A mother is our first shield and protector as she cares for us in the womb. She is the first voice we hear. Later, as we enter the world, she becomes a source of food and comfort. She is the first song we hear as she rocks us to sleep.

As we grow bigger, she is a teacher and encourager. She’s our biggest fan.

Through those wonder years of young adolescence, she teaches us how to express ourselves within boundaries and to be friends with all walks of life. My mother supported me during my bell-bottom, knee-sock wearing phase in middle school and taught me that to have friends, I had to be a friend (and not just with one particular group of people). She taught me how to stand up for myself. My mother is and was classy in how she approached people who were not so kind to me in those years. To be fair, kids at this age are trying to find themselves and sometimes that can be at the expense of others (doesn’t justify actions, but it happens). She didn’t run and call their parents. She taught me the value of loving myself for who I was. I had the choice in how to respond to negativity, and I was to be the bigger person. She also taught me how to dance in our den to a record player and not to take myself so seriously.

Later in high school, as I began to grow my wings, she supported me traveling through DECA trips. A mother prepares her nest for independence through tears and fear. She encouraged me in college to take a job in a field I was getting a major in, as I would know for sure that’s what I wanted to do. Mothers are wise.

When life has its disappointments (as they tend to do), a mother hurts as much or more than we do. If we so happen to face a scary diagnosis, a mother is there to be a support, even if it scares the hell out of them. My mother was at almost every chemo treatment of mine. I can only imagine how she felt at the time. Mothers put on a brave face for us and push us onward.

Mothers become our best friends- as I know mine is. They become the person’s voice we long to hear during the day and the hug we need at the end of the day, even as grown women. We find that we are more like them than we ever imagined as teenagers. I am blessed to call mine every day and see her as often and as much as I like.

Then, one day, we gain a mother-in-law, and she becomes a bonus mom of sorts. She welcomes you into her family with open arms and makes you feel a part. If you are so blessed as I am, she too becomes a friend. She teaches you as well and supports you.

If you so choose, you may become a mother (adopted or birth). It’s the greatest gift I’ve ever received-these two boys of mine. As I write this, tears well up in my eyes. I will try to be the mother I have (though I am not even close). You will never experience so much joy, happiness, fear, and pain as being a mother but yet someone you know God has chosen you to do the greatest honor.

Thank God for mothers (thank you for allowing me to be one).

A wise man once said (my father), “In our attempt to be different, we end up being the same as everyone else.” Those words have been rolling around in my brain all weekend. He said he, too, was a follower of sorts, but I beg to differ. I have always admired both my mom and him as I felt they were different- a good sort of different.

I question myself and wonder if I am authentic, and wonder if we really end up who we were meant to be. Or is it a constant movement in chipping away until the end? I should have all this stuff and myself figured out by now. I’ll be 40 in June, but some days I think I do, and sometimes I don’t.

I have always admired those who had a different beat in their head than the rest of us. They don’t seem to compare themselves to others and don’t care if what they choose to do is the next best thing. In a world of Pinterest Boards, Instagram, and social media for that matter, we now can compare ourselves 24 hours if we so choose to others across the globe. I argue that this is not healthy, or if in volume, rather. Yes, it’s good to get ideas- that’s how this world works, but losing yourself (a high price) is not worth it.

I am not sure what the point of my rambling is. I think I am trying to convince myself that I am authentic, but a silent voice within says, “Are you sure?” and I think, “No, I’m really not sure.” I just know I am trying, and I do generally care for people, about people. I want them to see me as someone who tries and fails.

I watched a movie last night- White Bird, and it really touched me. A family chose to hide a Jewish girl during World War II. It had me wondering- would I do the same, or would I be a follower of something that turned into something terrible, an atrocity? I’d like to think I would protect the least of these, but in a moment to protect my own, would I?

I have no resolution to tie this up in a neat little bow. We are simply humans, and humans are not perfect. I will keep trying and failing. I will do what my parents have taught me to do: love others, do not judge, think, and seek the truth. I think that’s all there really is in the end. The Beatles were right: “All you need is love.”

Photo Cred: Anderson Coplin – I once had my nieces put makeup on me, and he didn’t like it. This picture is how he sees me- no makeup and just his mom.

After 3 ski lessons and 2 wipe outs this year at Solitude, here are some things I’ve learned:

-You are running your own race. Someone is always going to be better and someone is behind you.  Be okay with improving yourself and not making comparisons.

-It’s okay to push yourself into something that is uncomfortable. That is called growth. It’s not supposed to be easy.

-At the same token, know yourself and your limits. Pushing yourself too hard will cause hurt and pain.

-Be willing to learn from others of all ages.  It’s fascinating to meet people from all walks of earth and how they view the world. It doesn’t mean you will agree on everything.

-Being someone’s cheerleader is equally or more rewarding.

-Relax. This is the hardest part for me. I’ve always been my own worst enemy.

-Stop and look around. What God has created is truly amazing and breathtaking.

-Finally, and most important, don’t take yourself too seriously and it’s okay to laugh at yourself. I encourage it. I encourage it daily.

Signed,

An almost 40 year old trying to ski

 

Fact the only thing that ever killed my chin hairs (yes, plural) was chemo. When I finished chemo, they sprouted back as if it were springtime and they had received fertilizer. Ugh!

I glanced in the mirror and began to see age spots from many summers on the ball field, tennis courts, and the DA pool. I applied my Pond’a cream, as I had watched my grandmother so many times.

I stepped on the scale and well, let’s just say it, and I don’t agree very often these days.

I jump on my stationary bike and then later eat bread like I’m magically going to lose the pounds. Lol

I’m realizing I’m the one who will need to make the changes if I want to see the changes.

The chin hair, well, that’s a case by case basis, and I’ll need to add tweezers to my car. Why is that the best mirror and a reminder when in car line?!

Yes, I know, give up the carbs or minimize. There are pricey facials to minimize age spots but that’s just it – minimize.

We know these things, but it’s so hard sometimes to make changes.

So, I will change some habits for my own health (not completely, if I’m honest), pluck the chin hair, and apply Pond’s cream. And I’ll also embrace these things as it means I’m aging – a blessing.

40 arrives in June. I’ll greet her with a high five, turn on some 90’s grunge, and be thankful. I’m not scared of her because she is me but like fine wine- aged and seasoned- she is alive.

It never quite goes away, the original cancer diagnosis. The disease may be out of your body, but the thought never goes away.

It finds you unexpectedly in a moment, and then the gratitude of the survival pours in.

It keeps you humble, grounded, and more thoughtful. It’s not so much a fear when it appears, but it can be.

It’s a part of you now, and you have the choice – lean in, be appreciative, and show that thing – that thing that scared the living hell out of you- tell that thing you that you are here. You are here.

Remember in The Wizard of Oz when Glenda (or for Wicked fans, Galinda) tells Dorothy all she had to do is click her heels to return home and Dorothy looks shocked. Glenda tells her she wouldn’t have believed her. Spoiler if you haven’t seen Wicked, there was also a train that went to Oz so Dorothy wouldn’t have to walk so many miles down the yellow brick road.

Life’s a lot like that. Sometimes we can’t see like the cliche says- the forest because of the trees and we have to learn the hard way or take a harder path. I feel I am on a ferris wheel sometimes- I’m way up and think I’ve got it figured out and then back on bottom, feeling hopeless. Most of the time I’m in between trying to figure out what the hell I should be doing.

According to a quick google search, 92% of our New Year’s resolutions fail. Reasons cited for failure include: unrealistic goals, poor motivation (not having a clear why), and the need for immediate gratification. So, I think Dorothy had motivation- get home, but she didn’t really understand the why until she faced some obstacles. Sometimes, we don’t appreciate what we have until it’s threatened.

How does one then make needed changes? We can’t be forced to be scared straight to get stuff done. Another quick google search points to the why we humans don’t like change-the fear of the unknown or feeling out of control. Humans also naturally seek out their comfort zone.

Have I thoroughly depressed you now? Sorry. I feel you need to know the reality of the situation first. Now, that’s settled, let’s think this through. I think change is something that you have to chip away at (gosh all these cliches I am full of today). Also, I think it also takes realizing when you are falling into the same patterns. Sorry, no clicking heels solution here.

I think to grow, it’s going to take some miles down the yellow brick road until we make it. So, I’m not going to end with my New Year’s resolutions. I am going to simply say, I’m going to try. Some days, I’ll conquer a little bit and some days, I’ll be back eating bread.

My prayer for your in 2025 is that you have the courage to make changes you know you’ve been putting off. Give yourself grace and time. You do have the power but you have to decide not me and not some lady floating around in a chewing gum bubble.

Dear Mrs. Claus,

I think it’s time you confess. Us women know it’s really you behind the Santa Claus thing. You are checking his list twice. You and the elves wrapped the presents beautifully. Let’s face it, no straight man can do that. I know you love your man and want him to have the spotlight. That’s what women do. We build up the ones we love and take a seat in the back to watch the show. I know because I’ve been blessed with a mom that is a secret Mrs. Claus, trading any attention for the betterment of her family.

Now, Mrs. Claus, I know you will not ever really come clean; that’s not your style. Honey, your secret is safe but we know no man can pull all that off in one night- it’s too organized. Also, women don’t want their faces on diet coke cans; they want to drink them without judgement and putting their face on the drink can would mean people would look at them.

Mrs. Claus- you really are classy, the way you stand by your man. Why, I bet Loretta Lynn wrote her famous song about you. You smile and behind the smile, we know you’ve been toiling the entire year. The elves, they help, all right but you missy are the star. Just like Mary-Gabriel came to her first- the angel knew she could handle it. Lord knows I wish I could be more like Mary. I thank God for Mary.

And, Mary on It’s a Wonderful Life– she’s the true heroine of the story not George. She gathered the community; she made sure the kids were okay while poor George was having a mid-life crisis. Don’t get me wrong I love George in that movie but as an adult, I see clearly who was making it all happen.

Now, men if you read this or your wife tells you about it, don’t get offended. We love you and in the end really don’t mind the behind the scenes. We love our families and want what is best for them. Occasionally, we do want to be reminded and appreciated but we are okay with the 2nd fiddle because a happy and healthy family is the greatest gift. Both Mary’s knew that and Mrs. Claus knows that.

So, Santa go showboating tonight. It’s your night. Polish those boots, button up that suit. It’s showtime! Mrs. Claus- pour a glass of champagne. Here’s to you! Prop up those feet, curl up with a good book and wait on your man to return. He gets the credit but we know, Mrs. Claus. We know.

Signed mothers across the ages everywhere.

As I sat listening to my sister talk, I noticed how much we actually looked alike. We were also finishing each other’s sentences. In a lot of ways were are different- her – artsy and musical, me- preferring lists and structure. However, for whatever reason, I realized how much we were alike.

Rewind the VHS tape back to the 90’s and our parents bought an Astro Van for 2 rows of seating just to avoid us arguing. She is older but back then, she was arguably older- high school to my middle school, etc.

Magically over time, this person, who would purposely eat sour cream and onion chips in the morning and sing “Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls” to annoy my best and friend me, became my person.

Middle School Ashley, in her own “emo” phase or “hippy chic” (my preference to my then wardrobe) and High School Andi (cheerleader, popular) tolerated each other.

Now with time are close sisters who cannot be trusted if they partake in sushi and wine (wink wink Andi).

When you look at Ruth and Naomi in the Bible, Idgy and Ruth, Thelma and Louise, you will also find Andi and Ashley.

You know we used to practice softball in the back of the Old School. We also played football with friends. We also snuck out a time or too to with a boyfriend to hold a sweaty palm or receive a kiss. We rollerbladed up and down the sidewalk at the Old School. We rode our bikes down the hill, flying into Pettus Street. We sat in front of the amazing columns that flank the entrance and climbed the rusted, metal steps of the fire escape that flank the building to look out onto Walnut Street.

We hit countless tennis balls against the back wall and ended up with poison ivy retrieving them. The Old School was our solace and friend. She welcomed us. We walked from our house to see plays our friends were in (some that left us too soon but were so incredibly talented). The parking lot during productions is still full- in front of the school and in its backyard. Our town is talented.

I did a Social Studies project one time about the Old School. Her history fascinated me and still does.

You see, my mama and daddy bought our house with pride. It was the first home they had ever owned. He walked by our very house every day when he was a kid from Strawberry Street to go to school. I do not think he would have ever dreamed of owning it one day or any house for that matter; they did not have much growing up.

We didn’t know there were other neighborhoods with people with more means. If we did, I don’t think we would have cared. We had friends that lived in our neighborhood that we would play and play until the streetlight sent us home.

Mama and Daddy worked tirelessly making this house a home-removing the undergrowth that for years had been unattended where the fence now stands, tearing down the carriage house, planting trees, and painting. A lot of love has been poured into this house and property- a lot of love and time.

Daddy, he built that fence with his very hands, when I was in 6^th grade and then recently after a storm blew it down. You may see this fence and think of it as replaceable, but I see my momma and daddy painstakingly working and decorating it with Christmas wreaths in preparation for COTR. Daddy has Macular Degeneration and has had since has was 15. So, you see building that fence was not an easy task.

Every COTR morning, parade riders are in the Old School yard, floats are lined up on Pettus Street. There’s a since of excitement in the air. The Old School plays host and offers her yard for parking for families to gather to watch the best damn Christmas parade in the state or country even. As kids we would walk over to see friends or go to the float we were assigned. Our dog Indy was our escort.

I haven’t lived at home since I was 18 but every time I visit, memories flood back. Indy, my favorite dog, is buried in the backyard. He was the best. He’d hang out with us at the Old School.

There’s a lot lately that’s been going on surrounding the Old School. The old beauty is in question. I silently sit and watch-not sure to what to say. I mourn at the thought of the loss of her green space. I’m torn as I want people to have a place to live. I pray for careful consideration of her; she has been with this community for some time. Don’t take her for granted. Don’t take my neighborhood for granted.

You see, this is my neighborhood too and it could be yours.

A view of the yard before the undergrowth was removed.

But we Yooks, as you know, when we breakfast or sup, spread our bread, with the butter side up. That’s the right, honest way! -Dr. Suess

And now my friends, I understand why the Grinch was perfectly happy being alone with his dog Max. All the noise, noise, noise.

The discourse that exists today is at a dangerously high level. I am not writing this to say that I have all the answers. My blog is really intended to be my outlet. I am not asking for you to agree on anything except that we definitely need more love right now.

What the world needs now is love, sweet love
It’s the only thing that there’s just too little of
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
No not just for some but for everyone

I watch the news and I am sad. I read comments on Facebook and I am sad. I go to church and I am sad.

When do we say enough is enough and just break bread? When do we start to value others as humans and agree to disagree?

I know naturally as humans we choose sides; we can’t possibly be friends with everyone. Everyone was made differently. I get that but I think we can choose to be kind.

I feel like I’m in an episode of the Twilight Zone and Rod Serling soon appears in his suit, smoking his cigarette. Imagine in a world where no one got along and sides were drawn daily. Social media is the weapon of choice in this divisive world and it’s winning.

Reality exists in the human mind, and nowhere else. -George Orvell

There was such episode where there was an experiment where the street lights were purposely controlled from afar and they were being turned on and off. Neighbors turned on one another and tried to decide who the “monster” was. In the end, the experimenters commented to something to this effect- it’s that simple. And indeed it is that simple, for us to turn to judgement and hate.

Dorothy was posed a question in Munchkin Land- Are you a good witch or a bad witch? Lines were already drawn. Maybe that’s why the evil wicked witch was angry. She looked different and thought differently so therefore she’s evil and they are not. Dorothy immediately responded that she wasn’t a witch at all. Maybe that’s the answer. Maybe we are just humans trying our best.

Let’s choose love in responding to our differences. Let’s choose kindness. Please, before I go and live above Whoville with a dog named Max.