Election Reflection

Years ago, when the presidential candidate I was supporting didn't win, I got a phone call at oh:dark-thirty the morning after the election. It was my grandpa. He didn't say hello. He didn't ask how I was. He simply started singing in his gravelly voice "Happy Days are Here Again!" 

My party was out and his was in.

The song was my grandpa's way of saying, in the immortal words of Dr. Beverly Hofstader, "Buck up, Sissy-pants!"

I swallowed my disappointment and congratulated him. My family has always been pretty diverse in our political views, but while the discussions were sometimes heated, we never let politics swamp the love we have for each other.

The truth of the matter is that we often agreed on basic values and goals for our country. We just had different ideas about how to get there.

I support the rights of those who feel they need to protest the outcome of the election. This is America. We started out as a rabble of seditionists and malcontents. Our system guarantees that we can say any silly thing we like.

What we can't do is assault people and break things. You lose me then. I stop listening because all I see is violence.

Besides it's not as if we are under the thumb of a distant king. We live in a democratic republic. If you don't like how things are done, you can work within the system to change things. And if there's one thing you can bank on in politics, it's that it's not a bullet train, always going forward. It's a pendulum. Over time, we swing from one extreme to the other, hoping to find the golden mean that makes the most people feel safe and happy.

I've been very upset by the way some folks have turned on family and friends over this election. One string of tweets showed up in my Twitterfeed from a woman who'd decided to cut her mother off from seeing her grandchildren because she didn't like the way her mom had voted.

Really? Disappointment over the outcome of an election is worth shredding your relationships with those who disagree with you? Might I suggest, as Oprah did, that you need to take a deep breath?



Our families, our friends and neighbors--these relationships are where we all live. Nothing that happens in Washington can impact our daily lives as much as these precious connections with others. My grandpa is gone now, but I still miss him dearly. In fact, even though I supported our president-elect, I can honestly say I would wish that the outcome of this election had been different...

...if it meant I could hear my grandpa sing again...

Shake Off the Autumn Blues

Yes, the leaves are erupting in a final blaze of glory. Pumpkin Spice lattes are available in every coffee shop. The air is crisp and fresh as the last of summer's heat fades away.

And yet, fall makes me a little melancholy. It's like reaching the end of a favorite book. Yes, I'll find another one worth reading, but I hate saying goodbye to this one.

Ditto for summer.

So I thought I'd share a few things that help me shake off the autumn blues:

• Visit a friend. I always feel better after I've spent some time with a buddy I can tell anything!
• Try something new. The DH and I have joined the community choir for the first time in years. We're loving the music our director has chosen for the Christmas concert! 
• Get some exercise. Whether it's a mile on the treadmill or walking the dogs, it always helps to move.
• Make a big pot of chili and invite some friends over to help you eat it. If you need a recipe, check out Jake's Lazy Man Chili
• Go to a high school football game! I hope your home team is doing better than the Fighting Marmots of Coldwater Cove. Even with 4 returning seniors, the coach isn't happy about their chances... 

How about you? What do you like to do to lift your spirits?

The Wheels Keep On Turning...

My Dear Husband found this picture of his grandfather the other day. The family legend is that this was the first car in the county where the DH grew up. His granddad saw a lot of technical innovation and advancement in his lifetime--powered flight, widespread use of electricity, and even the start of the space race.

And it got me thinking about all the changes I've seen. Yeah, I know. I'm about to date myself, but I'm willing to bet there are more than a few of you out there who remember the same shifts in how we lived. Here are a few of the things that I remember:

• Signs in my elementary school designating it as a bomb shelter. 
• Phone booths.
• When TV was only in black and white.
• When everyone thought the Beatles had long hair.
• Calculators that were bigger than a desk top computer.
• The VHS vs Beta debate when we decided to buy a machine that would allow us to rent our favorite movies. 
• When we entertained our kids on long car trips with "I spy," singing silly songs, and, my personal favorite, "The Quiet Game," instead of popping a DVD into the entertainment system. 

I'd love to hear what changes YOU remember.

How I met the love of my life...

Since Valentine's Day is just around the corner, I thought I'd share my personal "meet-cute" with the guy who became my DH.

I wasn't looking for him. In fact, I already had a steady boyfriend with a promise ring and everything. (I'm dating myself here. Do kids even still do the whole pre-engagement thing anymore?) Anyway, we'd been high school sweethearts before heading off to the same college. But then I met this other guy in the college chorale...

Not that I was a flirt or anything. I was not that kind of girl. But whenever our director had us gather around the piano or ring the room in rehearsal so we could hear the other parts better, I always seemed to find myself directly across from that guy in the bass section. He had a wonderful voice, rich as dark chocolate, and these deep brown puppy dog eyes. I sang across the room to him almost every day.

But when "The Voice" asked me out, I said no. I was already in a relationship and wasn't about to cheat. I wasn't that kind of girl.

The chorale needed some extra rehearsals, so "The Voice" called and offered to give me a ride. I was on his way, he said. Since I was a starving college student barely making my tuition payments, I was all about saving gas money.

So I said ok, but I wouldn't tell him where I lived. I asked him to pick me up in the church parking lot down the street. Small towns are notorious for gossip. People would talk if they saw some other guy picking me up at the house.

The free ride worked out well until after the rehearsal when he refused to drop me in the now dark parking lot. I had to tell him where I lived so he could see me safely to my door. He was a perfect gentleman. I decided he'd be a great friend.

Then I went to the college band concert and saw him playing the timpani. The pic of Animal aside, there is really something primal about a guy banging on a drum. It made me see him in a whole new light. I was still wearing that promise ring but I became hyper-aware of "The Voice," no matter where I ran into him. Evidently, he was keeping tabs on me too, because he asked me out again.

I said no. Even though things were getting rocky with Mr. Promise Ring, I didn't want to step out on him. I was not that kind of girl.  

But my friendship with "The Voice" grew. We started going to a weekly Bible study together (which I told myself did not count as a date!). We talked about deep things. He challenged me and made me think. His quiet confidence really drew me in. Even so, when he continued to ask me out, I continued to say no.

Then before I knew it, the spring term was ending and "The Voice," who was a year ahead of me in college, was taking the next year off to travel with a gospel team. If I didn't do something quick, I'd probably never see him again. And I suddenly knew I couldn't bear that.

Like Cortez, I decided there was no going back. It was time to burn the ships.  I gave the promise ring back to my high school beau. It wasn't fair to wear it when my heart was so taken elsewhere.

But that was only part of the equation. I'd turned "The Voice" down so many times, I couldn't wait for him try again. So I decided to break my personal rule and asked him out.

Yeah, I was that kind of girl!

Fortunately, he didn't play as hard to get as I did. He did still travel for the next year because when he agrees to do something, he sticks to it, but we carried on a distance romance via long letters and phone calls. I caught up with him in school and earned a 4.0 that year. We were engaged when he returned home, married a year later and graduated from college together a year after that.

Now, two kids, assorted pets, countless moves and forty years later, he's still the one I want to sing to every day.

Want to share how you met your sweetie? I'd love to hear YOUR story!

Christmas Secrets

When I was a kid, I was a firm believer in Santa Claus. The old gent was always very good to me and my sisters so I had no reason to be dubious. That's why, when a classmate tried to tell me he wasn't real, we almost came to blows.

But the seed of doubt had been planted, so I decided to find out for myself.

We always spent Christmas Eve at my grandmother's home. She had a wonderful old house with an oak banister she wrapped with pine boughs and a tree big enough to fill half of the living room. A wreath with a candle in the center lit every window. The only flaw in the place was that there was no fireplace, but my grandmother solved that problem by putting up a cardboard one for us to hang our stocking on.

How Santa Claus managed to enter the house through that cardboard fireplace was one of the great mysteries of my childhood. I'd always taken it on faith . . . until that Christmas.

That night, I waited, lying beside my sleeping sister, until the adults went to bed and the house grew quiet. Then, I heard a rustling in the living room below. I slipped out from under the covers and padded to the head of the stairs. Peering through the greenery, I discovered my grandmother below.

She was filling each of the stockings--a fragrant orange in the toe, nuts and hard candy on top of that, and a small toy in each. Before she could catch me out of bed, I tiptoed back.

Well, as it turned out, my classmate was right. There was no Santa Claus. But I learned I had something even better--I had a grandma who loved me.

When did you learn the truth about SC? Do you still believe? ;-) 

Things my grandmother taught me...

When I teach a writing workshop, I often ask "What's the most attractive quality in a hero or heroine?" I get tons of responses, but rarely the one I'm looking for. I think the best character trait I can give my imaginary people is the willingness to sacrifice themselves for those they love.

The idea comes from my grandmother. She was a lovely lady in every sense of the word. Whip-smart, she skipped a couple of grades in school, graduating at 16. She's one of the few people I've ever known who truly never said a negative thing about another person. She was love on two feet.


My uncle once told me about something she did for him when he was a little boy of about 9 or 10. They lived on a farm, dependent on water from their well. One time, it got clogged up so they had to drain it to clear out the muck that had collected. After most of the water was drained, someone needed to go down and send up buckets of mud until the well was cleaned out. My granddad lowered down my uncle because he was small enough to fit in that tight place, yet strong enough to do the job.

As he rode the bucket down, the sky above him became an ever-shrinking circle of blue. The sides of the well were dank and slimy. He was afraid every chink in the stone hid a multi-legged creature or a water snake.

My uncle started to cry.

My grandmother told my granddad to haul him up. Then she put her foot in the bucket and took his place at the bottom of the well.

By the time he got to this point in the telling of this story, my uncle could scarcely speak. His mother went down into that dark hole for him. She'd have walked through fire for her children.

I was blessed to have my grandmother in my life until well after I had kids of my own. Toward the end, she developed Alzheimer's, and, one by one, stopped recognizing those who loved her. The last to go in her mind was my uncle.

It was a long, painful goodbye.

That's why, when my friend Tammy Falkner invited me to contribute to an anthology to benefit Alzheimer's and brain health, I jumped at the chance. It's a chance to honor the memory of my grandma.

Forget Me Not is an anthology of ten short stories by ten different authors who are donating 100% of the proceeds. I hope you'll join Tammy Falkner, Jane Charles, Ava Stone, Marquita Valentine, Lj Charles, Andris Bear, Jerrica Knight-Catania, Caren Crane and Diane Franks and me to help combat this terrible disease.

Forget Me NotA charity anthology to benefit Alzheimer's research

10 ink artists auditioning for a shot at working at the parlor of their dreams
10 skins, each with a story to tell
10 perfect tattoos so they'll never forget
A little bit of healing
A whole lot of heart

Now available for pre-order on Amazon and iBooks!
More formats coming soon.
Read an excerpt here...

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If you've lost someone to Alzheimer's, please share. It's good to remember those we love, even if they can't remember us.