Find the Good in the Past

Every year, no matter what kind of year it's been, there are those who are glad to see it all come to a close. Of course, 2020 and 2021 have certainly tested our grit, but I, for one, never want to see time pass. It just puts me closer to the grave, and frankly, I'm happy right here.

We sometimes forget that we all have different tolerance levels. What might look like darkness to one, might look like light at the end of a tunnel to another. What’s intolerable to some, might be a piece of cake to others. Here's a look back on my year and my wishes for you in 2022.

In January 2021, amid all the fear and misinformation, I received my first COVID-19 vaccine, while also learning that a friend had the dreadful virus. I’m grateful that together with distancing and wearing a mask, science has kept me safe from harm.

In February 2021, Mel and I watched as my neighbor’s dog brutally attacked her. I’m grateful that we were there to divert the dog’s attention so our neighbor could escape. I’m grateful we were able to help her.

In March 2021, before she was eligible for the vaccine, I lost a friend to COVID-19. I mourn her loss, but I’m so grateful to have known her – she was nothing but fun, eagerness, and a ball of energy. Her influence taught me the value of living; of being in the moment. Her passing and the passing of my sister in 2017 also influenced a decision I would later make.

In April 2021, a victim of COVID-19 and its new virtual reality, my beloved Crafting Sistas met for the last time. I’m grateful for the nearly 11-years we spent together each month, supporting one another, laughing, appreciating, creating, and loving. It was a great ride.

In May 2021, we lost a long-time friend who had been suffering with cancer for many years. We have about 35-years of memories shared with this friend and are grateful those times spent together far outweigh the circumstances of his untimely death.

In June 2021, a visit to the emergency room left me grateful to the salesperson from Seacoast Air-Conditioning, who was in the middle of giving me an estimate for a new unit when I suddenly fell ill, for staying with me until Mel arrived.

In July 2021, after an extended period of ugly estrangement, I was reunited with someone I love very much. I’m beyond grateful to have this person back in my life.

In August 2021, I was diagnosed with a chronic abdominal ailment that will haunt me forever. I’m grateful that, once again, science and watching my diet make it possible for my condition to be treatable.

In September 2021, amid the travel chaos caused by COVID-19 and with sciatica issues plaguing me, Mel and I traveled to Jackson, Wyoming, where we hiked more than 70-miles in the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone National Park. There are no words that fully describe my gratefulness for being able to take this trip and seeing these wonders of nature.

In October 2021, financially fearful and cautious of what the future holds, I retired. Although I enjoyed what I was doing and consider my former “boss” to be a very close friend, I no longer wanted to sit behind a desk, literally on-call for someone else. I actually made this decision back in March after the passing of a friend. I am eternally grateful to my husband for his support in my decision.

In November 2021, I came to a much sought-after realization. It’s been a bit more than nine-years since my mother passed away. I’ve spent those years reminiscing about our holidays and how Thanksgiving was Mother’s high holy day. That’s the holiday we all came together - no matter what -- and spent practically the entire afternoon at the dining room table, feasting on Mom’s delicious meal, the voices of the three sisters going up two octaves causing everyone else to go tone-deaf, laughing, joking, playing jokes on one another, listening to Dad’s tales of the past, Mom gifting all the girls her handmade cross-stitched ornaments of the year, and then enjoying Mom’s scrumptious pecan and pumpkin pies. For nine-years I’ve ached for that same feeling of contentment to return to my heart. For nine-years I’ve blamed myself for not being the glue replacement – knowing that Mom was the glue that held us all together. For nine-years I’ve cried about lost traditions. Then, it was a line in a Hallmark movie that actually helped me see the light. Yes, a Hallmark Christmas movie. It was something like, “You’ll always have the memories of those family traditions in your heart, but you can create new memories, too.”

This holiday season has been the best I’ve had since Mother passed away. I didn’t spend one minute of my time wishing or hoping for a Thanksgiving like we used to have or trying to recreate Christmas from years gone by. I have those memories to hold on to and I’m forever grateful. This year I let go and I let it all happen organically and it was fabulous. Thanksgiving at my son’s was the three of us in the kitchen preparing our non-turkey meal, crafting up some pet-paw ornaments together, and decorating for Christmas together. It was, by far, the best!!

Looking beyond the fact that we continue to battle COVID, December has been a dream come true. Mel and I went to some parties, met up with someone I love in St. Augustine, hosted my annual cookie exchange, paid it forward a time or two, celebrated a friend’s birthday, and then the three of us enjoyed Christmas together. No pressure to recreate past traditions or even create new ones, no sadness on my part, and no regrets.

So, as we get ready to close the 2021 chapter of our lives, rather than looking forward to its end, I hope you can look back on the year and find the good in it. These past two years have been a lot – no doubt. But they are also what you choose to make of them. We have each other and we have faith, hope, laughter, and love. Allow yourself to lean on one another. Be kind to yourself and be kind to others.

Cheers to a fabulous 2022 – whatever that might be for you.

-- Sydney

 

 

Gratitude Journal, Nov. 7, 2020 The Angels in the Tree

 Nov. 7, 2020

This is Angel Oak Tree in John's Island, South Carolina. It's a magnificent tree that's estimated to be 450-500 years old.

My big sister and I were planning to visit it back in August 2017 when we were going to also be at the very spot of total darkness during that year's eclipse.

That trip just wasn't to be, but my husband took me to see it two-weeks ago and I'm ever so grateful to have finally had the opportunity to stand in its shadows.

The tree sits among millions of other oak trees on a small island off the coast of Charleston. It's an unassuming location on a one-lane dirt road that could easily be missed if you're not paying attention. It makes you wonder how it was even discovered. It's far from the grandiose entrance that I expected, after seeing what I now know have been enhanced photographs of the tree.

But as soon as my eyes locked on Angel, I simply broke down and spent the next hour channeling my sister, walking throughout all of Angel's low-hanging branches, placing my hands on her bark, listening to the wind blow through her leaves, whispering to her my appreciation, and leaving her a few of my tears.

We spend as much time as possible camping, hiking, and bike riding. I love seeing nature in all its glory; the beach, sunsets, rainbows, the mountains, leaves turning in the fall, the shape of boulders, rainfall, rocks on riverbeds, and even the force of a hurricane -- all of it leaves me breathless every single day. Nature brings me joy.

As a result, I pick up pinecones, rocks, leaves, shells, and sticks off the ground to bring home to enjoy forever. Those little "trinkets of nature" are a constant reminder of the beauty that stands before us each and every day.

While visiting Angel, I picked up some of her twigs off the ground and immediately saw a way to enjoy those twigs and honor my sister.

I'm so grateful for sight, not only in my eyes but in my heart -- to see and appreciate the beauty that is nature.

Gratitude Journal, Nov. 6, 2020 Thoughtfulness

 Nov. 6, 2020

"They" (whomever they are) say we shouldn't be grateful for material things.

I once saw this quote, "Don't make life about owning stuff."

And, while I understand what is actually meant by that, on the surface, I have to disagree -- and that's what my own gratefulness is all about today.

Things make our lives easier, they bring us joy, they help us manipulate through our daily lives. Things are what clothe us and help us sleep. Things drive our economy, and it's because of things that most of us are lucky to be employed. Oftentimes, it's things that make a person proud of the obstacles he/she has overcome, symbolizing not wealth, but self-confidence and self-assuredness.

Things can and do make us grateful.

Today, I am grateful for this little turkey in the photo.

Two friends gave her to me as a gift -- not for my birthday, not for Christmas, not for any reason other than 'just because.'

To me, that means I was in their thoughts and in their hearts at the time they saw this sweetie on the shelf. If you think about it, that's very powerful.

Thoughtfulness! It's a super-power that can change the world for the better!

Never let your appreciation for a friendship go unrecognized, but also remember to appreciate those moments you learn that you're a part of their thoughts.

I'm so grateful for the friendship of these two people and the joy they bring to my life.

Gratitude Journal, Nov. 5, 2020 Sacrifice Leads to Best Life

 Nov. 5, 2020

More times than not, gratitude stems from one "small" gesture of kindness, understanding, or even sacrifice. But my guess is that you can usually trace that gesture back to something so much more substantial.

This morning my heart is filled with love for a person with whom I've had a relationship for about 38-years. This person has often reminded me of my "roots," has talked me down from ledges, and has never, ever not provided me with words of encouragement. (I realize the use of a double negative there, but it's the best use of those words for stressing the heart-felt appreciation.)

And now this person is willing to make a sacrifice for me that will provide me the opportunity to live my best life.

It isn't necessary for me to go into any additional detail, but it is important to know that the things for which we are to be grateful are all around us. Sometimes we have to stop and smell the roses, so to speak, in order to realize or see those things that make our lives better. And sometimes it's the unprecedented sacrifice of a friend.

Tell me about your gratefulness.

Gratitude Journal, Nov. 4, 2020 Dedicated Parents

 Today I will begin a journey of gratitude. I am not at all a religious person, but I have always been filled with much gratitude. Perhaps I don't voice it enough.

I am a firm believer that your heart, your soul, and your head, can be filled with goodness and gratitude with or without religion. Religion, in and of itself, does not make a person good. I believe the true measure of goodness comes from a person's actions. And today I begin my journey by sharing something I wrote back in 2015 regarding the goodness of my parents.

I would love for you to come along with me on my journey and share your gratefulness, as well.

"Nov. 4, 2015 -- Today I am grateful for the maturity to know and appreciate that my parents, both of them, did the best they could with what they had and what they knew during the decades we were born and in the small rural areas in which we lived.

I am also grateful, though it was hard for them to do it, that they relocated from Southern Illinois to Miami where I was raised. I am grateful for my upbringing, that I did not miss the life lessons of my parents, and grateful for their daily guidance still today."

I'm so grateful to have come from two people whom were dedicated parents and grandparents.

Mirror, mirror on the wall...

Tomorrow is seven-years since my mother passed away, and in her honor, I’m going to tackle things with some light humor and take you on a short journey through my life with her special quotes. In fact, we’ve all heard them. Most of us have even spoken them.

Mommyisms.

Those things your mother said that most likely weren’t even true, but when she said it, her voice rang with the authenticity that only a mother can procure. Right?

Like, “If you eat a seed, a tree will grow in your tummy.” Or “There’s enough dirt in those ears to grow potatoes.” And the dreaded “If you tell me one more ‘story’ Sydney Lea, your nose is going to grow like a carrot.”

I’m not kidding when I tell you that as a very small child, I was constantly looking in the mirror to see if there were any signs of vegetables growing out my ears!

You all know how much I love and miss my mother. So, I thought it would be fun to shed some light on a few of my mother’s quotes that may explain why I am who I am today. I’m sure you’ve heard them or at least some version of these “mommyisms”.

We’ll start with this: My mother absolutely hated to hear my younger sister and me whine, and we weren't allowed to mope. In fact, forget about crying, too.

Whatever the circumstances, we were expected to "dry it up."

"Pick up your lip or someone's going to step on it."

“Quit your bellyaching!”

"Stop crying, or I'll give you something to cry about!"

Naturally we didn't want that last one to happen, because that would mean getting hit on the behind with the dirty fly swatter.

And who wants that to happen? Yuck! Trust me, that fly swatter served a duel purpose. Growing up in Miami without air-conditioning meant the windows were always open.

Mother wasn’t the kind of person to use the “I’m going to give you until the count of three” line, nor the “Just wait until your father gets home” line. My mother handled things. Period.

When I wanted something she wouldn’t let me have, or I wanted to do something that she wouldn’t give me permission to do, I’d fold my arms in front of me and pout. I often heard, "You can get glad in the same pants you got mad in, young lady."

My mom’s "The world doesn't owe you a thing" taught me that the sooner I take responsibility for my actions, the better off I'd be.

Do you remember after getting in trouble for doing something you knew you shouldn’t have been doing, saying to your mother, “Well, everyone else was doing it” ??

And her response would be, "If your friends jumped off the bridge, would you?"

Of course, when my mother would ask me that question, I wanted to ask her, “That depends, Mom. Who else is going?” and “What are they wearing?"

Ha ha ha

But a level head prevailed, which kept me from actually being pushed off that bridge.

Mother also said, "There's no sense in crying over spilled milk." That's a lesson that, to this day, I still haven’t learned. I've just never been able to turn my emotions off and on like a water faucet – ‘though I sure wish I could.

Another memory I have is when I wanted to have my ears pierced. Mom said, "If God had wanted you to have holes in your ears, he would have put them there himself." So, every time I asked her if I could get my ears pierced, she said “No.”

If you know me, then you know my ears are pierced, and I didn’t wait until I was an adult to do it. Being a do-it-yourself kind of gal (learned through Girl Scouting with my mom as my leader for many years), and although I was only 13-years old, I simply got some ice, froze my earlobes one at a time and poked a sewing needle and thread right through them. I was petrified when I couldn't get one of my ears to stop bleeding -- but that "don't cry over spilled milk" thing sure came in handy at the time.

Here’s the thing, though: From my earliest memories, I knew that the same woman who tanned my hide with that disgustingly dirty fly swatter also had my back. Always!

She was proud of every one of my accomplishments; from learning how to play the flutophone in elementary school to becoming the editor of a social magazine and everything in-between. She was also proud of me during failures.

Mother played a huge role in why I was always able to get so much done in so little time. When I’d tell her my plans, she’d always reply, “You’re going to do wonders and eat green cucumbers.” (That happens to be my favorite Julia mommyism.) She had incredible faith in me; that I’d accomplish whatever I set out to do.

Mom also taught me that "Into every life a little rain must fall, but if you have a good umbrella and a tube of red lipstick, you can get through anything." That's a life lesson that I hope I've passed on to my son (except maybe for the red lipstick part). (And now you know why my lips are always red.)

She taught me by example just how important it is for my own son to know there is always someone there rooting for him; someone who loves him unconditionally.

For her birthday in 2011, I gave her a book about the kind of love that was shared by the two of us. In it was a quote that quickly became one of her favorites:

“But if I will love, then I will find I have touched another life, and that’s something. Something worth leaving behind.”

Not long after my mother passed away, I bought a small sign I saw in the window of a gift shop.

It says, “Mirror mirror on the wall, I am my mother afterall.”

Big shoes to fill. I want so much for that to be true, because she was the BEST and there are far worse things than being like her. Right?

It's Not The End of the Road. It's the Beginning of Dual Income.

Smack in the middle of vacation season, today I applied for my right to my money that's been set aside by my own Uncle Sam out of my paychecks for my retirement for the past 49-years. How sweet of him.

Vacation season? Well, isn't that normally when the sun's to our backs as we linger with toes in the sand and conjured dreams of retirement? So, it's only fitting that today's the day I begin making my way to fulfilling that dream. 

But it wasn't all a party this morning as I stood in line with at least 60 other people, waiting to see a Social Security professional. Like a fool, instead of celebrating my additional income that will begin in November, I got caught up in all these thoughts of when I was in high school. 

Like, when did this happen? What the hell? 

Just yesterday I was trying out for the flag corp. In fact, just yesterday I got in trouble for wearing my skirt too short and had to be picked up from school by my dad. (Whom, by the way, thought I looked great and thought the dress code was too firm. -- Some things never change.) Yesterday I walked out of my English class, because the teacher was leading the students in a heated debate about the Vietnam conflict. I didn't think that was the place to be talking about war. So, I left. Yesterday my big sister was teaching me how to put on panty hose. Yesterday I was making plans for the annual Spirit Week that culminated with a great football game and a fun Homecoming dance. Yesterday I auditioned for a part in the senior play, and got it! Yesterday I skipped my typing class, because "I'm never, ever going to be some man's secretary." Yesterday I posed for my senior photo in the yearbook. Yesterday we voted on our class song, "Wooden Ships" by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. Yesterday I was spending my summers at camp in Leesburg. Yesterday my girlfriends and I were inseparable. 

Yesterday I could eat ANYTHING!

Yesterday I didn't have a care in the world. 

Yesterday things were easy. 

So, there I am standing in line at the local Social Security office and instead of having a private celebration, I'm having what I think is a very public mini-breakdown, tears streaming down my face.

What the hell?  Right?

"Pull it together, Sydney!" I say to myself. "This isn't about your mortality. It's simply about getting what's rightfully yours!"

And then I'm suddenly reminded that when you think you're at the end of something, it usually means you're at the beginning of something else.

So, my new beginning, temporary 'though it will be, is having a duel income. How cool is that?

Montana, Wyoming, and Utah, here we come!

I plan to continue to work full-time for a couple of years. 

Afterall, I still have what it takes to be really good at whatever I do. 

I still have it in me to be viable. 

I still enjoy working. 

So why not? 

And you're never too old to set a new goal or to live a new dream.

Besides, how many times can you clean out your closet?

When I do finally retire, I'm going to get up early in the morning and drive around really slowly so I can make everyone late for work, and I'm going to do my grocery shopping at 5:15, so I can drive crazy all the worker bees who stop in for a few things before heading home.

Just kidding.

Socialism is a scareword they have hurled at every advance the people have made in the last 20 years. Socialism is what they called public power. Socialism is what they called social security. Socialism is what they called farm price supports. Socialism is what they called bank deposit insurance. Socialism is what they called the growth of free and independent labor organizations. Socialism is their name for almost anything that helps all the people.

HARRY S. TRUMAN, speech, October 10, 1952

Should any political party attempt to abolish social security, unemployment insurance, and eliminate labor laws and farm programs, you would not hear of that party again in our political history.

DWIGHT D. EISENHOWER, letter to Edgar Newton Eisenhower, November 8, 1954

Facing the Unknown

The very last words I ever thought I'd hear my husband say, and seriously mean them, were uttered by him today as the nurse wheeled him into the OR for biopsies on some lymph nodes that look suspicious.

"I feel like I'm facing a firing squad."

My heart sank.

The unknown. Uncertainty. Randomness. Fate. 

Regardless of the name given to it, this force can alter our lives in the blink of an eye. Whether we're aware of it or not, it permeates all aspects of our lives. It affects our mood, how we treat our family and friends, and our anxiety levels.

Simply put, the unknown wreaks havoc.

Everything is humming along perfectly - job/work, family, relationships - when suddenly you're blind-sided with an unexpected issue. Like they say, "It's always something, right?"

Annoyances pop up all the time; testing our patience. The car breaks down on the very day you're starting a new job. Horrific traffic gets between you and an important appointment. The cable goes out while you're watching that one football game you've been waiting for all season.

That's all small stuff when it's compared to life's unexpected curveballs; the passing of a loved one, a natural disaster, or being faced with your own health problem.

At the very moment that my husband said those eight words, I realized that regardless of the outcome of today's tests, our "normal" life together ceases to exist and will be replaced by something many people call the "new normal."

Separately and together, we are facing a major change in our lives. To get to this point, it has already been a rather long journey; months of visits with doctors as far away as 120-miles, blood tests, invasive examinations, drug therapy, and x-rays of every type.

My husband's never had a single health issue. This "unknown" has been eating him up. Hearing him say those eight words, well frankly, made my heart stop. As the love of my life was wheeled away and I was told to settle into the waiting room, the hallway got longer, the lights went dim, and I became consumed in the beast, myself. The Unknown. 

We are a partnership. He's my confidant, my advisor, my best friend, and the person I go to with all my trouble.  And - I am his.

We are in this together, always. The plan is to continue to grow old together, holding hands and sitting in rockers on the front porch. We've been together more than 45-years. It ain't over, yet.

I've learned much from the passing of my father, then my mother, and then most recently my sister. But health scares like this tend to force us to evaluate and then reevaluate all that is important to us. 

My husband, to put it simply, is a really good man. He has integrity and character, is fair and kind, exudes confidence and courageousness, and shares his life with me. 

This Friday the unknown will also cease to exist. The road to creating our "new normal" with a plan for handling the outcome of all the testing will be paved.

I'm grateful for his strength, and for him seeing the strength in me. Together we will accept our new normal and conquer our fears.

Words Matter -- This time, in a good way

At one point in all of our lives, we've been told by our parents, teachers, clergy, and others, that words matter. It's usually in the aftermath of something horrific happening as a result of throwing insults at or bullying others.

But this morning my husband handed his phone to me so I could read an email that had been sent to him by an old high school friend; someone with whom we haven't been in touch in many years. The email was actually intended for me, but she didn't have my contact information - so she went through my husband in hopes of reaching me.

There is no need for me to go into her exact words, but please know that she inspired me to be all I could be today. Her words made all the difference in the world to me -- today. 

Those of you who know me, also know that I lost my sister nearly a year ago. Facebook reminds me of this everyday, while it automatically shows me photos I posted of her during the month of her sudden illness. And you also know that I fall into slumps because of my 'aloneness' since she's been gone.

I can't say that our friend's words pulled me out of my "slump," but I can say that sometimes -- when you least expect it -- there's someone who comes out of nowhere and has a positive influence on your day. Maybe even without meaning to or even knowing.

This is a particularly hard week. On the 23rd, it will be a year since I watched my sister open her eyes for the last time and take her last breath. It will be a year since I've seen her beautiful smile and heard her soft and calming voice.

Locally, everyone sees me out and about, putting on the happy face they all expect to see. It would probably be very shocking for them to learn where I am in my head most of the time. Most people put a time limit on grief and the sadness that ensues after the loss of a loved one. Most people see themselves as helping by avoiding the topic. Most people don't really know or want to know how to help.

The truth is that in this mature adult life I am now living, I have learned how to cocoon myself in order to hide what I'm going through. And in that cocoon, I try to think away the pain. By that I mean that I keep myself busy -- usually in my craft studio. I know that's unhealthy, but to be honest, I'm afraid that if I allow myself to breakdown, I'll be forever broken. 

I'm lonely and I'm heartbroken, but I'm also very angry about her death. I blame this country's failing healthcare system; a system that doesn't really care about the health of the people paying into it, but rather it cares only about its profits.

I'd rather be numb. I wish I could be numb.

I miss my big sister. Without her, I feel like a bird whose wings have been clipped. She was my best friend, and like my mother, she was on the Sydney cheerleading squad. When those positive voices leave your life, your soul becomes empty.

This morning, my friend's words lifted me and reminded me of things my sister used to say to me. My friend didn't know my sister, didn't know about my loss, didn't know anything -- and still doesn't. She felt compelled to reach out to me for other reasons, and her words motivated me to "do wonders and eat green cucumbers" (as my mother used to say). 

I did cocoon myself today, but also completed quite a few projects. I know I'll be in my cocoon for the next few weeks. So, if any of you reading this are local friends, please know that if I don't seem to be "myself" for a few days -- I really am.

There's Nothing Like Alone Time with Your Son. Thanks, SpaceX!

Anyone who's lived in Florida since at least the 1960s has a story related to Cape Canaveral, NASA, the space program, and launches. 

Yesterday's launch of the SpaceX Falcon Heavy was nothing short of spectacular, historic, and a bit quirky at the same time. My son and I spent the day waiting for that final countdown that was delayed three times -- but was well worth the wait.

Standing as tall as a 20-story building, the Falcon Heavy awaited its debut against a backdrop of beautiful blue skies and an equally beautiful aqua ocean as hundreds of thousands of people gathered for the long-awaited maiden voyage of the world's most powerful rocket.

(Photo borrowed from SpaceX website.)

But it was so much more!
Yesterday meant the world to me, but to get there, please allow me to share these stories:

My own first memory of anything having to do with space goes all the way back to 1961, and I remember it like it happened just this morning. My family's Sunday routine always included going to church, coming home to a big dinner of fried chicken, then going out for a Sunday drive in my parents' convertible. My younger sister and I would usually fall asleep. After a couple hours of driving around (maybe even all the way to downtown Miami), we'd go home to "breakfast supper" (eggs and bacon), do the dishes, and then we'd all watch The Wonderful World of Disney together. After that, it was time for bed. Sunday was family day.

But on this one particular Sunday in 1961, we took a much later drive and went out for dinner. We never ate at restaurants! Mother's cooking was all we needed! This must have been a special occasion; I don't remember. But I do remember that on our drive home, with the convertible down and the sun setting, I began pointing to the stars and telling my parents the names of the constellations we could see, how far away the moon was, and the names of the planets in our solar system. My mother exclaimed, "Sydney, you're going to be the first female astronaut!"

Oh my gosh, I remember being so excited by her words and by the thought of someday traveling to the moon. I remember getting good grades when we studied the heavens in school. I remember really wanting to be an astronaut.  (Of course, for those of you who know me today, you know how fearful I am of flying, so at some point – becoming an astronaut wasn’t an option.) But it was great knowing that my mom thought I could do it.

For my birthday in 1961, my mother gave me a gift of being on the Skipper Chuck Show. This was a live daily children’s show in Miami that had a waiting list a mile long. My TV debut was scheduled for Feb. 20, 1962. I waited patiently as the days slowly moved towards February. Finally, the day arrived and it was time to be on Skipper Chuck!  But it was also the day John Glen roared into space, circling the globe three times, before returning home.

I had been preempted by the first American astronaut to orbit Earth! 

Ha ha ha

Not me on the Skipper Chuck Show!!

And so began my entry into the world of space nerdiness. From that point forward, we watched every single launch, moon walk, space walk, and landing from the comfort of our living room in Miami.

We all know where we were and what we were doing when Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon. We mourned at the loss of life when the first manned Apollo exploded during a test, killing three astronauts. We sat glued to our televisions and radio sets as lives were in the balance when Apollo 13's oxygen tank ruptured.

Soon after we moved to Fort Pierce, the first Space Shuttle flight launched. And, since these rockets were so big and powerful, we were able to see the launches from our new home.

We took our brand new pop-up camper to a campground right near our home, 

spent a couple days testing it out and watched the very first Space Shuttle launch on April 12, 1981. 

Right in the middle of the lower photo, you can barely see the trail left behind by that first Shuttle launch.

Never taking the space program for granted, we watched every single launch -- including the fateful launch of the Jan. 28, 1986 Space Shuttle Challenger and the devastating reentry explosion of the Space Shuttle Columbia on Feb. 1, 2003.

Only a year before my father’s life was eaten away by Alzheimer’s disease, the family met in Titusville to watch John Glen, at the age of 77, return to space aboard the Shuttle Discovery on Oct. 29, 1998.  Overcome with emotion, my father cried as the shuttle moved away from earth. He cried as if John Glen was a personal friend. He cried because John Glen represented a re-birth for the Greatest Generation. 

And we all cried with him.

About 30-seconds after the launch, we felt the earth move from the force of the boosters.

My big sister also had a love of the space program, and when her job transferred her to Titusville, she became engrossed in it. She was so lucky, because she lived and worked less than a mile from the Indian River, and right across the river at that very point was Cape Canaveral and its launch pads. She would call me before each launch and we’d "watch them together.” Me from my home in Fort Pierce, and she from the best vantage point of the state. She even bought a bumper sticker that looked like a NASA employee placard, hoping her classmates attending their reunion would think she worked for NASA. She called me afterward to tell me that no one even noticed.

Ha ha ha 

Suffice to say that since its inception, the space program has been a part of the lives of my family.
Watching yesterday's historic launch was an incredible experience. It was so much fun totally geeking out with my son. But it was more than history in the making and more than science and technology.

It was me and my 42-year old son alone together for seven uninterrupted hours. 

That just never happens.

One on one. No faces in phones.

It was magical. It was monumental. It was unforgettable.

We talked. (Oh my gosh did we ever talk!)  I told him every launch story I could think of.
We laughed. He told me me some stories about his high school antics.

We learned. We talked about each other's jobs, politics, and - of course - about the space program.

And, yes, we cried. We talked about his Gramma and Grampa (my parents), my big sister, and other losses we're still working through.

But most of all, we shared -- we shared an experience that, as nerdy as it may sound, meant the world to him. And therefore, it meant the world to me.

In these times of ever-changing technology and the soon-to-be space travel program, Feb. 6, 2018 will forever be remembered by millions of people who will recall where they were and what they were doing the day SpaceX successfully launched the most powerful rocket and its intriguing payload into space.

Elon Musk has his Starman in flight, but mine is right here on Earth with me.

At the end of the day, after the contrails had disappeared and Elon Musk's 2008 Tesla was orbiting the Earth, my son and I packed things up and headed for home -- with a pocketful of great memories.


Priceless!!

Thank you, son!

Until we meet, again, Starman, "Don't Panic and Float On!"

It Takes a Village - Turning Over a New Leaf

Sometimes the" planets and stars" have to align in a special way before you can clearly see the answer to a struggle.
That's pretty much what happened to me during the last week of August, right after my sister passed away. I had spent months agonizing over a decision that would, once again, cause me to reinvent myself, that could possibly affect my reputation - and most importantly - could affect the well-being of about 2,500 other people.

I'm talking about my position as the Development Director for the VIM/HANDS Clinic of St. Lucie County, where, for the past three-years, I have been responsible for raising $1 million each year.
As anyone within the realm of fund development knows, it's a very high stress world, one that requires you to be "on" at all times. Adding to that is the fact that the Clinic had never embarked on any type of fund- or friend-raising campaign. So, I began with literally nothing.

The struggles my family and I have met this past year have caused my faith to come into question, have left me feeling empty, and have caused me to take pause and consider what's most important to me.

The result -- On Sept. 1, I gave my notice at the Clinic, making today my last day of employment. So, tonight, there are some people I want to thank; people who believed in me and helped me along the way as I raised $3 million to keep the Clinic open, serving the healthcare needs of this county's vulnerable uninsured adult population.

Wendy Dwyer -- Thank you for sharing your idea of what became known as The Jewelia Project with me. You could have shared that with anyone of a thousand people, but you chose me. I hope I made you proud, as the Project has raised nearly $400,000 to date. (And it ain't over 'til the fat lady sings, and I ain't singin'!)
Dr. Shamsher Singh -- Thank you for being the very first person to financially invest in the future health and well-being of the people of St. Lucie County.
A&G Concrete Pools and Art Allen -- Thank you for your financial support, for treating me on the same professional level as you would any other person or client, for truly understanding the need for these services that are provided by the Clinic, and for the Tequila.
Sandee Allen -- Thank you for always being there for me; more often than even my own husband (he thanks you for that), and no matter what time of day or night.
All of the Ladies of the Jewelia Project - Past, Present and Future -- You are the glue that has held me together. Cris Adams, Pat Alley, Wendy Dwyer, Jennifer Strawn, Tia Adkins, Sandee Allen, Veronica Tempone, Maria Seidel, Sue-Ellen Sanders, Jeannette Weiss, Bunny Webb, Mia Batalini, Debora Thompson, Kathy Post, Linda Evans, Deejay Gardner, Gail Flesche, Pamela Tempone, Jennifer Wiggins, Jackie Holfelder, Janie Reed, and Brittany Huff. You have proven over and over again how clever and creative you can be when it comes to event planning, taking it up a notch with each special event.
Kit Santacroce --  I have learned so much about the medical world from you, but most importantly the medical world as it pertains to those who are at risk, those without insurance, those in dire need.
Frannie Hutchinson -- You have been a guiding star since the loss of my mother; always knowing exactly what to say and when I need to hear it.
Ken Pruitt -- Thank you for guiding me through the maze that is the Florida State Legislature. Was I ever feeling like a fish out of water, but you calmed me down and pointed me in the right direction - making me successful in my endeavor.
St. Lucie County Board of County Commissioners -- Thank you for understanding the value of a healthy population and thereby providing $600,000 in support over the course of the past three years.
Local businesses -- Thank you for providing in-kind donations that allowed us to raise much-needed funding through raffles and auctions.

To every single person who ever attended one of the more than 40 special events that have been held to benefit the Clinic or who donated financially or with volunteer hours -- THANK YOU!

Mel Liebman, Geoff Liebman, Stacy Liebman, Jean Swift, Kimberly Smith -- Thank you for understanding why I couldn't always "be there," because of the demands of this position. Thank you - as always - for your love and support.

I know this is a huge leap of faith, publicly thanking people and risking that someone's feelings will be hurt, but remember -- it truly takes a village. And even though your name might not be listed here, a day doesn't go by that I don't thank this entire community for it's support.

And so, a new leaf has been turned over. Next week I begin my new position with PNC Bank, where I will be working for Aileen Pruitt in the bank's Community Development Department. I'm excited as a new chapter begins in my life
Please continue to support the VIM/HANDS Clinic -- without YOU, it's just not possible.