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March 25, 2025

You can almost taste the feeling of spring break in the air.

Teachers, parents, kids need a break. 

Many schools are wrapping up parent-teacher conferences. These meetings are necessary and so important for parents and teachers to touch base.

I remember one year, we were teaching during the day. The kids left at 3:42 pm and the first of 8 conferences was due to begin at 4:00pm. I was brushing my teeth when the first people peeked their heads in and asked if I minded if we started early.

Two nights on one week, and one night on the final week after teaching all day.

Sometimes parents didn't show up.

Sometimes there was more to talk about, so a double slot of time was needed. 

PTO make sure the staff at our school was fed dinner during those long evenings. 

Arriving home at 9:30, there were still some plans I needed to do at home and unwinding was not possible. On more than one occasion, my in laws had arrived early to help with Thanksgiving. 

One year, while busy with a particularly memorable set of grueling conferences, both my girls were sick at home. I was a basket case worrying about my daughter's 103 degree fever and if a doctor was warranted when I arrived home.

It was like having a split personality. I cared for my school kids, but my real kids were suffering without me. 

I recall waiting for the doctor to call me at school after the girls were seen. Apparently, my husband had taken them both to the doctor since I was freaking out about taking them to Florida to see their grandparents in an airplane the following day. 

The secretary put the call through to the teacher's lounge (Can you imagine no phones in the classrooms?) and I was told the diagnosis was strep throat. She'd already started my daughters on antibiotics, and they should be able to make the trip.

Relieved, I lay my head down on the table and wept. You know the ugly crying when the dam seems to break free, and emotions cannot be held at bay. 

My friend, Annette, came into the room and put her hand on my shoulder. In a soothing way, she let me know that it was okay to let it out. She empathized with the long hours at home and at school. She had four daughters, after all, and three came at the same time.

I will never forget that desperate feeling and loss of control. No one can do it all, but teachers seem to be in the top five to make it work.

Be safe and have a great break.

Thanks for listening. 


March 7, 2025

Let's Talk School

My chosen profession was to be an Elementary School Gym Teacher (Sorry TK).

I didn't realize the curriculum would be so intense.

Sure, there were all the one credit hour activity classes that ate up a schedule and left you with 8 classes for 16-hour load,

but the science classes that were required had us sitting next to pre-med students in biology, physiology, anatomy, and theory.

When I graduated and went looking for a job in the early 80's, I had a new respect for teachers in general.

I told myself I could never be a classroom teacher. 

I was being paid to run, do aerobics, dance, hop, and skip with the kids that told me every half hour I was their favorite teacher. 

There was nothing to complain about.

Until the school faced a wave of budget cuts, and the first thing whittled back was physical education.

I was told I would be placed in a second-grade classroom.

I had so much anguish thinking about teaching subject areas I didn't feel qualified to teach, I would up at night wringing my hands. 

Finishing the required 18 hours of continuing education made me a prime candidate to go into a classroom.

I had worked in the building for 5 years and knew all the ins and outs of the teachers that worked there.

I. Wanted. Nothing. Of. A. Classroom.

But, as luck would have it, my friend Lynette observed my feelings of inadequacy and offered to switch grade levels with me so I could be with the older kids. 

Older, yeah. 

They were ten.

Those first few months I pored over teacher's editions of the subjects I was to teach. 

A whole new world opened up for me.

I found I really loved being in the classroom.

For the next 30 years, I entered the school every day with gratitude for allowing me to have discovered my real love.

During my tenure as an educator, I shared a common bond with millions of teachers around the world. 

Our stories ran along the same thread. 

We could relate.

We paid union dues for some really great health benefits.

Our pensions were front loaded in a shared way with our district.

The profession was sought after for the benefits and not the salary, but honestly, that health care was second to none.

As expenses began to chip away at the entire package teachers were granted, there was a shift in the quality of people applying to the profession.

Signing bonuses, corporate ladders, and instant income of the business world claimed many who might have been great at teaching.

By the time I retired, the Michigan Education Association had taken hit after hit in supporting their constituency. 

The governor had allowed for open shop and not everyone was required to pay union dues.

The benefits packages were not front loaded any longer and plans received direct withdrawals from paychecks that hadn't grown incrementally and were no longer sustaining the employees or their families.

Today, teachers pay into a 403b account for the pension they fund themselves.
The majority of them rely on benefit packages in which their copay and deductible are higher than ever before.

Yet, the salary scales have not increased.

Why do I write this?

I just really want people to understand that those people in the classrooms every day are not there for an easy ride.

They are mandated reporters. They give life bolstering hugs. They assist with the future track of their students, whether in college advising, course suggestion, or trade school possibilities. They are with someone's child 8 hours a day and must be held to a standard that does not reflect judgment, philosophy, freedom of speech, religion of any kind, or non-inclusion. 

It is a big bite to take to be a teacher.

Honestly, I have seen some of the greats.

And I have also seen some of the not-so-greats.

As the Trump administration begins to do away with the Department of Education, I ask parents and teachers alike to be diligent in the evaluation of what's happening to public schools. 

There are certainly places to cut funding, but maybe after a thorough examination of what and how.

This takes time.

The Constitution seems to be challenged at every turn.

Public education is a right and should not be reduced to be less than desirable.

Governor Whitmer, if you need an advocate for the schools, look no further.

Thanks for listening. 








February 13, 2025

Wish you were here, but do you really?

Well, folks, here we are in the armpit of Winter. 

No longer captivated by the quiet solitude of a soft and silent dark evening, I turn to my computer to see what is going on.

I scroll pass the political posts until my fingers get sore.

Kendrick Lamar has them beat as one of the top posts on all the feeds, but I want something different.

Then finally, I come across people who are posting about their tropical winter escapes. 

 You know the ones with them wearing shorts or swimsuits.

Big straw hats. 

Cabanas. 

Palm trees swaying. 

Drool ... Sigh ...

I want to be angry but I'm not.

Instead, I close my eyes and dream of putting myself inside the frame. 

To just feel the warmth for a moment or two.

Yes. Many of you travelers are entitled.

I don't mean that in a negative way, either.

You have worked hard and lived plenty a Michigan winter.

Now, you can show what your years have gotten you?

I love to ride along in my imagination.

Social media has pretty much upended the traveling post cards. 

Oftentimes pictures taken with our cell phones are clearer ... and even better ...we're in them!

But I don't believe for a minute you post those pictures with the idea that you wish we were there. 

That's okay, really. I have done the same.

I just got in from a walk around the block with my dog Lulu.

I prepared both of us to endure the elements as we did the routine morning stroll. 

On went her harness and hooded sweater (No boots today, they won't stay on). I put on my boots, hat, scarf, gloves and snapped the metal trax onto my boots for footing. I counted out three collection bags, pre-opened them so I wouldn't have to stand there and freeze trying to pry the plastic ends (think plastic bags at the produce aisle are bad .... ?)

I opened the door to the winter wonderland that is Michigan.

Immediately, I gasped to breathe. 

The wind off the lake was like a brass knuckled punch. 

Lulu, on the other hand, began to gallop like a horse, dragging me to her favorite rest area a few blocks away,

The priest in the rectory glanced out the window as we passed. 

I wonder if he notices this place on the other side of the bushes is a favorite of all the neighborhood dogs.

We were there but a second and soon were flying back to the warmth of home.

This is why you post pictures of your vacations. 

Because for a few beautiful moments your skin, your face, even your mood is transformed, maybe for a day or week, maybe even longer.

I, for one, say good for you!! 

Bravo and thanks for sharing.

But there might be a teeny tiny shred of me, way back in the deepest part of my brain, that feels a green-eyed monster lurking.

For all you posting your winter escapes, please keep giving us a vacation place to shoot for.

 

We know that although you might not wishing we were with you, we thank you for giving us a smile and a peek at the sun and warmer times.

Thanks for listening.





February 9, 2025 

 What's the Agenda

  A good teacher knows that in order to alleviate feelings of anxiety in students, a posted agenda often solves the problem.

  As I watch things going down around me these days, as an adult, I figure a timeline to be not only necessary, but more important now. 

   It provides a type of ordinary, a sense of normal.

  Questions like:

  -What time does the plane arrive?

  -What steps to take to keep one safe.

  -What do I do in an emergency?

  -Is there a protocol for...?

  -What came first, the chicken or the egg?

  Inquiring minds not only want to know but need to know to stay alive.

  Until recently, we have had a sense of control over everyday things. We get data from sources that have been giving out that information for decades. With weather and NOAA, you can track the progress of a storm and develop your steps to prepare. If you are living in the frozen north, you can plan to travel when the pavement will be dry.  If you plan a budget on money you receive from retirement income sources, you can visit a website and know the date of the payment to you. If you are having cataract surgery, you have faith the doctor knows the steps in order. 

  Life is about getting from A to B predictably. 

  It is a source of soothing poultice when events get out of control. 

  Don't get me wrong, sometimes the most thrilling experiences come from unexpected places. But too many unexpected events can derail you.

  Have you ever come home from a crazy vacation to crave the normalcy of a schedule? Or did a silly thing and ate ice cream for all three meals only to know your body is giving out signals that enough is enough, you need a real meal?

  We need dependable. 

  We need things we can trust.

  As a person who has had the rug pulled out from under me a few times, I can tell you chaos breeds the kind of anxiety I wouldn't wish on my enemies. 

  The kind that causes you to lose your appetite to even chew and swallow food.

  The kind that holes one up in a house for days fearing to go out in public. 

  The kind that wastes fruitful time and occupies every lobe of the brain with red alerts, flags, and thoughts.

  I don't know about you, but I am feeling more and more people are in my boat right now. 

  And we need to get a stinking grip on what is happening to us. And we need to do it TOGETHER.

  We can't allow ourselves to be minimized or taken out of consideration.

  As human beings who rely on an established source for our very livelihoods, I think we deserve a right to be informed; to know when the paycheck arrives, that the job is secure, or we are kept safe. 

  Go ahead and take care of the swamp. 

  But save the species that has had to live in its foul water.

  Let us in on the timeline, the pace. 

  And by all means, tell us how we will all benefit from cutting the fat, as we are the ones on the diet.

  We aren't enemies.

  We are the American people.

  All of us. 

  We are the people who are the by the people in our nation's constitution.

  We are the people who volunteer and train to protect the freedoms upon which our country has thrived.

  We are the people.

  US.

  There is room in my boat for all of us to join together.

  

  Thanks for listening.

  

  

  

 





























January 25, 2025

The Measure of Love

You can learn a lot from dogs. 

Patience, yes. But so much more.

My puppy is starting to gray. She's approaching 6 years old and has become a part of me.

The amount of compassion she has taught me cannot be measured by time, money, influencers, or gaslighting.

(Ok. Maybe treats do play a role, but she is a dog.)

There is no second guessing how she feels about us when we come home, with her face at the window beside the front door. Each time it's the same measure of welcoming love, whether we have been gone for minutes or hours. We are her humans. Her job is to love us. 

I wish everyone could spend a few weeks with a pet as their only companion. 

They have so many lessons to share.

Like sitting patiently and not talking. So still as to interpret mood. Or laying a chin on the knee or hand, confirming the soulful solidarity we share. Even when they get curious about what is in the waste basket in the bathroom, they signify the overreach of the act with eye contact (or lack thereof). Most dogs know right from wrong.

It doesn't make me wonder why so many people leave their estate and legacy to pet shelters when they die. 

Shelter dogs aren't greedy. The only thing they want is a home.

I believe pets are a gift from the Universe to provide human beings with the example of selfless love.

And yes, it is excruciating that we lose them so quickly to short life spans when we mourn them more than any human; for sometimes their lessons are far from embedded.

But they are LOVE. 

We are allowed to receive it UNCONDITIONALLY, if we choose.

Mistreated pets are unfriendly. They have been ostracized because of their pedigree, the harshness of their bark, the uncontrollable urge to destroy things, or when the label of untrainable has been assigned to them.

But LOVE breeds LOVE, no?

It can ebb and it can grow. Once it is passed to someone else, the issuer is rewarded. Oh, if only the human race were onto the pleasure giving love, they would understand it would come back to them tenfold. 

What would you say your measure of love is today? 

Do you really catch more flies with honey?

On January 20, I spent the afternoon binge watching "What Would You Do?". It is an ABC series that puts actors in fictional situations where they must either take a moral stand or walk away. I kept the tissues nearby as episode after episode depicted ordinary 'joe's and jane's" stepping up to advocate for one another. In real life. Right here.  It IS possible.

Yet, when I watch situations unravel lately, I wonder why everything is so oppositional. Social media makes people bolder. Bullies hop onto any news feed and comment their heads off, fueled by rants so ugly, they are simply disgraceful. I thought I was sick of it before, but now? It almost feels like I am too helpless or exhausted to join the battle. I don't mean for one side or the other, either. Just the fundamental one. 

The LOVE one. 

I am not ready to give up on my fellow human beings who were born with hearts and brains, just like me. Who somewhere along the line were made to feel less than. 

You are not less than.

People are inherently good.

We will see this season through.

Get a puppy and a new way of thinking?


In the silence, in the patience, there you will find peace.

Thanks for listening.






Blog 6 Hand Wringing 

My daughter moved to LA about 4 years ago. She actually lives two blocks from the beach.

She's always been a water lover, and the draw of the Pacific Ocean captured her and caused her to move from her beloved Denver mountains to the long slow sunsets over the Ocean.

If you know me, you know I fret about all things.

Big or Small.

I don't discriminate.

I should have known that 2025 was coming in hot when events around me were becoming more and more unbelievable.

Like 'you've got to be kidding me, that sucks' unbelievable.

But last week, Chelsea sent me a photo of a single plume of smoke, she could see from a perfectly placid morning walking the beach. 

"Caught the smoke from a fire this morning" 

The caption was innocent even though my response was tongue in cheek. Too Close. 

The following morning, I began to receive several texts from friends and family about her safety in these fires. 

I am not watching the news these days so I had no idea that the single plume of smoke would be the beginning of a monstrous series of fires that are still burning as I write this.

Of course, I contacted her right away.

I am fine so far. Don't watch television and get off of social media.

But the lack of control and those stinking Santa Ana winds had me poring over any new source or hot spot.

By day two, the air quality in her home was rough.

She holed up in her apartment with her dog but was considering leaving for a while because the air she was breathing was getting worse.

Meanwhile, I am in Michigan and coming unglued. 

She lives about 15 miles south of Santa Monica and my nephew and his wife live closer.

This morning, she is driving out of there and will eventually get to her sister, Alyssa's, place in Denver.

As a mother of a daughter/son of any age, we stay vigilant through their ups and downs. We are supposed to be the strong ones when things get difficult.

I'm trying and it takes a real deep reach for me when I can't do anything to help her.

I am devastated for all the people who have lost everything in the homes that they loved.

I am also grateful for the lesson in humanity that we all need to take away from this catastrophe. 

It seems the trend of humans in present day America is to think their divisive comments and attitudes matter and thus start spouting off right away. 

No one cares what you think right now.

It's how you ACT.

These weren't all movie stars, you know. 

The fires are still a threat.

Do something for your fellow humans. 

Thanks for listening.


Blog 5    HAPPY NEW YEAR and Helpless? 

Holidays are so great. 

We forget our worries and woes and bask in the family soup.

But this year, just 3 days into 2025, I want to turn back. 

Things are so unsettled.

Yes, part of it is the world news I have tried to block out for the past couple months. 

I feel helpless and that's not a good feeling.  

For the life of me, I can't reconcile a person's need to put other people in survival jeopardy by stealing, making power grabs through lies, or acting out personal vendettas, or plowing into crowds of innocent people. 

And this isn't even talking politics.

Human beings were created for so much better than this. 

Why aren't we evolving? It feels like we are going backward.

This year has already presented itself with a black mark for me and my immediate family. 

I have always been the person who physically feels another person's pain. 

It's called being an empath.

When my people are in the center of the ring, I know they can handle their stuff, but the more things that go awry, the worse I feel for them. Because I know them, and they have positive motivation and are good humans. 

I guess mothers come by this innately. No matter how old we get, we will always go hard emo on anyone who abuses or comes close to hurting our kids.

For me, the relaxation and meditation exercises, prescriptions, and biofeedback just don't work. 

I always feel better when I am riding on the back of the bucking bronco. 

I now have the high blood pressure meds.

Although I will be thrown off time after time, it's the only way I feel I can make a difference. 

I have been watching the saga of a little girl on Facebook who is the granddaughter of my friend. She is very ill, and her mother, tired and disheartened at times, continues to post about progress both good and bad. 

I wonder about this poor mom. 

She's not sleeping. I doubt she's eating; her body on high alert that her daughter is in pain.

Because this is the fundamental instinctual goal of being a mother ... no matter how old the children get.

But the reality is there is no going back.

Our plates are already full of creating plans, strategies, and next steps.

If we stand still, we are doomed.

My new year mantra will be: Keep moving forward.

Stay tuned and thanks for listening. 






Blog 4   YOU ARE HOW OLD?

Two weeks ago, I turned sixty-eight.

And I am not feeling good about it.

Every show I watch or famous person I read about has me looking them up to see if they are my age or older.

It’s a bad habit.

I suppose I should be happy I have lived a solid life.

My daughter asked me the other day why I was so afraid to die.

I laughed.

This isn’t about dying or fearing it.

It has to do with the fact that I don’t feel like I am finished yet.

I want time to stand still while I complete my dreams.

I like to continue to look ahead and say, ‘someday I am going to do this …or let’s go there.’

I think I feel that time is fleeting; the window seems smaller.

Cranking out 2 novels in one year is a crazy accomplishment, yet it is driven by anxiety.

I want a legacy.

When I worked with some middle school students in Benton Harbor years back, I asked them to repeat this mantra in the mirror:

WHAT MATTERS MOST?

HOW DO YOU WANT TO BE REMEMBERED?

WHAT ARE YOUR PLANS TO GET THERE?

I guess I need to follow my own advice.

At this stage of the game, I need to remind myself that it ain’t over until it’s over.

I still can look forward to events and travel.

Reality checks are for the weak.

Because I am IN IT for as long as possible.

LET’S GOOOOO.

Thanks for listening.

Happy New Year everyone.


December 10, 2024

Blog 3

So You Want to be a Writer

First, I have to tell you, writing the story is the easy part.

Self-publishing is not for the faint of heart.

The thing is it seems so easy.

Cut and dried, really.

Until you hit a minor snag like:

Your cover is too large, then it’s too small, then the words don’t fit on the page, then the page disappears, then the help center doesn’t have live people.

I can see why there aren’t living people to call. It would be a rough customer service job.

It's easy to see why potential writers give up the process and place the thing they created on a shelf for later. 

Because after spending 13 straight hours in my pajamas on Saturday … and I’m not going to lie, there was cursing and crying, and I believe my dog thought I was out of my mind and hid… I finally wrapped it up and sent it in to be reviewed.

This is after, writing, reading, re-reading, changing some parts, and submitting to the editor to fine tune and find errors.

The manuscript gets modified over 20 times, I bet, before anyone actually sends it in.
 Honestly, I have forgotten the names of characters and may need to read the content again cover to cover.

If this process has done anything but make an old woman older, I can honestly say that it has, I want to warn all the fancy New York Times best-selling authors that even with your publishing houses and teams of people to pore over your book for mistakes, I still find them.

And when I do, it is so stinking gratifying to me.

So much so that I might get the red pen out, as Karen Palmer reminded me about yesterday, and I might go all teacher mode and mark up that book.

Some of the best books I have ever read were self-published novels. Or stories by students that they never intended to write. Drew Pursley wrote a story once about the time he got stomped in the chest by a cow. It was a 10-year-old's nightmare, but I remember the story to this day. 

Amazon carries many good authors who would like to be picked up by an agent.

I include myself among those folks raising their hand to be noticed.

If it happens, it happens.

But one thing -I can say is with all sincerity- I believe the labor of years of tabling, bringing back out, writing in new books before finishing others, is far more tedious than birthing a human baby.

You have to be ready for both. 

That’s right. I said it.

Thanks for listening. Mitten will be live by Thursday. Order your copy on Amazon.


December 1, 2024

Blog 2 

Winter Winter Winter

Well, Lady Michigan turned the page on Fall this week. 

Am I happy about it? 

Not so much.

I have suffered with Reynaud's Syndrome most of my adult life. My body seems to have a hard time regulating its own temperature. I have lost my fingerprints due to the constant shriveling of my cold hands. You would think at this time in my life I might have moved into sunnier climes. 

Sometimes I think I might do this next year. There have been many of those next years.

But this week I turn 68. It's mindboggling how this aging thing is screwing with my brain!

It is as if my past is a movie that happened to someone else.

MY message to myself should be to LIVE FOR TODAY. 

IN THE MOMENT. 

Blah, blah, blah!

Really? That's it? So many affirmations ...So little time.

I want to go back to the memories I have; to unwrap the things that make me who I am.

Everyone has a story to tell. Experiences felt through the eyes of one individual often appear differently from others. One has only to follow social media posts to figure that out.  This is what is so great about writing books. Although the events are mostly the same, perspectives change emphasis and meaning.  

So, as I traverse on in the writing phase of my life, I invite you to see things as they occurred through my eyes. You might think I am talking about you. Maybe I am, but I doubt it. 

Take a minute to write down your story. Read it to your kids or the significant people in your life. 

Thanks for listening.