A prayer for Thanksgiving, one more time

ThanksgivingPrayerI first published this in 2017 then most recently in 2021. Each time I read it, even though I wrote it, I seem to find something different to ponder. For example, this year – “while I think of all that I am thankful for I’ll manage to miss most of them.” We take too much for granted, our blessings, our talents, and most sadly, our fellow humans, often even the ones that occupy space right there next to us.

Wednesday at the ROAMcare site we will post our annual Thanksgiving greeting, this year encouraging all to express their gratitude for the many little things done for us throughout the day, things that seem to just happen like that extra cup of coffee you didn’t have to get up for. Maybe by concentrating on, and being grateful for, and expressing our gratitude for the little things, the big things will fall into place like they just seem to happen.

I’ll start – thank you all for opening your computers or tablets or smart phones and reading along with me. Your virtual presence adds to my day and lets me know I’m valued.

Enjoy the run-up to the holiday! May your week be filled with expressions of gratitude for all the little things you do. You know, the ones that don’t just happen.


Today is Thanksgiving in the United States. It was or will be likewise around the world. Everybody is thankful for something and most nations have managed to work in a holiday to legitimize the feeling.

I don’t know how others do it but Americans have been managing to delegitimize feelings quite efficiently lately. We’ll tout our tolerance and claim to accept all and then slur anyone who doesn’t feel the same and blur want for welcome. We support everything and everyone as long as it or they support us in the manner to which we think we should be accustomed. Our gratitude for what we have is matched by our appetite for what we don’t.

Sometime today while I think of all that I am thankful for I’ll manage to miss most of them. So will everyone else. Mostly we’re not bad people as much as clueless ones. Clueless to the differences between our reality and the one that’s really out there. And clueless to how much we rely on what we don’t even know is happening.

So when you give your thanks today that hopefully you won’t restrict to just today I offer you the prayer I started today with.

Heavenly Father, this is the day set aside to give thanks for Your surpassing goodness to human beings. Let me give proper thanks for my blessings  –  those I am aware of as well as those that I habitually take for granted. And let me use them according to Your will.

Happy Thanksgiving today and every day you think to be thankful.



Do you feel like the time from Halloween until the day after New Years Day is your Winter Holiday Stress Zone? We do and we wrote how Toilet Paper Wisdom makes things roll along a little more smoothly. Check it out at Uplift! It only takes 2 minutes. You can spare that in your holiday prep plans and maybe even walk away a little de-stressed.


Not news is good news

There is a news column I read every Friday that amazes me, week after week, without fail, no matter how busy or slow the week has been. That column is from Associated Press, “NOT REAL NEWS: A look at what didn’t happen this week.” It’s not just the boring round-up of social media posts that only a complete idiot would believe. For those you can go any day of the week to apnews.com and click on “Fact Check” in the menu bar. No, the weekly summary has the most egregious findings, sprinkled with one or two that will tickle even the most astute news hound.

For example:

A couple days after Halloween, the AP debunked the claim made in a video of drones erecting a skeleton next to and the size of the Burj Khalifa in Dubai, the tallest building in the world at more than 2,716 feet tall (actually 2,716 feet and 6 inches or a little less than 2&1/2 Empire State Buildings). The video with the caption, “Dubai’s #Halloween drone show takes an eerie turn with a spooky skeleton in the sky,” was viewed on TicToc over 8.5 million times and shared to other social sites including the one formerly known as Twitter where some yo-yo claimed the decision to erect the skeleton “sparked outrage among many muslim countries, who view Halloween a ‘satanic holiday’.” The yo-yo notwithstanding, I think it’s hilarious that anybody could believe a corps of 200 drones could build a 2700+ foot skeleton and nobody on the mall next to the building noticed. (In the video, people, at the location were just walking about like nothing was going on. (Imagine that!)) I wish I had a copy of the video to share but it’s since been removed.

Or how about this:

Did you know that the Salzburg Airport in Austria has a help desk specifically for people who intended to fly to Australia? I myself saw that post sometime during the last week of October on the site formerly known as Twitter and said to myself, “Self I said, ‘hahahaha!’” Apparently enough people believed it that the airport posted a clarification on their Facebook page that no such help desk exists, and the AP (and others) published a fact-check on it. It’s a story that illustrates the power of the internet and the stupidity of the human. There really was such a sign, sort of, made as an advertisement by home security company Commend International that hung in the baggage claim area as part of an ad campaign they ran in 2009!
Notice the differences including the original tag line, “Commend provides security…for even the most unlikely of situations”:

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Sign at Salzburg Airport (📷Facebook (Commend International))

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If you’re having a bad day, just remember that the airport in Salzburg, Austria has a counter for people who flew to Austria instead of Australia. (Social media post (📷 apnews.com))

Naturally not all the fake news they uncover is fun stuff like these. There are the usual suspect ballot stuffing, voting machine flipping, he said/she said accusations, and general mis- and disinformation pieces that fill most of the column, but the occasional fun ones make up for those you scratch your head over and wonder why someone would bother putting something together that is so outlandish.

I wade through the nonsense so I can get to the fun nonsense and have a good chuckle over it all. There’s always something there to laugh at. Especially around the holidays. I can’t wait for Christmas when they will be fact checking stories of a fat man wearing a red suit breaking into some politician’s house through the chimney, with the intent of keeping the politico from appearing at the next debate or something equally stupid.


Did you ever stop to think that maybe all motivation is self-motivation. We did and we wrote about in the most recent Uplift! See what we had to say about it then tell us if you agree.


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Gratefully yours

Yes, November is Gratitude Month and before it is over, we will also have celebrated Thanksgiving in the USofA. (I wonder… In Canada, Thanksgiving is celebrated in October. Is October Gratitude Month up there? C’mon, Canadian readers, fill me in!) To be honest, Thanksgiving and Gratitude Month in any country are not what I was thinking when I typed in that title. I was thinking more along the lines of letters. No, not A B C letters. Correspondence letters.

I was just at the post office buying stamps, stamps that have gone up in price again since the last time I bought them. (I go back to 5 cent first class postage, 4 for second class. Do we still have second class postage?) (Anyway…) As I was swiping my debit card through the card swiper I was thinking to myself for as often as the price has gone up, what a bargain postage still is. For 66 cents you can send a letter or card up to one ounce anywhere in the country. (For the curious, 4 sheets of paper + envelope is about an ounce.)  For $1.50 you can send that same card or letter (or one very similar) to 130 different countries, as close as Canada (remember than next October if you want to wish a Canadian friend Happy Thanksgiving), or as far away as Australia (the Australian territory of Norfolk Island celebrates Thanksgiving the last Thursday of November so you better and get your card to the post office now since it will take 2 to 3 weeks to get there). (I said it was a bargain, not a rush.)

I still write cards and letters, and not just at Christmas. There is something wonderfully personal about getting a greeting in the mail among all the sales flyers and invitations to open a new credit card. (But as much as you will hear me complain about spam email and text messages, I will never disparage junk mail. Those bulk mailers are spending a lot of money on postage and keep our postal expenditures manageable.) If you want to really say thank you to a friend for nothing more than just being a friend, you’d be hard pressed to come up with a more delightful way to do so than with a card or a hand written letter. Hand printed works too.

That’s all I got for now. No, one more thing. As I was resetting clocks over the weekend I realized how, even in this day of everything being connected (and/or “smart”), how many clocks I have that still need set by hand. And I still haven’t gotten to the cars. How about you?

Okay, so now get out and send your best friend a thank you card for putting up with you. Heaven knows they likely deserve one!


Speaking of best friends, deep friendships exist to remind each other that people are lovable without having to perform for it. But not without having to work for it. Read what we have to say about the work it takes to love somebody in the most recent Uplift! Love’s Struggles. (Approximate reading time – 4 minutes. That’s not so bad.)


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Happy Halloween Eve

Happy Halloween Eve or as those in the know know, Happy Candy Corn Day! The second best holiday of the entire calendar. (The first best? Groundhog Day, obviously.)

In honor of Candy Corn Day, I’m not going to write about Candy Corn because of all the Candy Corn haters out there. I’m no fool. I keep controversy out of my blog, except for the occasional rant about guns in airports.  Here’s a good one. At the Pittsburgh airport (which two weeks ago set a record for most guns confiscated in a year with 11 weeks still to go), they stopped a bozo from Mississippi trying to go through security with a loaded handgun, two extra fully loaded clips, and a box of ammunition.  No word on if he claimed he forgot they were there. Here’s my question. The numbskull is from Mississippi, and he was stopped in a Pennsylvania airport with his cache. Did he just happen to find an irresistible sale on guns, clips, and bullets and snagged his booty in between visits with Aunt Emma and Great Grandmama? Or did he somehow manage to get all that hardware through security in Tupelo a week earlier? This is who you’re flying with people!

Anyway, let’s talk about Candy Corn. You will notice I capitalize the candy and the corn because it’s clearly worth special recognition. And I’ve given it just that. Over the years I’ve written about Candy Corn nearly as often as I have about guns in airports. (But nowhere near as often as Groundhog Day. I have my standards you know.) I think my favorite was this one, Why did the turkey cross the road? You know it must be good because it doesn’t even have Candy Corn in the title. Admittedly much of it recounts my adventure when I was stopped from proceeding up the road by a flock of wild turkeys (the non-alcoholic kind). But Candy Corn makes a surprise appearance toward the end. You should give it a read if you haven’t, or a re-read if you have. Take note, it was written in 2000 when we were being advised to keep our family holiday extravaganzas on the minimalist end of the banquet spectrum.

It was 2014 when Candy Corn got its first starring role in a RRSB blog, Children of the Candy Corn, when I mentioned the many things you can do with it, culinarily speaking. My favorite is still Candy Corn and Prosecco. And it was 2018 when in Corn, Sweet Corn, I expounded on Candy Corn’s claim to being the perfect food even though most autumn offerings push that nasty old pumpkin spice on everything and everybody.

So there you have it, a post not about Candy Corn. A post about other posts about Candy Corn yes, but not about Candy Corn. I stick to my agreements. And I promise never to forget I have an arsenal in my carry-on bag.

Happy Candy Corn Day!


There is no perfect in nature, not even Candy Corn, but there is a lot of beauty. In the most recent Uplift! Beautifully Imperfect, we ask, isn’t that what makes life so special? It’s one of our best and you really should take a couple minutes to explore why we say imperfection is so beautiful.


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Time zones

I just hung up from what I consider the most annoying, most useless, and most aggravating of all phone calls. Even more of all the above superlatives than the calls that promise they can submit my paperwork and get me the payroll reimbursements for my personnel costs during the pandemic shutdowns (which considering I have no business and thus no employees I would have paid, that would be such a great trick they should go on the Las Vegas stage with it). No the most annoying, most useless and most aggravating of all phone calls are the doctor appointment reminder calls.

I am absolutely serious about that. Those are the most of all the above and I hate them. Despise them. Abhor them. And yes, I’m probably making too much of them, but by gosh they bother me.

First of all, they aren’t the pleasant receptionist at the office going through the upcoming week’s schedule making the calls. They are the cheapest versions of the most primitive robotic callers that make the computer on the original Star Trek series sound like Barbra Streisand.  You must know the script.

“Hello. This. Is. The. Office. Of. Doctor. VeryImportant. Calling. For. PatientFullName. If. This. Is. PatientFullName. Please. Press. One. If. This. Is. Not. PatientFullName. Please. Press. Two. I’m. Sorry. I. Did. Not. Understand. Your. Response.  If. This. Is. PatientFullName. Please. Press. One. If. This. Is. Not. PatientFullName. Please. Press. Two. Thank. You. This. Is. The. Office. Of. Doctor. VeryImportant. Calling. To. Remind. PatientFullName. Of. An. Appointment. On. Tuesday. October. Twenty. Fourth. At. Ten. O. Clock. In. The. Morning. Please. Press. One. To. Confirm. This. Appointment. Or. Press. Two. To. Speak. With. Someone. To. Reschedule. I’m. Sorry. I. Did. Not. Understand. Your. Response.  Please. Press. One. To. Confirm. This. Appointment. Or. Press. Two. To. Speak. With. Someone. To. Reschedule. Thank. You. We. Look. Forward. To. Seeing. PatientFullName. Soon. Para. Continuar. En. Español. Presione. La. Tecla. Estrella.

If that’s not bad enough, these calls come after the text message reminders, email reminders, and reminders through the hospital system patient “Portal.” Portal schmortal. It’s an app just like McDonalds or Dominos!

Maybe I’m just a bit overly sensitive to these intrusions because after being discharged I now have follow-up appointments with every doctor I’ve ever seen in the last 18 months and each one wants to make sure I get there without delay. Sheesh!

Who they really should be calling are the doctors to remind them they have an appointment with PatienFullName Tuesday morning and get your ass into the office on time!


We start as one of one. Some find another as one of two. Some love others selflessly as one of one-plus. The luckiest of us learn to love and share as much as we can as one of many, becoming community. You read one of one and one of one-plus here, now read the rest of the story, one of many at Uplift!


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one of one-plus

Last week I took a shot at regaling you with tales of spending a week in the hospital and coming home alone. Naturally the perfect followup to that would be (to take a shot at) regaling you with tales of spending that recovery week not quite alone. Yes, even though I made a big thing out of how hard it is to not be well and be alone, versus when you are a one of two, I wasn’t completely alone in my recovery week. Not quite not alone but definitely not alone.

I closed last week’s post with, “When one of two is missing, the void seems bigger than when one of one is gone. And when one of one returns, the welcome home is much less welcoming. I can probably write an entire post on that. Maybe I will someday.” Never to not pick up such a tempting gauntlet as that, I will accept my own challenge. Sort of.

First, to those who had asked, I am fine and anticipate I will grow even finer as the days march by. I made it through the first week out of the hospital without returning to the hospital and that’s not something I can say about all of my discharges. Fortunately, I had a lot of help. As I said, I was not completely alone last week. I had help. Not “one of two” help, maybe more like “one of one-plus.” Between my daughter and my sisters for some physical assistances and a handful of friends for mental, emotional, and at times even comical support, the week moved along faster than I figured it would.

It is a big boost when someone you typically connect with primarily through text messages makes time in her schedule to call at least once a day every day to check on how things are going. It is as big an aid to recovery as having someone stop in to do the heavy lifting portions of the never-ending household chores that one with a newly prescribed 5 pound lifting limit and prohibitions against bending and stretching cannot take on alone. Yes, it is not a secret that physical recovery does not happen, or happens very slowly, without mental and emotional recovery tagging along.

I recall that first discharge from so many years ago, the physical helpers were there but there was a distinct void where someone, some ones, or anyone who might call just to see how things were going could have been. What was most disheartening was that there should have been at least one someone, but the call that came rather than a message of support was of the “I didn’t sign up to be a nursemaid” type. And with it a rather rapid descent from the stratospheric one of two to the heartbreaking loneliness of a one of less than one.

Fortunately, over the years I discovered a handful of contenders willing to be part of my one of one-plus entourage. True, the other one of a one of one-plus won’t be there to help you into bed, or to wake you when your due for medication or a dressing change, or tell you, “Sit still! I’m perfectly capable of making us breakfast,” as I imagine the other one of one of two would, somehow it is easy to imagine they would if things might had been just a bit different. And a one of one-plus will always be there on the other end of a phone call or text message, or email, or even a card or letter when you least expect it, or at least when you least are thinking about it for a while and add to your emotional recovery.

The best one of one-pluses are those who take their role seriously, as seriously as a one of two partner would. Maybe even more. Let’s face it, a lot of one of two partnerships exist because of some compromise or even a little unspoken quid pro quo. Sometimes a lot of quid pro quo. A one of one-plus is more selfless and unconditional. There is nothing you are getting back for your love and concern except maybe someone’s love and concern. A friend of mine, a one of one-plus with me, said “Being one of one can be isolating. Being one of two is ideal. But being one of many makes a community. We all need each other and do better when we feel cared for and important to somebody.” I suppose if we put all my one of one-pluses together we can make a “one of many” community. (Now that might make for an interesting blog too. In fact, that sounds like just the thing we’d post at the ROAMcare blog, Uplift!  Maybe you should make a note in your calendar to check that out this Wednesday.)


Speaking of Uplift! In the latest post we wondered, if “In case” added to your declaration is a positive account of caution and a potential response to a situation, is “just in case” just a poor excuse for a poor choice? Read it here to see what we had to say about that.


Hey, here’s an extra thought if you know someone who could use a hand and you’re feeling one-plus-like. Dinners that can be heated and eaten are great but think outside the oven. Rides to labs or tests are great stress relievers and don’t often run unpredictably late like a doctor appointment may. And back in the food arena, if your someone is a big breakfast eater, a prepared morning meal is just as appreciated, if not more than an evening meal. A French toast casserole, or stack of frozen waffles makes a nice change for someone who may be too unsteady in the morning even to work a bowl of microwave oatmeal. My best meal “gift” ever was a bag of frozen breakfast burritos my daughter worked up. A few minutes in the microwave and a cup of yogurt with fresh fruit and I had a breakfast that kept me well through lunch and the only thing I needed to work was a spoon.


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one of one

The chances are very good that while you were reading last week’s post, I was in the hospital. I don’t know how I ever decided on the time, but for years I have had the posts scheduled to published between 4 and 4:30 prevailing eastern time Monday mornings. Last Monday at 7:30 in the morning I was in route to the emergency room. I’d say don’t worry, it’s nothing serious, but seriously, can you ever say that with a straight face with an emergency room visit a part of the equation. But I can say, don’t worry. I’ve been down that road before.

There are parts of me that pretty much resemble a high school science experiment and to be perfectly honest, work just about as well. Things leak, things creak, sometimes things need a better tightening than the local mechanic, er the office physician can provide. So please don’t worry. In fact, that’s kind of the whole point to this post.

I have a feeling I’ve said sometime before that I had never been inside a hospital other than to work or to visit someone in one for the first 55 years of my life. No broken bones, no falling off bikes, no unexpected allergic reactions. Once I did take a nasty fall while rappelling but that was dealt with in a first aid tent so I’m not going to count that. No, that first part, probably first and second parts of my life, involved minimal medical management. But man did I make up for it since. And all that time, I’ve done it without a significant or even insignificant other at home, rolling bandages, and preparing for my return with anxious anticipation, overflowing TLC, and bowlsful of chicken soup. Nope. Just me.

Oh, please don’t mistake that for self-pity nor misunderstand that nobody is in some home, some where worrying a tad that I return to my home. And they will even stop by with chicken soup or its 21st century equivalent. But there will not be that person who when she might step out into the porch for the day’s mail, holler back to the neighbor “No, he’s not on a trip but was admitted to the hospital a couple days ago. How nice of you to notice and ask. I’ll be sure to tell him you did.”

Kind of funny isn’t it.  An odd thing to think about. But it’s been thought before. I had one hospitalization that went on for several weeks. At the time, it wasn’t unusual for me to be away for some days at a time for something work related. No one might have even realized I wasn’t at a conference in Las Vegas until the priest on the second Sunday I was in the hospital included me when he asked for prayers for our sick parishioners. I know no one would have noticed because that’s exactly what my next-door neighbors said when they popped in to visit that Sunday afternoon.

When one of two is missing, the void seems bigger than when one of one is gone. And when one of one returns, the welcome home is much less welcoming. I can probably write an entire post on that. Maybe I will someday. Not today. Today I’m going to try to get to sleep a little earlier than usual. Yesterday was my first full day home. Hopefully whenever you get around to reading this, I am still home.


Gene Kranz was the director of NASA mission operations and is noted for the modern mantra, failure is not an option. Or is it? We say what we think in the latest Uplift!


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Believe in your shelf

What is the motivated librarian’s morning mantra?

“I believe in my shelf.”

I have to admit that just tickles me! I’m working on adding a new piece to my collection of positive presentations. Clearly that’s the opening line for a self-motivation module. Actually, that’s the only line so far and I fear for its inclusion in the final product because I do like it so. Or should that be I do so like it? I so do like it? Now wait a minute. I don’t fear for its inclusion because I like it. I like it and therefore I fear that it might not be included. Oh, this is all too complicated. Hmm. How about – I hope it’s still around when I’m down to the final draft because I like it. That’s better.  Now if I can come up with another 5,000 words to tack on the back end of it, I might have something.

Words have always fascinated me. So has motivation. Motivating words though…sometimes they can come off either preachy or disingenuous. I like the ones that have a bit of humor about them. Even somewhat punny like believing in your shelf. Find that hook that will make people laugh, smile, or even groan and roll their eyes, and from there you can’t seem to be anything but genuine! I think I’ve found a good balance in finding a way to ease into a motivational speech without it sounding like a motivational speech. At least that’s my goal. Why? This might sound like justifying myself, I think all motivation is self-motivation. I don’t believe I, or anybody else, can motivate anybody else. I can encourage you. I can try to help you create a positive atmosphere. I can show you some positive examples of what I’ve done. From those you will find the reason you want to do or not to do, and you, I believe, are the source of all of your motivation.

In you recall form the post Motivating the Motivators from earlier this year, I wrote, “We’re not psychologists, behaviorists, sociologists or any kind of -ist, just a couple people who’ve been through and seen a lot and want to share our experiences with others,” when I was speaking of how my ROAMcare partner and I go about prepping our Moments of Motivation. I’m still just a person who’s been there and done some of that. And some of that has been to read and listen to some of the seemingly most motivating of motivational speakers (based on reviews and numbers of times they’ve been cited in other’s motivational writings and speeches). And to be honest, I don’t always get it. I don’t even often get it. I know I am not in a position to be critical of that which I hadn’t formally studied but aren’t those (as in we, which includes me) to whom these guys are directing their words?

Personally, I think I’d get a lot more out of a talk on motivating myself if the speaker or author (or, let’s face it, never either, always both), began with a cheesy librarian pun and then spoke across the table to me rather than standing on stage, flailing their arms as they exhort me to remember that it’s never too late to be what I might have become. All due respect to Mr. Eliot, or rather Ms. Evans and those who quote her, often not citing her, yes it can be. And if it isn’t, then pray how or how not?

I on the other hand, might lean toward a different Eliot/Evans quote. “What do we live for, if not to make life less difficult for each other?” Now that is an idea I can get into, helping others, being there for them, easing burdens. Listening for the opportunities to help others. There is the potential to be a source of comfort, and by extension motivation, for the giver as well as the receiver. As a non-ist, that’s what I want to hear.

And so, I’ve started my file and have happily typed out, “What is the motivated librarian’s morning mantra? ‘I believe in my shelf,’” and just as happily have stared at that screen for a few days waiting for more to fall out of my brain. It will happen. Why? Because I believe in my shelf too!


It is your choice how you act toward others, but it is not how they react to you. Their responses are as much out of your control as the weather. Or are they? Read what we think about that in the latest Uplift!, To everything a season.


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Happy Places Revisited

I presented a program last week based loosely on a blog post from last year. I had titled the speech “Finding the Happy Places,” and right from the start I wanted to make it clear that you could be right thinking I meant happy places as a plural because I was speaking to a group of people, but in fact, I would have still referred to multiple places even if I was speaking to a single person.

I publicly eschewed the notion that there is a happy place we strive to reach where we escape the world and its problems. In fact, the premise to the presentation was that each of us has many, many happy places that are of the world, and there are where we relive happy times even though consciously, we may not remember the event that led to that happy memory. “The memory may have long faded while the space remains a special place for you,” I said more than once. An example I shared is a large, overstuffed chair in my bedroom. This particular chair is old, maybe older than I am (gasp), but my daughter cleaned it, repaired it, refurbished it, just for me. At least once a day I sit in that chair, and at least once a day I smile to myself and feel good about it. While I sit in that chair I may or may not associate it with the work and the love my daughter put into it, but each time I sit in it I feel welcome, warm, loved. I feel happy. It is one of my happy places.

I’m not sure how I got interested in these miniature moments of happiness and their attendant places of lasting good will. I think I am more sure of why we experience them. And to be clear, I’ve never heard this explanation before although I’m sure someone much smarter than I already figured it out and perhaps even wrote one of the perennial bestsellers in one of the many sections of the local bookstore I rarely walk through. But I think, I think, they are there to keep us if not young, at least upright and moving forward.

Every now and then I’ll reveal some small part of me although I can’t imagine anyone reading these words having a complete picture of me. For the record, I’m feisty enough (I suppose that is the polite word) to be certain I will live to be 100, but realistic enough to question whether I will be around to blow out the candles on my seventieth, and that is coming up, just past the next couple stop lights. Although for almost all my adult life I have worked in hospitals or their related clinics, I was 56 before I ever experienced a hospital from a patient’s point of view, and it was 8 months after that first admission that I was eventually discharged to home, all that just the first in a series of ins and outs over the next 6 years. So you might be correct thinking happy places may not abound in my recent life. You might be.

Very few would mistake a hospital as a happy place except perhaps those visiting the maternity wing. But of all those nights I spent sleeping in a hospital bed, there were very few when I would say, “Ugh, another day and another one like it to look forward to tomorrow.” No, no! Most nights I know I fell asleep thinking, “this wasn’t a bad day, and I know tomorrow will have to be better.” Yes, maybe for the first few weeks I grumbled and groaned myself to sleep, but after a while, even the hospital held its places of positivity. Where were they? I don’t know. More correctly, I don’t remember. As I said (more than once), “The memory of the event may have long faded while the space remains a special place for you.”

Is there a point to all this rambling? (Other than it’s Monday and you’ve come to expect to see ramblings from me on Mondays.) The point I tried to make, that I wanted to make while I was speaking, is to stop running away! You don’t have to escape the world to be happy. Happiness is within your reach and comes from how you interact with the world. You won’t find happiness “out there” at that mythical place where society wants to escape. It’s “right here” at the mystical places where our memories live, where our loves live, where we find the good from all the days past, and where we know it will be there in the days left.

I closed my speech with this. “Someday you will be walking along with someone and for no clear reason you will start to feel a warmth about you, a glimmer will hit your eye, and a smile will break out across your face. Whoever is with you will look at you and say, “What?” And you will answer, “Nothing. You wouldn’t understand.” And that’s how you know – you just walked through a happy place.”

So tell me…where are some of your happy places?


There is no shortcut to success and the most successful are those most passionate about being patient. That’s why we say Patience is a Passion in the latest Uplift!


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Encore again

Don’t look at me like that. I thought I was done too, but you know, sometimes it takes more than one trip to the curb.

When I’m not writing or speaking, I’m reading or listening. Listening to a really good speaker is fun because I can imagine what the speaker was doing or going through as I hear the words, see the movement, and feel the emotions as the speech unfolds. It gets interesting when the speaker speaks with an accent unlike mine. (Yes, we all have accents. Ask anybody who didn’t grow up in your block!) When the speaker’s first language is something other than English, I rarely have trouble understanding the words. While listening to a speaker who speaks English other than American English, I may have to listen a little closer but it too usually is not a problem (except for someone from Georgia who still isn’t sure the North won). But a writer who writes in English other than American English…well, I’m sorry, but I’m just not enough of a world traveler to be comfortable reading “colour” and not want to correct it to “color.” I’m getting better. It only took 60 some years of reading but I am getting used to the alternate spellings and the odd idioms, but, but … but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to “maths.” It makes more sense than the American “math,” given that it’s a shortened form of “mathematics,” but it just sounds too weird. There. I said it.

I walked into my daughter’s house a day last week and everything, everything was out of the kitchen cabinets and on the counters. (You remember her, the human the dog let join him on vacation in last week’s post.) “Moving?” I hesitatingly asked. “Oh good. I’m doing it right,” was her reply. Apparently, it’s a new (to me) cleaning strategy. When you want to do a serious declutter, make like you’re moving to a smaller home. If you wouldn’t take it to your new downsized abode, don’t put it back in the cabinet. I kind of like that. It seems much better than what some people refer to the Shinto method of decluttering. Hold something and if doesn’t bring joy to your life you don’t need it in your life. I have no proof of it, but looking at the sequence of events, I’m pretty sure that’s how I became an ex-husband.

A morning news article one day last week brought home the closeness of winter in a big way, which is most impressive considering it is not yet autumn. Folks at Pikes Peak woke up to six inches of snow. Here at the base of the mountains on the other side of the country we’ve been having cool nights and days alternating between deluge like rain and desert like heat. A wonderful combination to make weeds along the sides of the road flourish and flower.  They make a very pretty contrast the orange barrels that typically line the highways as an homage to the states that actually maintain their roads.

Yesterday was Constitution Day in the U.S.A.. If you missed it, don’t worry. Almost everyone did, including the local governments who order the fireworks displays for every other holiday or event you can imagine. Let’s travel through time. On July 4, 1776, the colonies’ representatives to the Continental Congress (the Second Continental Congress to be specific) signed off on the Declaration of Independence. [Yay, fireworks!] So we had a country, sort of, but no framework for the government to uh govern it. On November 15, 1777, that same Congress approved the Articles of Confederation that went into effect on March 1, 1781 when all the states ratified it. [Yay, but hold the fireworks.] The Articles established a framework, but it was more a frame of balsa instead of steel. In other words, it wasn’t terribly strong. From the government’s point of view. It treated the 13 states as 13 states, 13 independent states (as in little individual countries) bound together by the “Perpetual Union.” (Yep, that’s what it was called.) Then in May of 1787, a new batch of representatives from those sort of independent states saw the Articles needed a bit of an overhaul, and maybe they were a little rash not letting the central government do too much. So they convened the Constitutional Convention. Instead of fixing, they rewrote, and on September 17, 1787, the states’ representatives signed off on the new Constitution of the United States. [Yay! But wait, still no fireworks.] Finally on June 21, 1788, the required number of states needed to ratify the Constitution had done so and now we had a government to go along with the country. [Yay, but the fireworks people got tired of waiting (like we need another summer holiday anyway).] And so, in 2004 (yes, 2004!) Congress approved September 17 to be Constitution Day (technically Constitution and Citizenship Day) because why not. [Yay, still no fireworks but we’ll have them for Black Friday instead.]

Also for those residing in the U.S.A., today (September 18 to be clear in case you’re not reading this today), is National Cheeseburger Day! “Cheeseburger, cheeseburger, cheeseburger.” (Bonus points if you can identify from whence that line comes.)  Discounts throughout this great land of ours can be had from penny burgers to full price but we have a new flavor. Check here for what is certainly an incomplete list of participating burger bistros.

And I bring this up only because it is so stupid it begs to be included.

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At least it wasn’t a handgun.

I certainly hope my brain is empty now. It would be nice if my sinuses followed suit, but you know, seasons change and all that.


How about changing your mind set whenever you stop and question, “What if..” You know the What-Ifs. The questions that start with “what if” and end with tragedy. We say we have the right answer to any What-If that comes your way. Check out our latest Uplift! for how we do it!


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