemed, that thought had never challenged my fear. Time to rethink and move beyond.

Slow forward through the winter of 2020. Countless friends and family have attempted to allay my irrational thoughts with their patience and strategies to reduce my anxiety. Hold on, as I take another deep breath. “Just inhale deep and slow. Calm your heart, Joey. Let go and let those fears release. Just float. Float. Float. You can always stand up. The bottom is there.” I have heard and repeated this mantra countless times. My trepidation of water is slowly fading. 

Yes, Mr. Barnes, I forgive you for misjudging my competence in water. What you thought as fearless fun, I did not. What you assumed of me, I was not. Your act of whatever was not appreciated or funny. We all make mistakes. I forgive you. 

Facing and crossing that threshold of fear continue to overwhelm me at times. Slow and steady, I am gaining a sense of security with water no higher than my chest. I can stay afloat with minimal support and open my eyes. Not a great amount of improvement for some, but for me, empowerment and strength! I can and will learn…to swim!

Lessons Learned:

“The act of forgiveness takes place in our own mind. It really has nothing to do with the other person.” Louise Hay. Likely innocent and not intended to harm, Mr. Barnes will never know the impact of his actions. Rest in peace Mr. B. and know you are forgiven. 

“Everything you want is on the other side of fear.” Jack Canfield.  Jump the fire. Stretch your comfort zone. The good is on the other side. 

Thanks for reading!