Remembering an amazing gal

It's been a bit over a year now.  The phone rang one morning last December and it was my gal pal from Montana.  She started out "I hate having to call you with news like this, especially when I have had a week to try and get used to it..."

One of those calls.  The call that you immediately feel your heart drop to your stomach and you know it is not something to celebrate.  I was weak knowing it was not good and knowing who it was about.

My friend Brenda had been taken off of life support and was gone.  From a car accident.  A patch of icy road and collision and though she lingered with help from machines, she was gone.  It was the height of irony...a car accident.

Brenda was one of the first people I got to know in my profession of Human Resources when I moved here.  She got me involved in the professional society, gave me tips on how to deal with crazy people (HR's typical day) and was my roomie nearly every summer at the annual international conference.  We took turns bringing the wine...I remember she giggled when someone brought Fat Bastard one year.

There was never a person with a better laugh, better smile, better attitude.  She was my hero and role model for positive.  She had been through it all I think.

One summer, I was not able to make it to the conference, she didn't either.  On the Monday after what would be the conference weekend she called me.  At 7:00 a.m.  Not her typical hour of girl talk.  Something was not right.

I asked what she had done over the weekend and she replied "put my husband in jail, it seems he has been a pedophile for at least a decade and when they go through his computer, probably worse."

I'm not speechless often but that did it.

In the coming months and into more than a year, she didn't say much, I didn't ask.  All I did was ask if I could do anything for her and she would reply "you are right now, you're here."  She did tell me now and then snippets of what had happened, what was going on, and eventually that he was off to prison and she divorced him.

God did bless her some time down the road after that, thankfully.  She called me and said, "you know I met this guy..."  I was leary.  I was nervous.  When Ms. Montana-pal called me to tell me about him, she gave him a HUGE thumbs up and I felt better.  And when the day came I met him, I thought he was amazing too.  He was perfect for her.  She was overdue for blessings.

She called one summer day to tell me that she was not going to the conference that year.  I wasn't and she knew that already.  But she said she didn't want the other gals (by this time there was a pack of us who went together) to tell me why, she needed to tell me herself.

Breast cancer.  Fast.  Clean mammogram in April, good-sized tumor in June.  Double mastectomy.  Chemo, the full monty.

Shit, one more thing for my sweet pal.

A year later we went to the conference together in Chicago.  She drove to my house and we drove to Chicago together.

With a stop at the outlet mall.  Man we loved shopping at the Coldwater Creek outlet store!

Warm and humid at home in Chicago in June.  We walked down Michigan avenue in the sunshine and she stopped and asked if I minded that she take off her wig.  Like I cared :)  She stopped at Michigan and Wacker (the busiest intersection in the city) and took off her wig, shook it like a dust rag, and shoved it in her bag.  Wiped her little Q-tip head and said "THANK YOU, that feels so much better!"  She laughed that great big laugh and said "Let's grab a drink now!"

Only my gal with her great attitude.

She later informed me that this deal with prosthetics was pretty OK because she had borrowed her mother-in-law's and they were bigger than when she had real boobs!

She found out later that she needed a hysterectomy with all of the genetics and cancer potential.  As luck would have it, the state conference was taking place the night she had surgery and I was speaking at it.  She was 20 minutes away.

The pack of us gals, sans Montana unfortunately, piled into two cars and found where she was in the prep area of the surgical wing.  You should have seen the surgeon's face when he walked in and it was not just my gal and her husband, it was a PARTY!

She pulled through and did fine.

She dealt with 3 downsizings.  SHE was downsized...

She was beyond kind.

When I passed my professional exam to get my HR credentials (which by the way is BRUTAL,) I roomed with her at the conference a month later.  I arrived at the room to a dozen long-stemmed roses and card from her congratulating me!  The vase was a lovely toilet brush holder :)  Brush came too if I wanted it.  She explained that finding a vase in downtown Philly was proving a challenge so she found a "substitute" at the dollar store.

She was scary smart.  Testified before Congress on FMLA and other HR issues.

She was an amazing cook.

She planted DOZENS of tomato plants, vegetables, herbs, flowers, berries...  and gifted me with jam, sauce, wine, pesto...  ALL canned and preserved and, and, and by her and her husband.  I still have a bottle of Barolo from her that I cannot bring myself to break into.

She was ALWAYS there for me.  For work, for personal things, when my parents and Max and Tessa died.  When I left my job and changed careers.  When anything happened.

She was ALWAYS there with this hearty and contagious laugh, this beautiful smile, this strength that I could not imagine anyone had given all she had been through.  She taught me to laugh through so many tough times, frustrating times, silly things.

And it was a patch of icy road.

She survived all of that with laughter, faith and love and it was a car accident that took her from us.

A year later, it still breaks my heart.  So much I want to chat with her about.  But now and then her email pops into my box and I know someone has probably hacked her account.  Maybe it's her, a sign...

But I choose to see her laughing as I see it and take it as that sign that she is guiding me as she always has.  And helping me when I ask her for it.

From a place with no cancer, no bad husbands, and no icy roads.

Girl, I miss you so much...

Grateful for those moments that make you remember and celebrate

We got home late yesterday from a trip...a bucket list trip.  So needed. So fun. And created memories as all of our trips do.

But one memory is special in so many ways.  For my Daddy.

So the bucket list trip started like this...we have a musician friend who plays locally and we love this man.  Kindest soul you'd want to know.  He played in Key West this past week and we decided to go see him.  The bucket list was to go into Miami and drive to Key West (in a Mustang convertible no less) and then a couple of nights in South Beach.  I had never been to either spot.  Hearing our dear friend play Margaritaville in Key West was frosting on the cake.

Booked it :)  Thank you AARP for having such amazing travel deals!  I can scope and book an inexpensive great trip like a pro if I do say so myself!

The hubs told me he had a fun thing planned that he was booking for our drive back to Miami Beach. A little boat ride.

To give some background on why this boat ride was special, you need to know about my special "things" with my Daddy.  I've written about some of the things.  But we had our own "things" as most Daddies and daughters do.

We loved Blackhawks hockey.  We loved beer (though he did not approve of "that light crap" I drank at one time.)  We loved photography.  We loved genealogy.  We loved tomatoes.

And we LOOOOOOVED Humphrey Bogart movies.

His faves were Maltese Falcon and the African Queen.  Mine is still Casablanca and Key Largo.  He and I used to sit on Sunday afternoons when WGN would play the classics and watch Bogie over and over again.  We talked details about which parts in which films we loved best and why.  We both agreed Katharine Hepburn was amazing and that Ingrid Bergman was the most beautiful actress ever.

So it was special beyond my wildest dreams that the "little boat ride" the hubs arranged for us was on the African Queen (THE ORIGINAL!!!  FROM THE MOVIE!!!) in none other than Key Largo.

Our last night in Key West we spent listening to our pal play and we drank blue margaritas and talked about the memories we had made in visiting Hemingway's house, the butterfly sanctuary, feeding the tarpon, lunches on the water.  We talked about the memory we would have in tomorrow's ride on the African Queen.

And then it hit me.

Our ride was to be on December 13th.  The day 9 years ago my Daddy moved to Heaven.

In our house we do not mourn our loved ones who have moved to Heaven.  We take those dates and celebrate and honor them.  If you've read this blog from the beginning you know a bit about that as I have written earlier about it.  We watch their favorite movies, have their favorite meals, their favorite drinks.  Talk about the wonderful times with them and laugh about those fun things.

So this.  This "little boat ride."  How more amazing could it be that it was on this particular day?  The hubs and I both sat slack-jawed in realizing the serendipity in front of us.

It was joyous.  It was bright and sunny.  I found myself caught between tearing up and giddy during the ride.  The captain was so wonderful, told history, told stories of things that happened on the set of the movie.  Had us blow the whistle and steer/drive the boat.  The hubs was giddy steering the boat himself, like a 5 year old on Christmas morning.

The captain had an old Gordon's gin bottle filled with water that I poured into the sea just like Rosie/Hepburn had done in getting rid of Charlie's/Bogie's gin in disapproval.  The hubs took my picture.

I know Daddy loved that one.  Gin was his favorite :)

I could feel him beside me as giddy as I was.  I could feel his smile.  I could feel his spirit elated at being able to be with me to share this amazing event.  I could see him standing next to the hubs steering the boat.  I could hear him laughing as I poured water out of that gin bottle for a photo op.  I could see him pulling on the cord sounding that whistle as we rounded a corner of a Key Largo canal.

And it was all the more special that it occurred on this day.  I made sure that ever minute of the ride, I honored those memories.  The ones in front of the TV watching old black and white Bogie movies.  And it made my heart full.  Made my smile wide.  Made me wonder...

Did you help make it happen on THIS day for a reason Daddy?

Here's looking at you kid (yeah I know, wrong movie...) and honoring you in a way that could not be more special, more fitting, more heartfelt.

And give that guy who stole me from you (kind of, not entirely) some credit too.  He arranged this gig :)

All my love Daddy, this was OUR Heaven,

Salgal

Grateful for a friend and mentor

I have a friend in my life that is also a mentor and I am grateful for so much he offers of himself in my life.

P4 is a fellow educator and all of his names...first, middle, last AND confirmation names, begin with the letter P.  Thus the moniker of P4 :)

Recently he shared with me that he is about to celebrate one of those "landmark" birthdays and has done some reflecting.  I think he is one of those friends that is a blessing and once-in-a-lifetime pal and I am lucky to have him in my life.  Allow me to reflect on P4...

P4 is one of those few people in my professional life that I have 1000% respect for.  Many I respect, many I like, many I think a lot of.  P4 has my complete admiration and respect because the fabric of the character and soul of this man is something we all should aspire to be.  He is a true friend in every sense of the meaning.

He is solid, never rattled.  Never have I seen him lose his temper or lose his focus.  He may not be happy with a situation but he stays the course and stays on task to remain his amazing professional self.  I have asked his advice more than once and upon hearing what he had to say with regard to issues I could not see clearly through, I was always amazed at his insight, always relieved that my friend never judged me, always grateful for solid guidance from someone I could trust.

He is a dear, kind, dependable friend.  We have gone through some tough things this in our family this last year and they have caused me a great deal of worry.  My blood family and hometown friends are 500 miles away and I have never really felt like there were a great many here where I live that I could call if something happened and I needed a friend to come stand by me.  P4 is one of those few.  I know if something dire came to pass, something that brought me to my knees, all I would have to do is pick up the phone.  That is who he is.

He is a deeply spiritual person.  I love the fact that this gentleman (and I do not use that term lightly with him, he is the TRUE gentleman women look up to) still holds his faith high and that I can hold a discussion with him about faith issues and spiritual matters. And though the topic may not be one we agree on in part or entirety, he understands and respects my thoughts and feelings.

P4 is also the kind of friend who gives you those words when you need to hear them and seems to know without being told exactly when that is.  If you've read my whole blog to this point, you'll know that we brought a young woman and a blind pup into our lives one night 11 years ago.  It was gut wrenching in the beginning with all they had been through and things she continued to have to deal with.  I recall vividly having a conversation with P4 telling him about what the hubs and I had done to bring them into our lives.  He looked me in the eye, with a lump in his throat said, "Sally, you need to know that not many people would even consider doing what you did.  You did the right thing and I hope you know that."  His support meant the world to me because I trust him that 1000%.  I knew we had done the right thing but hearing his words meant the world to me.

I trust him with things to the point that I can say "P4, did I do something stupid and make a bad move?"  He would never say YES, he'd say "awwww it's a lesson."  And then proceed to assist me in analyzing the "lesson" and advise if I asked, what my best move would be.

He's an amazing Dad.  Two amazing kids.  He would tell me stories over the years about things he did with them.  P4 is the Dad I had, the Dad we all hope to have or are grateful we do/did.

He's a loving husband.  I've never in all these years met his wife but it is clear that these two love and support one another.  He talks about her with a smile on his face every time he mentions her name.

Smile...P4 is the kind of person who, even when they are having a rough day, has a smile in his eyes and the corners of his mouth curved in a smile.  And the best laugh...it pulls you in and requires that you join him in high spirits.

P4 is encouraging, positive.  So many times I have had conversations with him and he never knew that I was having a lousy day.  His amazing attitude would always refocus my outlook and bring me to a new place.  When I have had new adventures, he encourages me, respects me, lifts me up.  When I am not in a great place, he makes me laugh and see life as it really is...a blessing, a lesson and a gift to be embraced.

He is the consummate professional.  P4 has asked me to collaborate on projects and we have shared projects together.  Every. Single. Time he is what every person pictures as the business professional.  I know I have never told him outright but there are situations that I actively go to my mind and ask myself "What would P4 do in this situation...because I want to freaking kill this idiot and I know he'd have a different solution."

SMART, holy cow.  I wish I had the knowledge and brains that my friend has.  And well-read is a significant understatement.  He can tell you what is going on in every part of the world!  Accomplished, intelligent, driven.  P4, you are a WOW in my world.

Here's to you and that landmark birthday you are reflecting on my friend.  You mentioned you are reflecting on how blessed you are.  Well, I am the one blessed with your friendship and hope to be until the day God calls us both home.  YOU are my blessing and you have no idea how many people think the same.

Here's to you P4, have a nice scotch and cigar on that birthday and  know that I think you ROCK.

Grateful for a Father's love

Today is my Daddy's 85th birthday.  He moved to Heaven 9 years ago next week so I am celebrating his life next week with a toast instead of tears.  It's a tradition now, honor instead of mourn.  But I still miss him every single day.

He taught me how to ride a bike.  He taught me how to embroider when I was 14 and my appendix ruptured and I was home in bed.  He taught me how to load ammo and fire a gun before I could drive a car.

He taught me about living in abundance and giving back.

One day when I was working at the Capitol building in Springfield, Illinois,  I walked uptown to the square for lunch.  I saw my Daddy talking to a group of guys on a corner.  This was not unusual, he walked uptown every day after he ate the sandwich he had brought from home.  He joked that he and the guys he chatted with hung out on the corner to watch the pretty gals.  But he never looked at anyone besides my mother.  Just his dry sense of humor.

This particular day, I walked up and grabbed his arm to tease him a bit.  The clan dispersed as it was time to head back to work.  He asked if I'd like to join him and walk part of the way back together.  We walked and talked about my job, my first "real" job out of college.  As we approached the corner where we would part and go different directions, an older homeless woman approached, though quite tentative.  In a very quick, almost indiscernible motion, she asked for spare change, he pulled a $5 bill out of his pocket that had been at the ready, and put it in her palm.   She quietly thanked him and moved on along the sidewalk.

A few more steps.  I commented that giving her money, $5 at that, might not be wise...she might waste it on alcohol.  I asked why he had done it.  He replied that you had to trust that people would be guided to the right path and he trusted she would.  Her name was Sally he told me.  I had no words.

He was my shining light.  I hope I am as bright for others as he was for me.

He was deeply spiritual though I would not label him religious.  Didn't like going to church but loved the old hymns and could recite the 23rd Psalm by heart.

He was deeply patriotic.  Proud to be a veteran and loved his country.

He was dry and stoic.  I saw him cry just a couple of times in my life.  When our dogs died suddenly. When my cousin Penny was buried on her 40th birthday and her mother walked some of the flowers over to the grave of my grandmother (her sister) and returned to hug my dad.  His heart broke.  He was an only child and lost his parents 9 weeks apart while they were still in their 50s.

I will never forget seeing him in his tux getting it fitted for my wedding.  I had seen him in his suit dressed for work every day, seen him in jeans.  But when he walked out of the dressing room in his tux, I was speechless.  He was SO handsome!  I saw my Daddy as I had never seen him.

His humor was legendary.  When I got engaged, he said on the phone to my husband "Son, are you SURE you know what you're doing?  Have you REALLY thought this through?"

But he choked up walking me down the aisle.

On our first anniversary, he called my husband.  "First anniversary, right?"  Yes :)  "Warranty's up, can't bring her back now!"  And hung up laughing.

He ate Rice Krispies every day I knew him for breakfast.  And the day he sneezed and blew them all over my mother who sat there speechless is legendary.  As he grew older and Alzheimer's started to take over parts of him, his love was for Rice Krispies with chocolate milk instead of the traditional white.  What the hell, go for it Daddy :)

When we adopted Chico, we knew he had been born in December but not which date.  We gave him Daddy's birthday so we would remember.  Chico would have been 13 today and I know Daddy's got him in his lap loving him on their day.

He never yelled, never hit us.  He told me one time I had to make my own decisions and if they turned out to be not so good ones, he'd be there to pull me out of the hole I'd fallen in.

He was a man of very few words but huge heart.  I never once doubted his love for me.  I knew I could always count on him.

Daddy, I will write more next week about the amazing person your earthly being was.  But for now, Happy 85th birthday and 13th to Chico.  The beer must be flowing in Heaven...and none of that light crap for you, only the best :)  Your favorite ...

Old Milwaukee

Gratitude for those who are our soft spot to fall

This week has been especially hard.  If  you've read my first few posts, you know Badass is battling and surviving breast cancer.  You read about the Neat Gal too.  Well she has it too and had surgery this week.

Last weekend we attended a funeral for a friend's son who took his own life at 26.

Monday I opened my hometown online paper to find the obituary of a friend whose wedding I had been in and whose brother I dated.  She took her life as well.  I had been out of touch with her for some years but it did not lessen the sting.

I found myself overwhelmed.  Two BFFs with breast cancer.  Two suicides, one of someone I loved so much but was out of touch with.  I was weepy just folding laundry.  And it was a lonely feeling.

And then at the precise time my heart was so heavy, I went to do some training work for a woman I consider one of the greatest people I know.  She is a Rockstar in so many ways.  Being there with her it reminded me of a time when I felt like my world was coming apart and she was my soft place to fall.

In the first 6 months of 2006 I lost both parents, two of our pups and our friend Edwin.  I took an unpaid leave in the fall from my teaching job at a local college to spend most of the next semester/4 months 500 miles away in IL cleaning out my home (where I grew up) and sorting through memories to be given to relatives, friends, and prepared for sale to strangers at an estate sale.  My home and all of the memories sold and gone.  When all of that was complete in January of 2007, I received a voicemail from the dean's assistant where I taught that they had reconsidered my unpaid leave and that since my parents technically died on breaks they didn't feel like I was entitled and they terminated me.  FIRED IN A VOICEMAIL.  

Could you please pee in my Cheerios a bit more?  I don't think I've suffered enough pain yet...

Enter Rockstar.

I've known Rockstar for about 18 years if I figure right.  We are both Human Resource professionals. She is beautiful, she is scary smart, she is a sharp dresser, she is generous, she is kind to a fault, she loves martinis and good wine, she has the greatest laugh, she is supportive, she is an amazing mentor to the students I've had that have worked for her, she is tough as nails but fun as they come.  She is my pal the Rockstar.  I could go on about her for days, because she is amazing.

I love to tell people about my pal Ronn's first meeting with her.  She was looking for a consultant to do some work and they had talked on the phone a few times and were going to meet to chat further.  Prior to the meeting I asked him how he pictured her from the phone conversations.  "Like Cathy Bates with a military hair cut."

I could not wait to hear what he thought when he met her  in person :)

He called when he was done with the meeting to tell me that the project would probably not be a fit but they would stay in touch.  I asked what he thought of her when he met her.  This would be good.

"I sat in the lobby and watched this woman in this sea foam green suit walk across the lobby and thought how stunning she looked.  I almost fell over when she walked up to me and introduced herself!  It was clearly not Cathy Bates in a military hairdo!"

Yep, that's my Rockstar.  Da Bomb, the Full Monty, and my soft place to fall.

Which is why I write about her here now.

I had such loss in one year and was numb.  I have months where I do not remember what I did.  I struggled to do anything but watch Dr. Phil for a time (yep, that's how out of it I was...watching Fat Phil's Circus.)  And I simply did not know how I was going to go on.

She knew what I needed and when I needed it and how I needed her friendship.

She called to chat.  She drug me out to events her company was involved in.  She gave me work to do.  She got me involved on a project with another consultant.  She got me out for lunch.  She got me out for drinks.  She was always there.  She had the hard talk with me one afternoon..."Sally you are depressed and it's hurting you and your business.  You need to do something for yourself to get better."  And it was with so much love and support.  And she stood by me as I did get better and did find my stride again.

She's ALWAYS there for me.  I hope I am as good a friend to Rockstar.

As I think of the two people that took their own lives this week, it tears my heart out that they felt that they did not have a Rockstar, no soft place to fall/land.  I'm blessed to be that soft place for Badass and Neat Gal, at least I hope they know that.  I hope Rockstar knows I am here to be that for her too.

When I went through all of the loss in the year I write about here, I was so stunned at the things that people said and did.  Cold, cruel, hateful, mean, thoughtless things.  People up here are "friendly" but there are only a few that I could truly count on in tough times.  I recall that hard year and can vividly recall and tell you about those who were there and kind.  Sadly, the horrible ones were in greater number and made it harder.  My heart broke, my walls went up, my trust disappeared.

But my Rockstar did not.

She is my friend, my confidant, my sidekick, my martini buddy/wine buddy, my mentor, my business partner of sorts, my counsel, my supporter.  I am sad that others do not have a Rockstar.  I've been here 20 years and there are few that I know are rock solid in my life.  She is and always has been.

I am beyond blessed to have her in my life.  Working together was a good reminder of that during this particular week.

She was and is my soft place to fall :)  Here's to you girlfriend, you are my ROCKSTAR!  I love you tons!

Grateful for wonderful parents- here's to their 60th anniversary today

Today is my parents' 60th wedding anniversary.  Though they moved to Heaven 8 years ago, I think of them every day and today I am toasting them in my heart and hoping they are celebrating.

They were a funny pair.  Both the same height so mom never wore much in the way of high heels.  Dad was quiet, the engineer.  Mom was the person that talked to strangers in the produce section.  He rarely let out what he was thinking.  You ALWAYS knew what her opinion was!

She told me it snowed on their wedding day.

They produced me, the oldest, and my brother who is 4 years younger.  I did the "math" once and figured out mom got pregnant with both of us on their wedding anniversary.  She would never confirm that of course.  And of course those were the only two "times" it happened :)

They gave me an amazing, blessed life.  And shaped me into who I am.

Mom stayed home with us till I was out of high school and went back to work.  Home cooked dinner every night at 5:30.  She taught me to sew and she made my clothes.  She taught me to speak French from a cool workbook she found at a book sale.  She taught me to read from a cool workbook when I was 3. She taught me about art and started my love of Degas and Monet.  She taught me about gardening and started my passion for that and all things green.  I would get huge packages at college of new outfits she made me.  She taught me to dress with class.  (I say as I sit and type in sweats and a t-shirt.  Sorry mom!)

She was a great cook and baker.

When I cleaned out the home I grew up in after they died, I found a set of braids and two pony tails in an envelope.  The braids were about 18" long.  They were hers and she had kept them when she cut her hair off at 13.  The one pony tail was mine when she cut my hair off at 6 into the infamous pixie cut.  The other was when I cut my hair off my freshman year of college.

So I started growing my hair out and in honor of her 80th birthday a couple of years ago, I donated mine and the braids and two pony tails to Locks of Love in her name.  She would have liked that...wait, she does like that :)

She had broken hearts when I did and was thrilled when I was.  We had a tough relationship at times but she was the mom who helped me be what I hope is viewed as a good woman today.

My daddy...the first love of my life.  And my rock.  And my guardian.

My first date...he told me that he wanted me to make sure the young man came in so he could meet him.  The doorbell rang, I answered and ushered him in.  It was to a dance so there was the delivery of flowers as he walked in the door.  And then I moved to take him around the corner into the den to meet my daddy.

And there he was, sitting in his big chair.  With a shotgun in his arms running a cleaning rod in and out of it.  And our enormous dog, who didn't like men, on a leash sitting next to him.  "You'll have her home by midnight, WON'T YOU SON?"

I was home by 11 and single until I was 37.

I loved every moment with him.

When I was little he would park me on a stool in his workshop to help him load ammo (he shot trap) and had me tap powder and primers into shells.  He taught me how to fire a 9MM before I could drive a car.  He taught me how to shoot trap.  He taught me how to love geometry and physics (hated algebra word problems though.)

He helped me catch butterflies for my collection.  And he taught me how to love beer :)  Now there is a great dad for you!

I was home one weekend when I was in my 30s and was standing behind him talking to him and he did not respond. I tapped him on the shoulder and asked if he had his hearing aids in so he could hear me.  The response was NO.  I asked why not.  His response..."Well your mother is home!!!"

He never lost his sense of humor even when Alzheimers started moving in...

My last visit was with him in a nursing home.  Though he was cared for, I never want anyone to have to go through living there.  Never.

I took Maya to meet him, we had just gotten her a few weeks before.  She ran into daddy's room and jumped onto his bed where he was just up from a nap.  "SHE'S NEW!"  This was nothing short of a miracle because the disease had left his mind pretty sharp but taken his speech almost completely.  It broke my heart he could no longer call me SalGal as he had for my entire life.  But now when I tugged on her leash to get her to jump down..."DON'T HURT HER!"  I left him to cuddle her :)

I got him up to watch TV...football.  Mom would not let sports be watched on TV so he and I would sneak in a Blackhawks hockey game on TV in a rare moment but that was about it.  So I got him into his chair and turned on the Wisconsin Badgers (we are huge fans) vs. Penn State.  I explained that we needed this win to get to a bowl game and Penn State was undefeated.  He nodded that he understood.  The twinkle in his eye always told me he still recognized me and knew what I was saying.

Maya was laying on the bed, started to "fluff" the covers to make herself a spot to lay.  As I turned to watch her, I heard daddy shout "OH SHIT!"  I turned to find him pointing at the TV where Penn State had just scored :)

I loved it.  The comment and the football together.

I said to him "You can say that but can't say my name?"  He shrugged his shoulders and let out a little giggle.  But that was the best "OH SHIT" I've ever heard in my life!

He stood with me at a parade in downtown Chicago that was honoring Viet Nam vets one warm May afternoon.  I pulled his arm to cross the street between marching bands and he would not move.  He was staring up at a man and had tears in his eyes.  My dad NEVER cried.  What was this about?  I took the cue and stayed until the parade passed and he was ready to move.  I asked him what upset him...

He said "Did you see that blue ribbon and medal around his neck?"  I had not.  He said, "That is the Congressional Medal of Honor and what he had to do to earn that is something you and I will never have to suffer."  He explained that many earn it posthumously.  I was humbled and understood the tears then.

He was fiercely patriotic.  And I know he loved the military salute at his grave and hearing a bugler play taps for him.

I could tell stories about them forever.  They were amazing parents.  I realized the love they had when I found that mom had saved every letter he wrote her from his Army service days and every card he had given her, when I cleaned out the house.  She only lasted 6 months after he was gone...

They still are amazing parents, guiding me in a different way and different place now.

I am so grateful for Harley Jr. and Mary Jane Field.  I hope they know how much they are loved and missed so much.

Happy 60th anniversary Mom and Daddy, I love you to the moon and back :)

Grateful for times of pure joy and bliss...

In my last post I wrote about learning to row.  We are about to close out our season now and will clean the boathouse and put the boats to bed for the winter next weekend.  I had what will probably be my last row of the season Sunday morning and it was AMAZING.

FREEZING COLD, but amazing in the least.

It was 35 degrees air temp and clear as a bell outside.  Saturday was so warm that I planted bulbs in my shirt sleeves :)  So it was brutal Sunday morning standing nearly knee deep putting the Willow (the boats all have names) in the water.

Since the water is so cold now, we have to stay close to each other, close to shore and keep watch on each other.  There were 9 of us this morning; a quad, two doubles and a single.  Each boat beyond a single has to have a person who is "bow certified" to ensure the safety of boat and rowers.

I got the luck of the draw and got my pal Cruise Director.

Since I don't put people's names in here to be respectful, I hope she's OK with that moniker, it is one of affection.  And we also make a good team in other ways because we are the same build (good in the boats for a number of reasons) and we share a passion for rescue and dogs.  She's a teacher, I was and will always be one at heart.  So we are congruent in more than just rowing.

Water like glass, trees just moving toward winter except for the red oaks who drop leaves late.  Sky as blue as it can be.  Quiet except for us on the river...the rowing and sometimes the laughter and talk along the way.

And it felt amazing.

I have not been rowing as much as my husband.  It is an early morning sport and I am NOT early morning.  On the summer mornings I am down there to put in at 5:30 (his preferred hour) I am not the one to engage in conversation and not one to get my act completely together well.  Like the morning I rowed into the pond and discovered I had the oar locks backwards.  You can row, but not far and not well...  So early mornings are not my forte.  And on our river, if you are not off the river by about 9 AM the idiots are out and they do not care if they race with their wakes or jet ski around you.

Rowing a toothpick in that as a relative newbie, not fun.  :P

So later summer and fall rowing later in the morning and the many late afternoon/early evenings we have been out have been my delight!  Sunday was no exception.

I felt like I had a spot...you know where it feels like it's falling into place?  And this is a sport that takes time for some (like me) to get it in the spot.  Slide felt good, squaring blades along with her felt good, stroke felt good, I wasn't tired despite we went the same distance as the other day, approximately 8.1KM.

AMAZING...

We enjoyed the row, we enjoyed each other, we took in the beauty of what has been the most beautiful autumn in the 20 years I've lived here.  It was spectacular.

When we came under the bridge into the pond on the last stretch to take the boats in and be done, there was an eagle hunting.  To my heartache, he was hunting baby coots (little birds) in the water instead of fish.  He soared, he dove, he moved in such majesty that the 3 of us stopped and quietly watched his movement and hunt.

When he obtained breakfast, he swam it to shore instead of flying off.  That was a spectacle as well.  Watching this huge, majestic bird flap his wings and get his prey onto the beach.  We rowed closer to watch him pluck the feathers from breakfast and heard him chirp warning.

Sad as it was that it was a little bird and not the fat fish that had been jumping north of us, it was beautiful to see.  Few get this sight, I am blessed and grateful.

Time to go in, last strokes were perfection.  They felt like sheer delight.  Perfect day.  It was the close to a season with a great time and good peeps.

And to make it the perfection I felt, my bow gal said "Sally, that was your best row ever when it's us and with me.  You were so relaxed and did so great."  AMAZING.

I am so grateful that I have her and the peeps that are good to me.  I am blessed and grateful for the experience and time.  I am grateful for the beauty I am presented with in my life and where I live.  I am blessed that I had such a great day to close out the season and a row that felt like perfection in my space.

Here's to Sunday and everything feeling like PURE JOY AND BLISS!

Gratitude for new adventures that turn into loves

I had something on my bucket list that I fulfilled last year.  I've been blessed enough to check A LOT off of my bucket list like trips to Tahiti and a number to places in Europe I wanted to visit.  But this was something else...a learning experience.  And boy was it...

One of the delightful things is that my husband jumped into my bucket too and took the the adventure in.

We learned to row.

OK, not that row boat type of thing or fishing or a canoe where you leisurely float, row, throw a line in the water, have a beer, read your book, glass of wine at sunset thing.  You're a single boat about a foot wide and 27' long or a double with two people or a quad/4x with 4 peeps and oars damned near as long as I am tall...wait longer than that.  And you have to do a "flip test" on the water and get back in your boat before you can solo after your "learn to row" sessions.

Yep, it's amazing and maddening all at the same time.  And that "flip test" thing to get back into your boat is not as easy as it sounds for us short gals well over 50.

AND if that is not enough, you will need to forget everything you learned in canoe lessons at Girl Scout Camp Widgiwagen about the positions of left and right and front and back of a boat!  The bow is in the back, starboard is left, port is on the right...

But it is amazing.

This morning at first light, there were six of us out; my hubs and K in a double and 4 of us in a quad...THE NEW BOAT OUR CLUB BOUGHT THIS YEAR!  I got to row in the new quad!  On a beautiful day on the St. Croix river as we wind down our season amongst the red oaks and their beautiful colors and the glassy water.

There is nothing like the sound of your slide/seat moving back and forth with everyone else when you're rowing the quad.  All the same movement (hopefully!) and all the same stroke (hopefully!) and the glide and at the same time the power of movement with the drive of all legs in a Power 10.   The peace and fun of rowing a double with a veteran who knows just what they see in your slide and stroke and coaches you to the best of your movement to feel like you are floating along in perfect rhythm and pace with them.  They are amazing athletes and yet simple coaching like "plant your blades and drive" are the perfect confidence builders for a 2d year like me.  No ego, so kind.  And this morning I was behind another member who was in stroke seat (you have to follow that person's movements to stay in sync) and though he confessed he had not rowed a quad in 34 years, he got me to a new level of feeling great.  And it helped boost my confidence that the commodore who was in the bow (in charge seat) called out and told me my blade depth was great on my stroke.

Overall an AMAZING row this morning despite not being able to feel my feet when we stood in the river to get the boat in and out :)

I love my pal that I row with that will call "weigh enough" (that's STOP!) on the river and point out the sunrise over the church steeple or the hot air balloons rising or the convocation of eagles on shore eating a fish that washed up.  She gets the beauty of the sport and has won her medals but she also makes sure we get the time to appreciate the spirituality of what we are doing in the early morning.

They also watch and know and gently assist in those moments when those of us taking baby steps need to know we are not complete and utter screw ups.  Like me...

Flipped my single on the coldest effing day of the summer, 54 air temp.  And could NOT get back in after about half a dozen tries and had to swim the damned thing to shore after having drifted halfway to New Orleans.  After that I have refused to go back in the "big girl" boat and went right back to the trainer, which is wider and more stable.

But my pal who loves the scenery and the one who is national champ, and the one who coached me to  "plant and drive" have all said "you need to get back on the horse..."  Well...the horse pissed me off.  I've lost a bit of my mojo in the other boat.  But they have the confidence in me so come spring I will start with baby steps again and see how it goes :)   I still feel good in the double and 4x/quad so we'll see about that single. But to have those kind women take the time to reach out and coach, encourage, build.  It's something I have not seen or experienced much of up here and I am SO grateful for it.

It is a beautiful sport and so fun and such an adventure.  And the hubs and I have also taken it to another level and have become regatta referee candidates.  Not an easy process but WAY cool and a huge honor.  I don't have the racing bug but I loved the observation part of our "schooling" recently on the Head of the Mississippi Regatta.

This is going to rock :)

I am so grateful for this beautiful morning on the river with people who are really wonderful and I so appreciate.  I am grateful for my heart being guided to this sport that I love, and once I'm a bit more confident I am sure I will be better at.  I am grateful for sharing it with my loving husband who not only loves it, is obsessed.

In the stress of all on my plate, and winter approaching, I am beyond grateful for at least two more days to get out there and absorb the beauty and friendship that I've found rowing.

Grateful for those who lift us up...

We all have those people in our lives, the ones who make us feel like a million!  They see us on our worst day and love us...you know, the ones in your grubby sweats, wet hair, no makeup or bed head, and they tell us we are wonderful, beautiful, amazing...

That is my husband.  This morning as I sat here in my grubby sweats with wet hair and no make up trying to tackle the mound of work that did not get attention while I was at a conference from Tuesday of last week through Sunday/yesterday, he proceeded to tell me that he was so proud of me and loved me and without hesitation told me how beautiful he thought I was.

I thought he was high.  Clearly he didn't look at me when he said it.

But he meant every word because he sees beyond wet hair and no makeup.  And as we've gotten older, none of that matters to him.  What matters is our health and happiness.  And each other :)

He tells me that he is proud of me too.  It must be for something other than stellar housekeeping...  and CLEARLY not for cooking because my two best efforts at that are Cheerios and reservations!

I'm thinking it is because he knows the soul of who I am.  He's proud of that soul.  What I stand tall for, who I choose to fight for (it is always the underdog) and the integrity I so fiercely put forth and demand in others.  The love and respect I focus on giving.  What I work so hard to teach in the former students and others I mentor.  What I strive to bring out in others...their very best soul.

My travel pal this past week is also one of those people who makes you feel top drawer.  She knows what I am about, what I am intellectually composed of and capable of.  We are more recent friends than some of my pals and we were until this road trip, work-related in friendship, but she said something that made me feel like a million while we were at the conference...  After I mentioned  a particularly difficult situation I was juggling, she looked me square in the eye and said "want to know what I think?  Lift your skirt, grab your balls, and get on with yourself, you are better than this."

Amen sista.  And you knew exactly what I needed to hear to have the validation.  What a blessing you are in my life!

My brother is my cheerleader too.  We are 500 miles apart and we have had our moments.  But he never misses an opportunity to tell me that he is proud of me or that he loves me.  It's just the two of us, no other siblings.  We could be that brother-sister gig that hates each other.  But he's always there to let me know I'm pretty OK in his world.  And it does mean the world to me.

I look to those messages from my former students and hear them say "Oh Sally, I love you!" and it comes from a spot in their hearts that makes ME feel like I'm on top of the world.  My sorority girls (with the exception of the couple of psychos) are the same.  My BFFs from home too.  They lift me up.  And at the precise times when it seems it is the prescription that is the best medicine.

A new Facebook girlfriend has bonded with my cause to help homeless pets.  She said to me recently that I have helped her find ways grow to better herself.  That is pretty humbling and let me tell you girl, YOU have taught me how to be a better person.  You came for a graduation party, we met, and you have become a huge part of my heart.  You are truly amazing.  HUGE soul you have my dear!

I had a recent reach out from high school.  A very fun guy I had known because he dated and eventually married my girlfriend's sister.  So this group was so fun...my girlfriend was like a sister to me and we knew each other from Sunday School years when we were small and remained close into high school.  Her sister was a year younger and boyfriend...well they were laughter and smiles all the time.  We all kind of hung together on a regular basis, loved the fun with them!  But we all lost touch as will happen at that point in life.

So sister's boyfriend/ex-husband friend requested me on Facebook and we chatted for the longest time and recalled fun times.  He is still the kind that when you think of him all you see in your mind is a great smile and lots of laughter.  I so loved hearing that he's got two grown kids and a grand baby!  The chat was so wonderful and took me back to years of laughter and special times.  He's still a really great guy.  When we were closing out the chat he said "Sally, you are so, so sweet."

I thought he was high too.  He clearly did not know that I had just about come through the phone at the AT&T wireless billing guy an hour before. OOPS did I just admit that one? :)

But it is those things, sincere and loving message from people who somehow see through the bullshit and give you that heartfelt assessment that reminds you that you are pretty OK and really matter to someone.  That your soul is one that is loved and treasured.  Kindness that comes out of the places you least expect but treasure most.

And even though that is my mission daily--to let people know that they are loved, and amazing, and valued and important--it is nice to get it in return.  Fills the heart to overflowing.

Remember Abilene in The Help?  "You is kind, you is smart, you is important."  We all need to say that to each other to remind each other that despite the shortcomings, we are all worth those words.  And don't kid yourself, we all NEED to hear those words!

A Facebook pal posted this today too...good reminder for us all.  Because we all slip and get bitchy now and then:

"The ego has taught you that by making others feel insignificant or inferior, it will allow you to feel better about yourself. That is an illusion. By diminishing others, you diminish yourself"

How true...

I work toward the Four Agreements in my life and sometimes it is harder than others but I find that they are good guideposts for us to be good to one another.  

Try them...and be good to one another.  Lift each other up, it makes a huge difference in someone's day.  And you don't have to know them at all, lift them up anyway.  You will be making life better for someone, the world better for many, and I guarantee it will fill your own heart.

Gratitude for Serendipity and Syncronisity

I don't believe in coincidence.  Things happen for a reason.  People meet for a reason.  Paths and doors open for a reason.  My pal Deb and I have always called them "God winks" and "coincidentally" there was a piece this morning on CBS Sunday Morning about God Winks.

I had several late last week.

I am blessed to be a member of the Association for Transformational Leadership.  The midwest group meets twice a year in May and October.  Last week was our fall meeting and a smaller, more intimate group than my last meeting.  It was a blessing to say the least.

We do a fun ice breaker like at most meetings and it is always so uplifting.  It involves circulating and telling your new compadres something good you see in them.  All 3 of the folks I connected with used the same word for me (coincidentally...) JOY.  JOY...what a beautiful word to be associated with.

We then walked through the landscape arboretum, which is breathtaking on its worst day, and in a group of 4 talked briefly on a question posed to us before,  I mentioned that JOY had "coincidentally" come up in all 3 people and yet cancer was the term associated with me recently in a loose connection of sorts.  It just came rolling out and I don't know why...right there in front of the lavender and mint in the fragrant herb section.

It hit me so hard I started to cry.  How could two terms be so far apart in describing me?

Then it happened...that coming together of souls for only good that I crave and love.  Beth, Valerie and Myron...all healers of different modalities, began their loving magic to kick it to the curb yet help me understand why it hit me so hard.  Cancer...WHAT A HORRIBLE WORD.  Your loved one may have cancer,  your pup has cancer,  I have breast cancer,  I have thyroid cancer, you are a cancer...

I cannot find any instance in which that word lights up the soul.

But Beth and Myron and Valerie, I am so grateful for your love and desire to help me.  Because YOU all and the others saw my soul, nothing else and you were firm in eradicating the cancer that seemed to be a black cloud hanging around me.

I am so grateful for you all and your love.  Selfless love that moved me into a great space.  Space that needed to be opened up to take in the next great things of that day and the coming days.

There was more to come that day :)

My dear, dear friend Paul is one of the founders of the Transformational Leadership Council and all of the chapters associated with the group that is international.  He has mentioned to me several times that I should connect with a woman named Patricia who is working on a TL project connected with higher ed.  I have opened her website several times.  Closed it because they are associated with a former employer, some of whose "leaders" have moral and ethical compasses that do not necessarily point due north most of the time and two of whom I have been the target of.  I struggled with that connection.

Opened Patricia's website again...what would I say in contacting her?  Paul said to call but I'm not sure why?  DUH...no.

OK, put it aside and think on it later.

So at Thursday's meeting we were in a table exercise to write a 90 second poem where the word ending of the sentence is the first word of the next sentence.  Mary, the facilitator gave us the first two words, SACRED SPACE.  I didn't think...I wrote:

Sacred space is my wish
Wish is for dreamers to do
Do what your heart tells you
You have the power
Power is here to create your reality
Reality is now
Now you need to act
Act is imperative


That is by far the best poem ever and I'm framing that bad boy :)  Soul talk.  Heart speak.

We shared them at our little table of 4.  As we all talked,  I realized my new friend and table mate Joel had mentioned Patricia's organization in passing a couple of times and it clicked...WOW he can help me understand the organization and maybe why I keep opening that page and trying to figure out if I should call her.

Well he did more.  He talked about what they were doing briefly and mentioned that they were having their meeting the next day, asked if I was free.  HELL YES!  He mentioned they were probably full but he would call and ask if I could get in.

ONE person cancelled due to an emergency.  I had an open spot!  Coincidence???  I think not...

The meeting was held at "that" employer I mentioned.  Coincidence?  No.  Time to clear the deck of that shit and get on with cool stuff on the agenda.  And of all things, as I left that day, there was a nemesis and she was literally running to avoid having to say hello.  Yep, kick that cancer to the curb, cool things await.  Coincidence?  NAH, clearing :)

Patricia's organization and meeting were a totally perfect dovetail to the meeting the day before and Joel connected me with a couple of others that continued to fill that space that has felt incomplete on various levels.  Amazing conversation and people.  And Paul and Myron were there to also continue the great energy from the day before.  Patricia is wonderful and I am looking forward to more interaction with the group!

The two days were bubbling over the top with those moments of serendipity and syncronisity that had me spinning with excitement in learning new things and meeting new people and new adventures with them and endless possibilities.  Soul connections.

Paul, I am always and forever grateful for your insight and love and friendship.  Joel, I am so grateful for you opening multiple doors and looking forward to a great friendship.  My other ATL pals from last week, you fill my heart and soul and I am so grateful for all that evolved and helped me grow some wings.  I am grateful to feel and be renewed.

God, I am so grateful for your WINKS.  Please keep them coming!  But here's the deal...sometimes it needs to be a neon sign and not just a wink...know what I mean?

Namaste my friends, my blessings.  I am so grateful for you all!

HUGE gratitude to know when you make a difference

My husband and I give back as much as we can and we have a passion for animals.  This is so easy for us because all we do is drive, love, deliver...

This will give you an idea what we do, I wrote this for my husband to submit to his company's volunteer/matching grant department:

Every Sunday night my wife and I put on our t-shirts that say “When all that stood between life and death was a ride, how could I say no?”  Then we jump into a 1996 GMC Jimmy that has over 190,000 miles on it and we transport dogs to rescues, fosters or “furever” homes.  We are that ride.

We are animal rescue transporters.  We drive for Mobile Mutts, a group that coordinates transport for rescues that pull animals from high kill shelters, mostly in the southern United States, and transport them into rescue situations in Minnesota and Wisconsin, sometimes in Illinois.  There is every breed imaginable and every age.  Puppies who have just been weaned and still have yet to receive full vaccinations are deemed “no paws on the ground” and are handled with great care.  Parvo can be picked up by them just walking on the ground where the virus is present and it can then wipe out a kennel population that is unprotected from the deadly disease.   Seniors that have been coldly dumped at shelters by owners who simply state “we don’t want her anymore.”  Disabled animals that have little chance of getting a home because of their special needs.  There are many Pitbulls simply in their situation because of human assumptions or abuse.

These drives bring joy and tears on many levels.  There is the joy of looking at that dog and knowing that it escaped death in a gassing chamber in Louisiana or a heartstick facility in North Carolina (yes, that is exactly what you think it is) to be driven, leg by leg, to places where they will be vetted and loved as every animal should be.  There are the tears when they look into your eyes and thank you, as only a shelter animal can, for driving them to a place that literally chose to save their lives.

One snowy winter night Sally and I transported Snowball (WHO IS NOW NAMED ROO.)  He was a Rat Terrier mix from Alabama and his front paws were deformed.  As he settled into the ride to meet his rescue, he took his little deformed legs and pulled the blanket on Sally’s lap under his chin and let out a heavy sigh.  He is now at Home for Life in Star Prairie, WI using a wheelchair to get around and is living his dream.  There was Teeny, a Chihuahua mix only 10 weeks old that rested in my hand and snuggled my neck.  And there was Precious and her sister Queenie, two seniors that looked up at me with hearts and eyes full of thanks as they left to go to Homeward Bound Rescue in Monticello, MN and hopefully be adopted into a loving family of their own.

Transporters simply drive.  Some an hour, some more.  It’s like a puppy underground railroad.  We meet at gas stations, truck stops, mall parking lots, and such places to pass our passengers and their paperwork on to the next person to move along the line.  All dogs have been spayed or neutered and have all shots, with the exception of some puppies too young at the time of transport.  Some want or need to be in crates and some just ride along and fall asleep next to their fellow passengers.  The legs typically start in the south on a Friday or Saturday and overnight Saturday night to move along again bright and early on Sunday morning and we are that last leg on Sunday night; Hudson, WI to Brooklyn Center, MN where we meet in a parking lot filled with people picking up their passengers.  Fosters, furevers, rescues, we are all there to celebrate their new beginnings.

It’s easy, you just drive.  Maybe a few treats would be in order and a rub under the chin, possibly a belly scratch.  But it’s the best drive you’ll ever be on looking into eyes that are so grateful for you spending a couple of hours on the road and some gas money.  We can’t do everything for them but we are comforted knowing we can do something.

We so rarely ever know where they go or how their new homes are or if they are happy and content in their new lives.  We just say a lot of solid prayers for them...

And today I was on Facebook while my documents are printing and found this story about ROO that I wrote about in the story above.  I am OVER THE MOON to read his story and see the sweet smile on his face.  And on a cloudy, chilly day when I needed to know this, it was confirmed...our drive made a difference.  What we did really made a HUGE difference to a crippled pup from an area of the country where he would have never survived, we made the difference in him getting to an amazing new life.

Make a difference.  It does not take much...  But first read about my sweet pal Roo:

http://www.homeforlife.org/roos-story

Honoring those we love

As those who have read here know, we very recently lost our handsome Husky boy, Chico who was blind and nearly 13 years old.  It has been hard on all of us but as we hold him close in our hearts and grieve the silence left behind without his constant conversation, I have watched Maya and Marty, his pack mates, demonstrate their own way of handling his absence.

Maya will lay in his spot in the living room and never, ever had she laid in that room.  Marty does the same in our bedroom and in the kitchen.  Chico's spots are now occupied by smaller fur kids who talk less.  Maya also lays at Chico's food bowl with her arms wrapped around it instead of sitting on the chair or couch with us.

But one thing that perplexed Tim and I both was that they will not drink out of the water bowls Chico drank from--at all.  In the 5 weeks without him, the two bowls he drained daily have remained full with only evaporation taking them down.  I've washed them and refilled them only to have them remain as I placed them, filled to the top with water.

They both now drink from the third bowl and only that one.

We have a dear friend that was over for dinner recently and she works with animals in behavior and communication and training.  We mentioned this to her and she had one simple word in observation.  HONOR.

I asked her what she meant.  She said that is their way of honoring Chico.  They leave his bowls full to honor him.

It filled and broke my heart all at the same time.  He is so deserving of it...our Big Man.

It also had me recall many other "honorings."

Each year on birthdays and anniversaries of deaths of our parents, Tim and I celebrate them.  We watch The Quiet Man and have a steak for my father.  We have my mother's pot roast for her.  We toast my father-in-law/Dad #2; I with a Black and Tan and Tim with Crown Royal which were Dad's favorite drinks.  It may vary year to year how we celebrate them via food, drink, movies, music...but we make sure we celebrate them.  I plant different plants for them all in my beautiful garden...heliotrope and moss rose for my Mom, Asters for our Springer Spaniel Max (and now Chico) and a Gerbera Daisy for Tessa, our other pup in spirit.

We HONOR them.

One year I shared this on Facebook...this honoring process of celebrating that we do.  I believe it happened to be the Quiet Man and steak night.  And I in turn was "honored" by a guy I knew in high school.

I  knew my pal in high school but we were not "friends" like you are in high school and we didn't hang together or talk or date or any of that other high school shit we all did.  But through Facebook we connected and I'm so proud that we are friends now and I am hoping that some day my journey's take me south to where he his living to have an adult beverage with him...to HONOR this connection.

Because, it is through this celebrating of our loved ones, HONORING them, that he chose to honor me and it remains a huge, full spot in my heart to this day...

One year he sent me a private message on FB and wrote the most wonderful note and told me that my celebrations, my HONORING my loved ones turned his life and perspective around in his own loss.  He found himself no longer mourning his Dad and the void but making his Dad's favorite meal and remembering all of the great times they had together.  And each year as he posts pictures of his cooking his Dad's fave, he takes the time to honor me in setting this tradition in place in his own heart.

Keith, the honor is all MINE, my friend.

And the comments in his thread set others in motion to HONOR those they love in a new tradition.


I will continue to fill Chico's water bowls, celebrate Mom, Dad, and Dad #2 in those special ways and plant flowers for them all.  I will forever HONOR them in the ways that fill my heart.  I will watch Maya and Marty honor their pack mate they love and miss and I know they see in spirit but still feel the void of his move to Heaven.

But it has moved me to ask the question...why do we need to wait until our loved ones are gone to HONOR?  We need to do it now, while they are here, to their face, with love and kindness and laughter.  We need to make those heartfelt payments to everyone NOW.  While they can see how much we love and HONOR them.   Not after they are gone and we do it out of grief and sadness.

My pups teach me a lot--SO much in their simple ways.  About love, play.  Now about HONOR.  About that part of love and devotion to another that holds them high and tight in your heart.  HONOR.

Who will you honor each day?  I challenge everyone to find someone new every day to HONOR.  It does not have to be someone you know either.  Anyone, but even better, someone who needs it.  Think of the impact in choosing to HONOR a person every day and what it would/could do!

HONOR each day and make it count.  <3

And thank you Maya and Marty for teaching me about HONOR and how important it is in LOVE.